In the churning underbelly of Los Angeles’ DIY scene, Agriculture—Dan Meyer (guitar/vocals), Leah B. Levinson (bass/vocals), Richard Chowenhill (guitar), and Kern Haug (drums)—deliver their sophomore salvo, The Spiritual Sound, on October 3, 2025, via The Flenser.
This isn’t black metal’s usual frostbitten nihilism; it’s a fervent, queer-inflected blackgaze ritual that fuses dissonant riffs, shoegaze haze, and post-hardcore propulsion into a demand for presence. Drawing from Zen Buddhism, queer/AIDS literature, and the raw poetry of daily survival—gas station epiphanies, tour-van confessions—the album arcs from Side A’s sky-rending catharsis to Side B’s devotional simmer, a unified grammar of spirit in the profane.
Opener “My Garden” erupts like a fever dream, Meyer‘s searing screams clashing with Levinson’s urgent basslines over swirling, atmospheric guitars—a textural hybrid that hooks you in communal rebellion. “Flea” scurries with frenetic noise, its lyrics (“Try to move what’s left of me”) evoking emotional horror amid blast-beat frenzy and shoegaze walls of sound. “Micah (5:15am)” timestamps dawn’s quiet violence, blending technical depth with introspective cleans that evolve into Meyer and Levinson‘s intertwined vocals, a call-and-response of human fragility.
The heart pounds in “The Weight,” a mid-album maelstrom of dissonant black metal fury, where riffs crack like thunder over Haug‘s relentless percussion—pure intensity, inviting you to absorb, not scroll past. “Serenity” flips the script, a slow-burn haze of reverb-drenched melody that honors collective struggle without mythmaking, Levinson‘s voice a beacon in the fog. Title track “The Spiritual Sound” embodies the ethos: not abstract salvation, but the profane sacred—inside jokes screamed over imperfect gear.
Side B deepens the devotion. “Dan’s Love Song” is a tender, shoegaze-laced ballad, Meyer‘s lyrics weaving personal history into universal ache. “Bodhidharma” (the lead single) channels Zen koans through ecstatic black metal, its propulsive riffs and harmonious screams a bridge between chaos and clarity—history as heartbeat. “Hallelujah” swells into post-rock grandeur, a queer hymn of endurance, while closer “The Reply” fades on lingering dissonance, echoing unresolved spirit.
What elevates The Spiritual Sound is its refusal of numbness: production by the band and Chowenhill captures analog grit and digital swirl in crystalline clarity, demanding full immersion. Agriculture doesn’t peddle vibes; they forge connection—from mildew-scented venues to algorithmic voids. In blackgaze’s crowded crypt, this is a revelation: heavy not in decibels, but in soul-stirring directness. A triumph that lingers like incense smoke.
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