At the Temple of Apocalyptica.

Post-apocalyptic chanters. Dark “monks” shrouded in the dusty echoes of a forgotten past.

The Disorder of Brouhaha deliver pilgrims from the absurdity of survival on waves of sound — with very little movement and an unsettling stillness. Salvaged objects become instruments. Discordant vibrations shape something resembling the future.

Expect ritual. Expect noise. Expect confusion.

Bringing peace… and disharmony.