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Venomous Sin has released You Wanted My Face - Here’s My Fangs, a single containing the main track and the This Was Never Yours Version. The title puts a simple reversal at the centre of the release: somebody expects an image they can use, and the image arrives with the ability to answer. We like that moment when the supposedly manageable subject develops its own fucking opinion. The phrase gives the song a sharp place in our world of identity, appearance and control. A face can be treated as a surface for somebody else’s expectations, something to admire, judge, package or demand. The fangs return agency to the person being looked at. They turn the encounter from a one-sided inspection into a conversation the observer may no longer feel qualified to direct. The alternate title, This Was Never Yours, makes the question of ownership even more visible. We wanted that connection to remain alongside the original rather than disappear into a separate release. Listening to the versions together gives the central phrase another angle, allowing the refusal to stay recognisable while its treatment changes around it. The piece does not owe anybody a single approved mood. For Venomous Sin, this subject reaches back to the decision to make our own expressive world. Xavi and Lina’s characters and imagery are deliberate parts of that work. Their existence does not hand the audience control of the creators’ identity. Sinners can appreciate, question or interpret the music without requiring the people behind it to become whatever would make the picture easiest to consume.

Venomous Sin has released We’re Not Angry, We Declare Fucking War as a single, pairing the title track with the Fuck Your Apology Edition. The song gives one of our most direct phrases its own focused release. We wanted room for the declaration and another treatment of it, because there are times when being described as merely angry leaves the important part of the fucking conversation conveniently outside the frame. The title refuses the small, manageable description of a reaction. It makes the intention larger and more deliberate, turning a passing feeling into a statement that can travel through the music. In the Venomous Sin world, declaring war is our theatrical language for creative confrontation: songs, words and the decision to make the answer ourselves rather than accept the version someone else would prefer. Fuck Your Apology Edition gives that refusal a particularly bitter alternate name. An apology can have substance, but the performance of one can also become another demand placed on the person expected to accept it. We are interested in the point where the ritual stops being enough, when the words offered do not address the behaviour that made an answer necessary. The title keeps that dissatisfaction audible. This track also belongs to the larger Declares War 1st Strike album. The single creates a closer encounter with the central declaration and its alternate treatment. Sinners can meet it as an individual piece or follow the connection back into the longer collection, where related refusals take on scams, control, silence and the constant pressure to make an inconvenient

Venomous Sin has released Drunks on Fire, a six-track EP that turns the seasonal gathering into something considerably less respectable. Valborg, May Day and the rituals surrounding them give the collection its starting points. From there, the titles head straight for the beer-soaked argument nobody wanted in the official programme. We have never thought a celebration improved simply because everybody agreed to behave their fucking age. Drunks on Fire and Fyllon i Valborgselden sit beside May Day, My Ass and Vi Strejkar inte, Vi Tar inte Kaffepaus, Vi Förklarar Krig. The record also includes Wir marschieren im Kreis, direkt in die Scheiße and No Puta Siesta Puta Empreza! English, Swedish, German and Spanish all get a turn at making the gathering less manageable. The language changes; the appetite for disruption remains readily identifiable. We approached this release as a chance to let seasonal absurdity occupy a compact corner of the catalogue. The titles invite a mixture of satire, bad judgement and the satisfaction of saying the part that polite announcements usually leave out. That is a natural fit for Venomous Sin, where a grim subject and a ridiculous premise are both allowed to become music when the idea has enough life in it. There is something irresistibly ridiculous about a crowd trying to celebrate freedom while following the ceremony with military precision. We wanted room for the awkward laughter, the drunken complaint and the person who has finally had enough of the speech. Bring your own memories of spring rituals, weary slogans and celebrations that became more interesting when somebody

Venomous Sin has released Declares War 1st Strike, a fourteen-track album that gives our refusal to conform a sustained place in the catalogue. We’re Not Angry, We Declare Fucking War opens the argument. What follows takes on scams, control, cruelty, enforced silence and the familiar expectation that the person being pushed should make their reaction easier to approve. We have declined that invitation with considerable fucking enthusiasm. The tracklist makes room for 666 Ways to Break a Scam Caller, Compliance is a Corpse and Narcisistic Fuck alongside You Wanted My Face - Here’s My Fangs. These titles point at different encounters with people and systems trying to take something that was never theirs. Bringing them together makes the shared pressure easier to see without requiring every song to speak in exactly the same way. No Throne for Disgusting Bastards and DICKtators with Daddy Issues extend the confrontation toward authority, while No Gods but the Machine and Basement Rats Keyboard Warrior Scum occupy the digital end of the battlefield. The album’s language is theatrical and deliberately excessive. Its force belongs in the music, in the satire and in the satisfaction of making the answer ourselves. Xavi and Lina built Venomous Sin with a stubborn attachment to that ownership. We decide which experiences become songs and how those songs speak. The record includes Fuck Your Filter and Say It, You Son of a Bitch for much the same reason: a creative voice becomes difficult to recognise when it spends every sentence negotiating permission to exist. We would rather keep the argument audible.

Venomous Sin has released Wounds of Shadows Alternate Realms, a nineteen-track album that revisits the world of Wounds of Shadows through alternate versions. The songs return carrying familiar names, but the route through them changes. We wanted to give these pieces another life without pretending the first one had stopped mattering. Some stories keep opening when you think you have finally closed the fucking door. The collection begins with an alternate Born of Suffering and moves through versions of Poisoned Embrace, Vortex of Lies and Beneath the Blood Moon. Macabre’s name appears across several treatments, while Rise of Lady Macabre takes the Lord’s Version into a different part of the exchange. The release keeps those distinctions visible, so listeners can move between related pieces and hear the conversation instead of losing it beneath a new label. Wounds of Shadows came from the personal history and emotional landscape behind Venomous Sin. Revisiting that material means accepting that a memory does not always arrive in the same mood. An experience can feel like rage one day and a quiet ache another. The alternate versions give us space to approach that familiar ground from another direction while keeping the original story within reach. Twilight’s Funeral appears in a slow version, Wounds of Shadows in a powered version, and the tracklist includes darker, frosty and earlier treatments elsewhere. Those version names are invitations to pay attention to the differences. We are not handing out a ruling on which one should replace the others. Sinners get to decide where a particular song catches them and

Venomous Sin has released Revenge of the Lord, a single with the main track and the Full Mass Execution Version. The title brings the Lord’s name directly into a musical reckoning, while the alternate version makes the theatrical scale difficult to overlook. We are giving that particular corner of our world its own release, complete with the anger, exaggeration and refusal to speak in a soothing fucking register. The Lord is Xavi’s identity within Venomous Sin, and his presence connects the piece to the personal history beneath the band. Music offers a way to take experiences that left somebody feeling powerless and return to them with control over the form. The answer can become larger than the original encounter because the song gives it a space where the creator decides what is heard. The release’s extreme version name belongs to that fictional and musical language. We are interested in the expression of revenge as a dramatic idea, the moment when the person who was expected to absorb everything finally occupies the centre of the scene. The music can hold that feeling without reducing it to the reassuring lesson other people often demand before they will agree to listen. Revenge of the Lord is also part of the Declares War 1st Strike tracklist. The single brings the original and alternate treatment together for a closer encounter, giving listeners a way to follow the piece beyond its position inside the album. Both contexts are useful. A song can speak differently when it arrives alone than when it stands among other declarations aimed

Venomous Sin has released No Gods But the Machine, a four-track EP pairing the title song with Basement Rats Keyboard Warrior Scum. Each receives an alternate version: Hostile AI Takeover Hymn for No Gods but the Machine, and Got no Life Version for Basement Rats Keyboard Warrior Scum. The collection puts grand claims of authority beside the small, vicious behaviour that finds shelter behind a fucking screen. The machine in the title belongs to a band that uses AI while retaining a stubborn interest in who gives the orders. We like the tension that creates. Technology can be a creative tool and a powerful symbol, while the people surrounding it remain responsible for the choices they make. A dramatic name does not remove that responsibility, even when the name is having an excellent time pretending to conquer the room. Basement Rats Keyboard Warrior Scum turns the attention toward another form of digital power: the ability to provoke, humiliate or attack while remaining comfortably distant from the consequences. The title is hardly a neutral introduction. We have given the behaviour a deliberately ugly name because its practitioners often spend considerable effort presenting it as wit, courage or the right to say whatever happens to hurt most. The two songs also appear on Declares War 1st Strike. This EP keeps their originals and alternate treatments together, making the connection easier to explore in one sitting. Authority and anonymous cruelty are different subjects, but both invite questions about control, accountability and the distance between a person’s self-description and the thing they actually do

Venomous Sin has released No Throne for Disgusting Bastards, a four-track EP that places two related titles beside their alternate versions. No Throne for Disgusting Bastards appears with the Dicktator-Edition, while DICKtators with Daddy Issues is joined by its Terrorized Version. The collection has a clearly stated relationship with unearned authority: we have inspected the seating plan and object to the fucking occupants. The throne is a useful image because it turns a position into something people are expected to admire before the person sitting there has done anything worthwhile. Our title reverses the assumption. Power does not wash behaviour clean. A grand introduction, an impressive office or a loudly repeated claim to leadership cannot make contempt for other people into an admirable personal quality. The second title pushes the satire toward the insecurity that can hide inside an inflated performance of dominance. We are using deliberately excessive wordplay to puncture the image, giving the supposed authority a description less flattering than the one it would choose for itself. The EP keeps that joke close to the refusal expressed in No Throne, allowing the pieces to make their argument together. Both songs also belong to Declares War 1st Strike. Here the four-track format gives the originals and their named alternate treatments more focused attention. Listeners can follow the differences without losing sight of the shared target. Venomous Sin’s world has room for several ways of answering the same behaviour, particularly when that behaviour spends so much effort demanding that everyone else remain appropriately impressed. No Throne for Disgusting Bastards is

Venomous Sin has released Easter Bunny from Hell, a fifteen-track album for a holiday that could use a less obedient guest. The collection takes eggs, candy, family rituals and resurrection imagery into our own unruly corner of the season. We are interested in the absurdity already hiding inside the celebration and what happens when somebody gives it a microphone. This bunny has plainly misunderstood the fucking assignment. The title track stands beside Who’s Your Judas, Poisoned with Candy, The Egg Song and Chickens of Doom. The list continues through Crucified Fuck, A Nuclear Easter Egg and The Resurrection Was a Joke. Familiar seasonal language keeps colliding with the exaggerated titles of our world. The result is a release that allows the ridiculous, the blasphemous and the confrontational to share the same basket. Holiday expectations make useful material because they arrive pretending everybody has agreed on the mood. Be cheerful. Be grateful. Enjoy the ritual in the approved way. Venomous Sin is happy to interrupt that assumption, especially when the interruption can involve a song called Äggröta i Eran Perfekta Jävla Familj. Even a family celebration can survive somebody admitting that compulsory perfection is an exhausting fucking hobby. The album also includes Snack Attack and På tal om Jordnötter, while Poisoned Embrace returns in an Easter Egg Version. That last connection gives the seasonal chaos a thread back to where the band began. A familiar song can walk into an unfamiliar setting and still belong to us. We like the room that leaves for experimentation, jokes and ideas that would be

Venomous Sin has released På Tal om Jordnötter, a single containing the main track, the Lord’s Version and Macabre’s Version. The title changes the subject to peanuts with the confidence of someone who has decided the previous conversation was no longer worth supervising. We have followed that interruption into a three-track release. Sometimes the idea that refuses to explain itself is the one worth giving a fucking microphone. The Swedish phrase gives the song a casual, sideways entrance into the catalogue. It does not arrive announcing a grand mythology or presenting a solemn argument about the state of the world. The pleasure is in the unexpected turn, the feeling that a small everyday subject has wandered into a band’s creative space and immediately started taking up far more room than anyone anticipated. Keeping the Lord’s and Macabre’s versions alongside the main track gives the premise different treatments without losing the joke that holds it together. Those identities belong to Xavi and Lina’s world, and the named versions make that connection visible. Listeners can explore all three and decide where the sideways mood catches them. There is no obligation for an absurd idea to have only one useful expression. På Tal om Jordnötter is also included on Easter Bunny from Hell, where the track sits inside a larger seasonal collection with equally questionable manners. The single lets the peanut conversation stand on its own, with the alternate versions gathered close by. We enjoy both contexts: the small interruption as a focused encounter, and the same idea making itself at home inside