Austin punks Tear Dungeon announce new album with "I'm Not Dead Yet"

Austin, TX gimp mask-wearing, blood-spraying punks TEAR DUNGEON are excited to announce their new album, Squirm, available October 2, 2026 via TODO Records. The first preview, “I’m Not Dead Yet,” arrives today with a parasitic riff and a brash mentality towards mortality. The official music video was filmed at the band’s infamous show at the now-defunct DIY venue, The Ghost Cat Lounge, in which the audience and band demolished the venue. Riding sheets of drywall, ripping everything down to the studs, and unleashing utter chaos, TEAR DUNGEON’s destructive catharsis brings the crowd alive.

About the new song, vocalist Andrew Cashen explains, “This was one of the last songs we added to the album. I thought that we should write a one-chord song. ‘What is the simplest shit we can possibly write?’ was the assignment. It ended up being a two-chord song. About the lyrics, I am honestly surprised that I am still alive, fucking crazy.”

LISTEN TO “I’M NOT DEAD YET”

WATCH “I’M NOT DEAD YET”

PRE-ORDER SQUIRM

Squirm marks the follow-up to 2022's Carl, and finds TEAR DUNGEON turning their sludge-soaked riffs and glass-gargling vocals toward some of their most direct targets yet: police brutality, empty piety, and the rot underneath modern American life. Tracks like "Shame" and "God Is Winning" take aim at hypocrisy and collapse in equal measure, barreling forward without ever letting up. The album was tracked by Stuart Sikes, mixed by John Michael Landon at Estuary Recording, and mastered by Greg Obis at Chicago Mastering Service. Squirm is a full-band effort, matching the record's scorched-earth intensity to the same relentless pace that has defined the band's onstage reputation.

WATCH TEAR DUNGEON LIVE AT KUTX

In a city known for live music, TEAR DUNGEON stands apart by threatening to tear it all down. The band has shared the stage with Amyl and the Sniffers, Snooper, High on Fire, Osees, Snooper, Negative Approach, amongst many others. Earlier this summer, they made their mark at Sled Island in Calgary, Alberta. More shows will be announced soon. To stay up to date, follow the band on Instagram at @teardungeon.

ABOUT TEAR DUNGEON:

This wild, gimp-mask-clad noise‐punk outfit specializes in blown‐out riffs, doomy distortion, and sonic chaos that rattles your fillings. Their sound lands somewhere between Rollins-era Black Flag and a power tool having an existential crisis, and their show feels like a basement exorcism with better lighting. Get ready for some true Texan hospitality.

Born in the scorched concrete veins of Austin, Texas, TEAR DUNGEON didn’t so much form as erupt. What started as a loose collision of noise-obsessed misfits quickly hardened into something far more volatile—a band less interested in playing shows than in staging full-scale emotional and physical detonations.

Blending sludge-soaked riffs, feedback-drenched chaos, and vocals that sound like they’ve been dragged through broken glass, TEAR DUNGEON’s music is only half the experience. Their live performances are infamous across the Texas underground: for being a pure sensory overload, including theatrical bloodshed and unpredictable destruction. Vocalist Andrew Cashen is likely to climb the highest object in the venue. The twin guitar attack of Johnny Dowey and Will Grover is simply blazing. The rhythm section of Chris Prorock (drums) and Jason Reece (bass) propels everything at a breakneck pace. Hold on tight.

It’s not uncommon for a set to escalate into trash cans hurled across the room, furniture reduced to splinters, or entire sections of a venue left looking like the aftermath of a controlled demolition.

But beneath the violence lies something deliberate. TEAR DUNGEON’s shows are less about shock for its own sake and more about catharsis—an unfiltered release of frustration, grief, and raw human noise. The band treats every stage like a pressure valve, pushing both themselves and their audience to the brink.

Unsurprisingly, their reputation walks a fine line between legend and liability. Venues hesitate, fans travel miles, and every performance carries the unspoken question: how far will it go this time?