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🎤 From the Depths of Reflection to the Pinnacle of Fame: Scrim's Celestial Autobiography "via crucis" Unveiled ✨

Added on April 21, 2025 inEntertainment News Cards

Hey folks, have you ever stopped to wonder if the stars have something to do with our most profound musical journeys? Like, really, could Saturn’s latest retrograde have nudged Scrim, from the electrifying $uicideboy$, into crafting via crucis – a project that sheds bravado for bare, introspective soul-searching? Now that’s a twist no one saw coming, especially during this cosmic game of celestial chess!

Here I am, your friendly neighborhood SEO wizard turned astrologically-obsessed music blogger, diving into Scrim’s latest venture that’s practically a serenade to those inner selves we’d rather not admit exist. This project isn’t just music; it’s like Scrim’s own celestial diary entry, set against the backdrop of horror movie visuals gilded with the essence of sacred art. And with the Moon entering Cancer, well, let’s just say the tides are turned inward, not outward.

“Via crucis,” which translates to “The Way of the Cross,” isn’t about knee-side reverence but a rather reflective pilgrimage through what I’d call ‘Scrim’s Serengeti of sadness.’ His usual aggressive beats? Gone. Replaced by the kind of brooding background that insists you grapple with your own mental menagerie. This isn’t music to party to– or is it a party of the introspection persuasion?

So, as we peer into the ‘Official Tracklist,’ let’s ponder: Does Scrim’s celestial walk sync up with our own astro journeys, or are we all just moonstruck muddling through life’s soundtrack? Here’s to finding beauty in brokenness and perhaps, like Scrim, making art out of our darkest hours. Grab your headphones, sit back, and get ready to traverse the internal galaxy with one part of $uicideboy$ who’s taking the solo route to redemption.

Scrim, one half of buzzing duo $uicideboy$, steps into vulnerable territory with via crucis, a solo project steeped in emotional depth and spiritual tension. The title—Latin for “Way of the Cross”—draws from Christian tradition, evoking a journey through guilt, suffering, and eventual redemption. For Scrim, it’s not about religion, but reflection. He replaces spectacle with solitude, trading bravado for inner reckoning.

Musically, Via Crucis veers from $uicideboy$’s aggressive sound. It leans into minimal, brooding production—melancholy piano, ghostly synths, and stripped percussion. The mood is sparse yet weighty, mirroring Scrim’s descent into his own psyche. The album’s tone is muted but intense, inviting listeners to sit with discomfort instead of escaping it.

Lyrically, Scrim uses the project as both confession and exorcism. On “Jesus Wept,” he references the Bible’s shortest verse, channeling its grief to explore trauma, addiction, and healing. His verses feel like diary entries—raw, honest, and unresolved. He raps less for acclaim than for survival, offering his pain without filter.

The album extends beyond the music. Scrim crafted the visuals himself, drawing from horror films, sacred art, and surrealism. These images aren’t decoration—they expand the album’s themes, revealing beauty in brokenness.

The album’s strength lies in its sincerity. Scrim doesn’t dramatize his struggle; he processes it. via crucis reads like a spiritual memoir, quiet yet powerful, offering gathering with anyone following darkness. It’s not built for the charts—it’s built for truth.

via crucis – Scrim

Official Tracklist

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