Edge of Eternities Reflections
Aug 27, 2025
So. Pendulum just dropped a new album, and I have thoughts.
It’s been fifteen years since Pendulum last dropped a full-length album, and I’ve had their music on constant rotation since—always wondering if they’d ever return with something new. When Inertia finally landed, I couldn’t press play fast enough. For me, Pendulum has always been more than just drum & bass; it’s been the sound of momentum, of pressure, of those Illinois nights blasting In Silico from my mom’s Mercury station wagon. Their music has always challenged me to think beyond the tangible. Drumbeats that feel too artificial to be real despite having seen their drummer play LIVE. Chaotic synth tones that weave between chest-collapsing bass–Pendulum and The Prodigy have always had this effect on me though.
Yet, at the same time, I’ve been living inside Edge of Eternities since April. Writing about the set, unpacking its story, and following its characters has been one of the most passionate stretches of my time with Magic: The Gathering. Exploring this set through the lens of Clipping.’s Splendor and Misery, writing about Seth Dickinson’s incredible past and my excitement toward his look at MtG, and even venturing back to 1994 when we had 60,000 real jellyfish in space thanks to NASA. This set’s mix of raw survival, cosmic wonder, and deeply human choices in EoE hasn’t let me go. It’s been the kind of story that lingers in the back of my mind, waiting to be connected to other things I love, and even though we have the ATLA set coming up (get wrecked Spiderman) I still have so many feelings and thoughts on EoE.
So when I sat with Inertia, it didn’t feel like just a new Pendulum record. My attraction to Edge of Eternities has forced me to see things through that lens often over the past few months and this record is no different. It feels Edge-coded. Every track carried echoes of Tannuk’s precision, Sami’s compassion, Alpharael’s terrifying beauty, and the crew’s endless voyage. It was as if Pendulum had scored Edge of Eternities without ever knowing it—and I couldn’t help but map each song onto the story I’ve been so caught up in. So, buckle up, strap in, and Hold Your Colour, as I dive into Pendulum’s latest album Inertia as though it were the OST to Magic: The Gathering’s Edge of Eternities.
Driver- Tannuk and Sami’s Flight
The breakneck pacing of “Driver” instantly throws me into Tannuk’s hands as co-pilot. The staccato beat mirrors his speech patterns—clipped, cautious, repeating himself so Sami always knows what’s happening. But then it builds, it opens. Around the two-minute mark we’re breaking the atmosphere, descending to planetside. And when “we go back” cuts through the track, it feels like Rob Swire wrote it as the Seriema’s anthem for arrival at Sigma’s Reach.
Come Alive- The Empty Colony
Sigma’s Reach: a deserted mining colony, all metal and silence. Which is why the industrial churn at the start of “Come Alive” feels perfect—like machinery still running without purpose. “Slave to a vision,” the first lyric, could be Sami and Tannuk’s argument about their readings. They were told the planet was abandoned, but the evidence says otherwise. Do they trust the official story or what’s right in front of them? But then the chorus hits: “’Cause I come alive when you’re alone… Restless tides of your shadow… This time you’ll know I’m here.” That’s the Endstone to me, whispering directly to Sami, pulling him closer.
Save The Cat- Sami’s Fury
This one hardly needs analysis. “Save The Cat” is Sami’s rawest edge, his flashes of anger and fear laid bare in the hunt for Mirri. That desperation, that love—it’s right there in the track. Period.
Archangel- Alpharael’s Fall
Alpharael’s name already rings of divinity, but when “Archangel” came on, it was more than the obvious connection. The lyrics—“Streetlights cut the sirens, I can feel the silence… Slipping slowly into something deep within you, you’re not alone”—capture his descent. Not sirens and streetlights, but stars and nebulae swallowing him whole. This is Alpharael’s beauty and terror, entwined.
Nothing For Free- Pinnacle’s Grip
When this song dropped back in 2020, I heard it as a pandemic-era critique of government failure. But on Inertia, its place is different. Now, it sounds like Pinnacle’s stranglehold over Sothera and the system around it—capitalism as choke chain. The title says it all: survival in this world, moxite, this economy, is never free.
Cannibal- Monoists and the Palatinate
At its heart, this track is a love song between enemies. Wargasm’s feature drips with venom and chemistry, the kind of primal tension that only works when two people hate each other enough to ignite. That’s Monoists and the Summists at the Edge—opposites, locked in orbit, pulled together by the violence of their own contradictions.
Constellations- The Endstone’s Whisper
Forty-four seconds, barely a song, and yet “Constellations” feels like the Endstone itself. “Like something’s missing, like something’s missing.” A reminder to the Seriema crew that reality itself is mutable clay, being reshaped beneath their feet. Short, swelling, a prelude.
Halo- Rivals in Tension
Constellations prepares us for this fight, and then “Halo” drops us into it. The grinding back-and-forth of Rob Swire and Matthew Tuck feels like Haliya and Alpharael in open conflict—Summist against Monoist. The chorus, “It’s a halo of thorns across your head… My friend, the world is pushin’ back”, turns their ideological clash into raw sound.
Louder Than Words- Echoes of Rewritten Worlds
“Don’t whisper, don’t make a sound. No movement from miles around.” This is the uncanny quiet of EoE—those moments where the Endstone rewrites reality but leaves behind ghostly silhouettes of what was. The song’s title itself—louder than words—reminds me of those fleeting acts of care and love between the crew, unspoken but undeniable. The calm before the storm.
Napalm- Syr Vondam’s Atrocity
And then the storm hits. “Napalm” is rage weaponized, pure Summist fire. It’s Syr Vondam ordering a Kavu city obliterated just to hurt Alpharael and the crew. Joey Valence & Brae bring that old-school, Rage Against the Machine energy—chugging synths, machine-gun delivery, the sound of a payload arming. This is genocide scored as a banger.
The Endless Gaze- Tannuk’s Grief
Episode 8 leaves me with four words: “Tannuk roars in grief.” That weight sits inside “The Endless Gaze,” more spoken word than song. It’s about pain being fleeting, about choosing not to let it calcify into bitterness or rage. That’s Tannuk’s battle—exiled, bloodied, grieving, and yet trying to hold onto himself. I hear him in the closing lines:
“Don’t let it take root.
Don’t let it become bitterness.
Don’t let it become anger.”
Guiding Lights- Tezzeret’s Awakening
If Tezzeret has an overture, it’s “Guiding Lights.” Sleek, polished, almost commercial—and fittingly, AWOLNATION is along for the ride. The lyrics sting with loss and self-destruction: “How does it feel to wake up and wonder why everyone left you? To know that you fucked yourself.” That’s Tezzeret’s life before the Edge. Then, around 3:30, the fire hits: “Now you’re down with nowhere left to go, ten years go straight into the fire.” His Edge-born rebirth.
Colourfast- The Wizard Revealed
This one is pure Pendulum—horns and bass marching toward revelation. It feels like the moment when Sami sees Alpharael for what he is and mutters, “I told you. He’s a wizard.” That line, that clarity, wrapped in swelling sound.
Silent Spinner- Tezzeret’s Mask
If Tezzeret gets one true anthem, it’s “Silent Spinner.” The Latin horns at the start feel like his arrival, heralding the Metalman. The first-person lyrics—“Hope you’re sitting down”—hit like Tezzeret stepping through the Seriema’s airlock, hiding his true self behind layers of calculation. And lines like “As far as I could see, machines and apathy, chasing the dragon, it’s never enough” seal it. This track is Tezzeret, in hiding and in hunger.
Mercy Killing- The Guideline Station
By “Mercy Killing,” we’re spiraling toward Infinite Guideline Station. The lyrics— “Time is running out, turn this ship around”—echo the panic in the cockpit: Monoist prayers, the Endstone’s danger, the desperate gamble to get the crew to safety. And tucked in the track is Haliya’s own confession to Alpharael: that she doesn’t truly believe in the Sum. When Syr Vondam reappears, those words reverberate: “They say the sun’s inside you, underneath the pain you’ve given…” The faith crumbles, the storm grows, and sanctuary is only temporary.
Cartagena- The Epilogue
For Cartagena I debated writing out my thoughts, my analysis of the song and lyrics, but if I’m honest you can simply read the lyrics. This song acts as the stupidly perfect capstone to not only the album, but to the EoE story as a whole.
We would go from the emerald verge to the waterfront
Drifting souls, chase these shadows together
[Pre-Chorus]
Now I’m falling, undone again
And my world becomes alien
[Chorus]
Oh my god
I feel like the sun is dying
The light is gone, we’re moving on
Don’t stop ’til you beard the lion
Oh my god
I feel numb and that’s how I like it
Against the wall for the curtain call
Bleed out if you can’t deny it
Immersed in Inertia
And that’s where I land with Inertia. Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’ve been so wrapped up in Edge of Eternities since April that I can’t help but filter everything through it, but this album didn’t feel like a return to form for Pendulum. Instead, it felt like a soundtrack to the story I’ve been LIVING in. Every drop, every pulse, every jagged synth line seemed to echo the impossible choices Seth Dickinson laid out for these characters.
Pendulum has always been about momentum for me. About the things that push us forward even when we want to stop. Inertia carries that same weight, the same pressure, and pairing it with Edge of Eternities gave me this strange, beautiful double vision where one art form illuminated the other. Maybe that’s the point: music, story, game—they collide, they resonate, and sometimes they trick us into seeing the worlds we love a little differently.
The Ravnican Reading Nook 
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