A&R Factory conducts exclusive interviews with independent bands, musicians, and artists from around the world. We converse with musicians about their upcoming releases, planned tour dates, and other topics that make them unique and stand out from the crowd!
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The Unbranded was never meant to fit neatly into a single category. What began as Kyle Pivarnik’s basement project has grown into a force that pushes against the expectations of genre and convention. Now a full band with bassist Michael Rose and drummer Daniel Brawley, The Unbranded channels the punch of ’90s punk, the weight of alt-rock, and the introspection of post-hardcore into something raw and uncompromising. In this interview, we discuss the band’s refusal to chase perfection, the impact of religious trauma and sobriety on their songwriting, and why making music at 40 is more relevant than ever. If you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite belong, The Unbranded has something to say—and it’s worth listening to.
The Unbranded started as a solo project in my basement in Colorado. At the time, I struggled to find musicians who shared my musical taste. The local scene leaned either toward folky, hippie music or extreme metal—there wasn’t much in between. So, I started writing and recording music on my own.
Even now, I feel like The Unbranded still lives in that in-between space. We’re often told we’re either too heavy or not heavy enough. That challenge became part of our identity—the band exists to explore those margins and push beyond the confines of any single genre.
When I moved to Oregon, The Unbranded evolved into a full band. We’ve been through a few lineup changes over the years, but we’ve finally landed on the right chemistry. Learning to share something that started as such a personal project was a challenge at first, but I wouldn’t go back to doing it alone. There’s a creative energy that happens when you collaborate—William S. Burroughs called it the “third mind”—where the ideas that emerge are ones none of us could come up with alone. That’s what makes The Unbranded what it is today.
The name The Unbranded was a direct response to not knowing how to categorize our music. I was writing songs that pulled from punk, alt-rock, grunge, and even elements of prog and metal. Rather than force a label on it, I just decided, this is unbranded rock. That and I have no tattoos, and I work in marketing!
We all come from different musical backgrounds, but for me, ’90s punk and alternative were foundational. Hearing Kerplunk by Green Day in 1992 was a defining moment—it cracked something open. Growing up outside of Cleveland, I didn’t realize until much later how much the Bay Area punk scene shaped me. Bands like Operation Ivy gave me a sense of identity, while NOFX played a huge role in shaping my political views. Sonically, Tool and Incubus had a substantial influence on my guitar tone, and that mix of grit and melody still runs through everything I play.
Michael and Daniel bring in elements of metal, post-hardcore, and even jazz. That range means we don’t limit ourselves to a single sound. Each song is inspired by something different. For example, Majesty has a bit of a Coheed and Cambria vibe, and we even reference Claudio Sanchez in the lyrics.
Rather than chase a signature sound, we embrace the freedom to evolve. The current album has a sonic identity, but I make no guarantees that the next one will sound anything like it.
A lot of modern music has had the humanity processed out of it. Auto-tune and algorithmic perfection have pushed things so far that everything sounds too clean.
For us, it’s about balance. We still record in a high-quality studio—No Angels Here was done at Jackpot! Recording Studio, where bands like Sleater-Kinney, Pearl Jam, and The Postal Service have recorded. Larry Crane, who runs the studio and publishes Tape Op magazine, has a recording philosophy that really resonates with me. You can really feel it in the space. It felt very natural playing in that room.
We wanted our album to sound raw but intentional. Some of the song structures are weird, even awkward, but that’s part of what makes them ours. We didn’t want to chase perfection to the point of losing what makes the music feel human.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel self-conscious about my age in a scene where a lot of the bands we play with are still in their early 20s. But I remember learning that Dave Wyndorf of Monster Magnet was 40 when they started blowing up, and thinking, “OK, I’ve still got time.”
I’ve come to appreciate that getting older means I have a clearer sense of what really matters. The themes in our songs reflect that. We’re not just writing about relationships or rebellion—we’re tackling bigger questions about identity, purpose, and survival in a world that doesn’t always make sense.
And at the end of the day, I remind myself that music isn’t about how old you are—it’s about connection. And I think, more than anything, we’re seeking to induce an emotional response.
Religious trauma has been a recurring theme in my writing, and it’s something all three of us have dealt with in different ways. Growing up in an environment where music was censored and controlled left a lasting impact, and playing in punk bands became an act of defiance.
Another huge influence has been my journey with sobriety. I got sober at 29 and played in a punk band in Denver while navigating the dive bar scene as a sober musician. A lot of our lyrics deal with the struggle of addiction—not just the personal battle but the broader societal impact.
We want our songs to be anthems for people going through hard times. To take those feelings of shame or struggle and turn them into something communal—something that reminds people they’re not alone.
We want to create the same experience that our favorite bands gave us. I always say I write songs for my sixth-grade self—to show him that even if the world around you feels hostile or isolating, music can be a refuge.
That’s what we want to offer our listeners: a sense of belonging, a reminder that things can get better, and an excuse to scream your lungs out at a live show.
The plan for 2025 is simple: record the next album, play as many shows as possible, and keep putting out music that feels authentic.
We’ve talked about doing a West Coast tour from Seattle to San Diego. More than anything, we want to get our music into as many ears as possible—whether that’s through streaming, live shows, or whatever comes next.
One thing’s for sure: we’re just getting started.
The Unbranded is a rock band that refuses to be confined to a single genre, blending elements of punk, alt-rock, and grunge with a raw, dynamic energy. Founded by Kyle Pivarnik (guitar and vocals), the band evolved from a solo project into a full-fledged trio with the addition of Michael Rose (bass) and Daniel Brawley (drums). Drawing from a wide range of influences—from the Bay Area punk scene to post-hardcore and metal—The Unbranded thrives in the creative space between nostalgia and innovation, delivering music that is both urgent and deeply personal.
Discover The Unbranded on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
your friend juniper builds worlds where emotions are raw, love isn’t sugar-coated, and every note carries the weight of something real. With makesmehappy leading the charge for her next album, she’s taking listeners beyond the predictable highs and lows of love songs, exploring the in-between—the messy, unfiltered parts that make relationships human. In this interview, she opens up about crafting music designed to hit like a dopamine rush, the balance between creative freedom and self-promotion, and why Nashville’s storytelling tradition has shaped her lyricism in unexpected ways. From the way she assigns colours to her songs to her belief in slow, meaningful career growth over viral fame, Juniper’s perspective is as thought-provoking as it is refreshing. Read on to step into her world of sound, sonder, and sonic connection.
I know there are many songs out there that touch on so many aspects of love, but it tends to be in these certain worlds of either gaining it or losing it. There’s this whole middle area of navigating it that’s really the juicy bit. Love, in every kind of relationship, is really challenging, and sometimes it’s pure joy, and in others, it’s really putting aside your desires or expectations for the sake of another person, and it’s all driven by the same thing: love. I wanted a song that took me through that turbulent and wonderful journey of expectations and compromise and deep connection, almost like a simulator. I figured no one is ever alone, so there had to be other music lovers out there searching for that song as well. I think I honestly got too impatient and decided to make it myself.
I desperately push for every second of my songs to inspire the listener to feel something. I’m a person with high expectations, and it for sure creeps into my music and content-making process. I had to really discover why I wanted to live this insane lifestyle and make music, and it came down to wanting to affect people in a positive way. Music and art are extremely powerful and I want someone who discovers me to have an experience from the second they go to my profile to the very end of the first song they hear and then have it just continue. I want my music and content to be like a good friend.
It takes a lot of time and effort, but it’s just so worth it. I make all of my own visual content as well as my music, and right now I’m really diving into a new aesthetic of sondering, which is the realization that you’re one of many complex lives. It can make you feel small in the existential sense but also fill you with awe and curiosity. So, welcome to my little world where we wander, ponder and most of all, sonder!
My songs often begin with lyrics or weird voice memos of me humming a melody. Song seeds honestly come to me at the most inconvenient times, like when I’m in the shower or driving or trying to fall asleep. All of a sudden, lyrics will just start flooding into my brain, often with a rhythm. I have to get them down immediately or literally just repeat them until I can. Sometimes, I feel like one of those characters in a movie who has visions and the world stops, and they seem to lose control and have to draw something or write something.
I’ll always finish the song acoustically before I record anything. It starts with the main instrument and a vocal demo and then I’ll produce the song fully and often record the final takes of the vocal last before I start mixing. The ideas come as I go with production. I often hear a rhythmic part or a melody in my head and then figure it out on whichever instrument I’m hearing and layer things in until I can’t hear any more parts. That’s when I’ll go in and really strip back and take things away until it’s only what the song really needs. Sometimes, a simple production is the most effective. You have to be willing to undo and go back and redo and all these really annoying things but refusing to compromise with your songs has to be the main goal.
My first album was really an attempt for me to just get all these songs I had in my bank out. It varies so much from song to song, and I truly love it and think all of those songs deserved to be released, but it’s not a cohesive album by any means. This second full project was more intentionally put together as an album, and there is definitely a strong cohesiveness throughout it lyrically and sonically.
Haley Heynderickx was my big inspiration for the sound of the album. I love the intimacy and saturation of her music. For the lyrical content, the moral of the story is really to sonder and realize how crazy this world is that we live in and that we only get one weird little life on it. I think as a species, we focus on all the wrong things and separate ourselves from each other in all these ways that don’t matter. Spend less time thinking about yourself and way more time thinking about the world and the strange and beautiful people in it. It’s medicine for the brain and the heart without the long list of horrible side effects while a lady twirls on a beach.
Slowly. I know it sounds like I am being cheeky but slow and steady wins the race. I want an authentic, grassroots fan base grown through actual engagement, and that just simply takes longer. I could really spend most of my time trying to go viral and rise to fame quickly, but it’s not a great long-term investment and I’m a musician, not an influencer. I’ve had friends go viral multiple times and it’s great for the views on that one video and the streams on that one song but I haven’t seen it curate a true fanbase who stays with you. I’d way rather spend my time making really good songs, putting together a great live set, making authentic content that’s easy because I actually enjoy making it and then travel the world and share my music in person with people.
I think music and visual art are soulmates. They can exist without each other and still be extremely wonderful but they’re even better together. Color is a really strange thing because it doesn’t really exist, at least without light. We really only perceive color based on the wavelength and the object it’s bouncing off of and that’s just insane and amazing. I always wanted color to be a part of my brand because it’s a universal language. Every song of mine is attached to a color that not only visually represents the song but scientifically does as well. Our brains react to different colors in different ways and I want to utilize that to enhance my songs. It’s kind of my way of adding frosting to a piece of music.
Nashville is a great place to be if you want to really grow as a lyricist and songwriter. Country music is about storytelling above anything else. It stems from the structure of classic 12-bar blues where every song essentially has the same movements but it’s the story and the way the singer tells that story over those movements that makes it unique. There’s a depth of forethought in country lyrics that I love where a line at the end will finally tie together a phrase or idea from an earlier part of the song. It’s like the whole song is connected in these really clever ways, like a novel or a movie rather than just a good hook and who really cares what we’re saying in the song you know? Being in this environment has absolutely helped me grow as a musician. It’s also really about talent in Nashville instead of clout or connections and that’s why Nashville is quality over quantity. Country music is definitely what makes up a majority of the landscape here but so many artists these days are blending genres, as they should, so it doesn’t feel so important that I am not a country singer.
Oh my gosh, I lose heart all the time! Musicians have to be so disciplined and work so hard and put so much of their own money into their careers without getting anything in return for a long time. I honestly don’t think anyone from any other field of study would accept the terms in their careers that artists are pretty much forced to accept. The music industry is broken…really broken so we have to support each other and really go back to basics. It really feels like every system is broken because nowadays pretty much everyone is working two or more full-time jobs and can’t afford basic essentials.
I’m still finding the balance and I think I always will be. I don’t think anyone ever fully gets it or finds the one true method because it’s so dependent on so many things. I had to find where the deficit was in my own process and make peace with the fact that I had to save up money to invest in marketing for my releases, tours and live shows. I’m still hoping to get a manager or a booking agent this year because it’s really overwhelming a lot of the time but I’m a big believer that nothing good comes easy and it proves to me every day how much this is my passion and my purpose because no matter how hopeless it seems, I just keep doing it.
Sonder. Think about others way more than you think about yourself. Be beautiful in the ways that really matter. Forgive people as quickly as you can and for the love of Mary fight for a life where you’re spending most of your time doing something you love. If you let it, life will break your heart. Love yourself so much that you’re willing to sacrifice to be healthier and a better person. It’s not about indulging every feeling or thought like truly allow yourself to grow and change.
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Find your preferred way to listen to your friend juniper’s latest single and connect with the artist via this link.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Atlanta’s music scene has long been a force to be reckoned with, and Plush Sanches is making sure it stays that way. Rooted in Vine City’s rich culture, he’s built a career that moves between genres, platforms, and perspectives. In this interview, Plush Sanches reflects on the lessons learned from his city, the unexpected paths his music has taken, and how he keeps his creative process sharp. With six singles on the way in 2025, including City March, now is the perfect time to get inside the mind of an artist shaping his own lane.
Growing up in Vine City, the streets are always filled with music, from someone playing a trumpet on the corner of the street to live acts in Center Stage. The environment was the same as every other city. A place full of opportunities for all.
It was very shocking and eye-opening to all of the different networks available for entertainers and musicians. A very strong way of breaking the ice for what’s next to come.
Someone who helps uplifts and nurtures the next generation. I believe that’s our city’s legacy; If not growth, then only decay. As a musician from Atlanta, I try to bring confidence, independence, and the absence of ignorance.
They’re almost like different characters in a Sims game,” the alter ego”.
During my studio sessions, it can usually go both ways. Sometimes for stock music, it may be a little more structured, but the spontaneous ones can lead to a hit or miss.
I believe it was the contemporary genre that my songs slipped into. They weren’t so restricted to one genre, so they were shared throughout.
I pull from both personal past experiences and others beyond my own experiences.
Knowing your audience is key. You must know why they like it and where. Networking is always a great way of connecting and building.
Pushing sonic boundaries is a focus, but the message is still key.
I have six different singles releasing in the year 2025. One of them is City March coming soon!
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Stream Plush Sanches’ discography on Spotify and connect with the artist on Instagram.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Kenny Schafer’s Road Racer is a glimpse into the mind of an artist who refuses to be confined by expectation. With a background in classical composition and a deep appreciation for jazz, Schafer builds his songs with the precision of a craftsman and the instinct of a storyteller. In this interview, he touches on the unexpected inspiration behind Road Racer, how his orchestral training feeds into his songwriting, and why the song’s reckless, free-spirited protagonist represents more of himself than he first realised. From layering intricate instrumental interludes to ensuring every lyric carries weight, Schafer offers a rare look into the thought process of a songwriter who isn’t afraid to let his music take unexpected turns.
At the time I wrote Road Racer, I was working on a Latin jazz album called Ocean Breeze. I had been developing a deeper appreciation of Latin music especially of Horace Silver and Chick Corea. The Latin style suits me well as a composer—non-sentimental, non-Romantic, humorous, fun, rhythmically driven, melodic. I heard in my head a 6/4 bass groove and began developing it thinking I was onto another jazz combo work. But as it developed, it soon became evident that I was writing a pop song with a female lead vocal. The title and lyrics were suggested to me by the music, which seemed to depict a fun-loving, reckless, young girl. The music of Road Racer is at once wild and unpredictable while also hip and refined much like the character. No specific life experience directly influenced this song, but today I view the road racer (who I once considered to be a foil of myself) to be a representation of my own character. It is a side of me that stays hidden in day-to-day life, but comes out frequently my music. The central traits of this character are passion, impatience with menial aspects of life, independence, and risk-taking.
Most of the songs that I write use traditional song structures: verse, chorus or ABA. But what’s different is the freedom with which they are used. My background as a classical composer means I can invent my own forms if I want to; I am not tied to a formulaic groundwork to structure a piece of music. Often in my songs you will find variation between the verses, unexpected deviations from the song form, extended intros, outros, or interludes, and sometimes new forms all together. But I only do those things if the music calls for it; I do not break the rules just to break the rules. Road Racer is on the more conventional side of my songs, but the instrumental interludes in it could only have been written by someone with some classical in their background.
First of all, this is a misguiding question because there are no rules in either genre. We attach genre titles to pieces as a convenience to prepare the listener for the sound world they are going to hear. I would call Road Racer a pop song because if I called it a classical composition, the piece would not match the idea put in the listener’s head by that genre. However, in the case of songwriting there are patterns that are so commonly used in the idiom that they can almost be considered “rules” (things like song form, tonal harmony etc.). In the classical realm though, every rule has been broken. There exists atonal classical music, music without meter, music without melody, and in one case even music without sound (John Cage 4’33). The point is people who are deeply acquainted with the area of music we typically call “classical” are open to a vast myriad of possibilities that a pop music listener may never be exposed to. To answer the question, no I do not have to intentionally think about breaking rules because the way I write is a natural consequence of the music I’ve listened to and studied.
Road Racer is all about story and to tell a good story, one must have imagery and mood. The imagery of Road Racer is one of the primary things that makes it unique. Throughout the song, the arrangement is constantly commenting and depicting elements of the text. For instance, when the road racer says “shut the door” we hear a symbol crash immediately after imitating a door slam. A perceptive listener can also hear imitations of windshield wipers, countdowns, and engines spread throughout the piece. The lyrics are absolutely a structural element in this song. One hears a completely different arrangement in the second verse than in the first verse and that is because I am adjustment the arrangement to depict the two different story segments.
I believe that technique and emotion go hand in hand and to create a truly emotional experience, a superior technique is required. The technique comes first. Not many composers are in a state of great excitement for a track when imputing the very first notes. We honestly don’t know what will happen, if it’s the next big hit, or just another failed attempt. But as the piece builds and unique identity takes shape our excitement for that identity grows and if it is a truly special work, an overwhelming state of emotion and creative energy can ensue. But to reach that stage, we must have the technique to develop that idea and bring out its inner genius. Early on technique is key, but later in the process, emotion takes over.
I feel that it does (give me an advantage). Most songwriters probably have no idea how limited the world of music they live in really is. Imagine if you could use any chord, any form, any instrument, any meter. I write down every note in my songs and have complete control over every element. The modern music landscape is not important to me because I write music to please myself not others. Because of what I’ve listened to and my own natural abilities, I am the one best prepared to write the music that I have always most wanted to hear.
It was a shift at the time but not anymore. It’s not that writing a pop song was anything new for me, but I had never written a song quite like this one. I had written songs about my own life from my own perspective. This song was about a made-up character in a made-up story and I had never written like that before. I decided I wanted to write more songs with this non-personal approach and that led to my 10 song album School Days.
What I appreciate most about Road Racer is the character. She’s a confident, sassy, naïve, unreserved, unjaded young girl who wants nothing more than to make life exciting for herself and the people around her. We musicians can be very snobbish and sometimes quite stupid in the way we judge lyrics. We all want to hear something that tells our story, the depicts the person we would like to be. There was a time when hearing a lyric such as “cause’ I’m the road racin’ kind of a girl” would have led me to thumb my nose up. I’m not such a person and therefore the song isn’t deep to me. But now I see that this is not the point of lyrics. I appreciate Road Racer because it is about someone different from me. And unlike some who have critiqued this song, I don’t think she is a shallow character. I think she has a special trait that many of us could learn something from—the confidence to do what she loves despite the rules and to be who she is despite the norms. If there are some who judge her as shallow and naïve, she certainly wouldn’t mind . . . and I don’t either.
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Stream Road Racer on Spotify now.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
With a debut album that refuses to be boxed into a single genre and a musical philosophy shaped by everything from Berklee College of Music to his time in the Army, Jason Patrick X arrives with a sound that’s both studied and instinctive. His approach to songwriting leans into emotion over formula, and his ability to intersect rock, blues, and unexpected influences keeps his music authentically unpredictable In this interview, he discusses the moment that ignited his songwriting ambitions, the lessons he’s carried from his military career into his music, and the personal mission driving his creativity. Whether you’re a fan of guitar-driven anthems or curious about the mindset of a musician crafting his own lane, this conversation is one to read.
Absolutely. I appreciate you giving me the chance to do that.
You know, there was a moment that I remember at a young age, around 13 or so, where I heard an uncle of mine playing a song he had recorded on a cassette in his car. He ran a recording studio out of his garage. And I thought to myself, “I think I could do that.” But I guess the idea had to marinate in my brain for a couple of decades before I finally tried it. There was one fateful day, when I was at my brother’s house for a birthday party. He’s a computer guy, and he was showing me this new software he just picked up called Fruity Loops. It was my first exposure to recording music on a computer. He showed me the basics of how to navigate the software and map out instrument sounds, then I completely disappeared from the party for a few hours. When I finally emerged, I had composed a complete sketch of a song. That was the moment when I figured out that I had something to say that needed to come out.
It took quite a few years of dabbling in it when I had time, realizing that I didn’t really know what I was doing, and enrolling into the Berklee College of Music for four years so they could help me discover myself and develop into the songwriter and producer that I am today. I am a firm believer that Mastery is a goal that is always just out of reach. It’s not a destination where you finally arrive. There’s always another level, a new thing that you can learn, a new skill that you can acquire. I am infinitely better in all aspects of music today than I was four years ago. This is only the beginning of that evolution. I imagine that in four more years, I’ll be making that same statement about today.
This will be an interesting answer. There was a time when I thought that those genres needed to be kept in separate buckets. Like, today I’m a blues guitarist, tomorrow I’ll be a Latin musician, and next week I’ll be a metal guy. But the more I learned and experimented, the more fascinated I became with the bleedover between these various styles. And I think it is really cool having so many different angles that I can look at the same thing. Maybe see what this gospel progression might sound like pushed to 10 on a screaming hard rock guitar. Or, hey, I wonder what it would sound like mixing a Reggaeton beat with Texas Blues?
There are times when I make those conscious decisions just to push my limits and do some experimenting. But when I get into a track, things happen a lot more organically. Everything I do, I try to do in service to that particular song so that my audience feels something through my music. Many times, I’ll find those influences from other genres slipped their way into a song I was working on after the fact for that very reason. But at the end of the day, if you listen to one of my songs and don’t feel something, as far as I’m concerned, I failed.
Oh, most definitely. The Army taught me a lot. They trained me to pay attention to small details while still keeping the bigger picture in mind. They also taught me how to adapt to changing circumstances since life is always a dynamic thing that you can’t predict. I think all the things I learned in the Army play a role in how I approach music. But more than anything else is a “you don’t stop until the mission is complete” attitude. That’s the whole reason I now have three college degrees, and I’m set to release my debut album. I feel very confident that as my listeners start absorbing my music, they will find nods to my time in the military in the lyrics. What can I say, the Army played a major role in who I am today in all aspects of my life.
Yeah. There were so many takeaways from that experience, but I’ll give you two. One that was echoed by almost every professor I had was, “It’s tools, not rules.” Whether it’s music theory, scales, chord progressions, or whatever rigid thing, you sometimes get too wrapped up in trying to do things the “right way.” We tend to take that to mean following all the rules, which invariably make things too formulaic. This takes all of the soul out of a song. And akin to that was something I know I heard from Prince Charles Alexander, Bonnie Hayes, and Valerie Orth during my time at Berklee. You walk away from Berklee having all this newfound knowledge forgetting that simplicity is where it’s at. Attending Berklee makes you feel like you now have to impress the world with this newfound enlightenment by cramming every little thing you’ve learned into every song you work on.
What I had to keep drilling into my brain was that learning all of that technique is only the first step. That’s learning what the rules are. The second step is, now that you know the rules, you also know how to break the rules, which is the essence of “it’s tools, not rules.” And then the bigger part is that we are making these songs mostly for people who aren’t professional musicians. That’s the people we are servicing, people who just love music. If you make things too complicated by cramming too much into a song, all you’re doing is making the song too complicated for someone other than another musician to enjoy. In other words, the simpler, the better. And if you think about it, it’s true. Most of the biggest hit songs over the last 50 years masterfully employ some of the simplest things to make the most memorable songs ever. And that, amazingly, is one of the hardest things for us as songwriters, musicians, or any creative person to do. Know when to not use that cool guitar riff or drum part that you’re so proud of because it’s actually making the song worse.
What I try to impart to them is to always remember why you’re doing this. It’s your passion. It’s what drives you. Because there are going to be obstacles, problems, people who tell you no, times when you want to give up, and situations where you have to get creative to get out of life what you want. But if you always remember that burning fire inside you to make other people feel something through what you do, it will be what motivates you when you want to give up. In other words, never forget your “Why.” The reason why you have to do this thing. The reason why it is the only thing you can see yourself doing with the limited time you have on this spinning rock we call Earth.
Since a lot of them are dead, any one of them could explain to me what happens after death, lol. No, seriously, I would have loved to sit down with Prince before he died. That guy was such a Renaissance man when it came to music. He was extremely skilled in most of it. Something I aspire to myself. I would love to sit with him for a day and have him explain his creative process to me as he was doing it in real time. I think that would have been eye-opening.
As far as the musical aspects go, without a doubt. From the great musicians that came from Baton Rouge, where I’m from, to the sweet sounds of New Orleans. My grandmother is from the New Orleans area, so NOLA and the sounds of its music scene down Frenchman Street, at Tipitina’s, and just on street corners in the French Quarter have always inspired me and soothed my soul. It’s a very unique sound unto itself. Nothing is quite like New Orleans Blues, Jazz, or even New Orleans Bounce, for that matter. Obviously, I have a lot of influences from a lot of areas, but I think it all started with the sounds of the bayou. I’ve even had people tell me that they had a feeling I was from Louisiana just by the way I play guitar.
Freedom definitely. And I have Berklee, and more specifically Patrick Ermlich, to thank for that. What they helped me do was define my musical vision and then turn that vision into an entire brand image. I’ve actually never been more sure about who I am as a songwriter, musician, producer, or artist than I am right now. As far as I’m concerned, the identity, as it exists right now, is solidified. Now, it’s just a matter of people discovering it. I consider myself to be the next iteration of the Gen X sound. I think it takes an actual Gen Xer like me to truly capture the essence of the experiences my generation lived through. And there just aren’t enough new artists out there servicing us and what we grew up on. So I almost feel as if it’s my obligation to bring my fellow Gen Xers and those who are Gen X adjacent something familiar, but in a new way. And the best way to see what that embodiment looks like is to check out my website. I’m not in any way, shape or form a web designer, lol. But I spent a whole lot of time figuring out how to put one together. And I ended up with a product that I’m proud to say I created. So go check it out at www.jasonpatrickx.com. And sign up for my newsletter so you can stay on top of what’s going on as this story unfolds.
I actually already have plans in the works for a second album that I’m hoping to have ready in 2026. I would like to follow up this initial project with more material that will help further define my sound to my listeners. I imagine there will always be some element of guitarwork in what I do. It has been one constant throughout my life. But I do want to push myself. One thing we can always depend on is change. Nothing ever stays the same. And even though I’ve been around for a while, I still want to see who I am as an artist and songwriter continue to evolve over time.
One other area where I see myself doing that is in the sync space, writing music to be synchronized with live action. You know, like movies, TV, video games, ads, etc. If you think about it, the movie by itself is not half as exciting as the movie synced to some dramatic piece of music that accentuates what’s happening. I find that to be a fascinating way of mixing artistic mediums, and I want in. Stream Jason Patrick X’s album on Spotify from March 14. Until then, connect with the artist via Instagram and Facebook.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Shola OG’s voice carries the weight of lived experience—every bar a reflection of the lessons learned in Malton, the realities of survival, and the search for something greater. In this interview, he delves into the environment that shaped him, the hard choices that came with growing up in a place where respect and risk walked hand in hand, and how those moments carved out his signature style—a mix of raw, unfiltered grit and melodic introspection. From spinning records as a DJ to managing artists, Shola’s perspective on the music industry is as sharp as his pen game, and with his upcoming EP Unit 7, he’s proving that self-awareness and faith are just as important as lyricism. Read on as he breaks down his creative process, the impact of personal loss, and why his music is about more than just telling his own story—it’s about making sure others see a way forward, too
I appreciate y’all having me. A lot of stages of my life unfolded there because I was there from childhood all the way up to adulthood. My childhood was filled with memories of times with my family—growing up in the house with both my parents and my three siblings. We had a lot of good times, going on vacations to America, doing little family activities around the city, like going to the theme parks nearby.
We also did what all families do—we fought, we argued, we ate together, we prayed together. My father really loved movies, so we were always up on the latest ones, and especially around Christmas, we’d watch a lot of them together. A few things really stuck with me to this day because my mother and father kept us structured. Saturday mornings, we’d have to get up early to do chores—I always had to do the laundry for everyone in the house. Sunday mornings, we’d always be in church, and we always had to take care of our homework first right after school. All of that taught me to be a neat and organized person, someone who knows how to prioritize things in life—and, of course, to have my faith in Yahweh.
As a teenager, I started to hang out more, exploring the neighborhood and the surrounding areas. I mean, as a child, I was outside with my people, but as a teenager, you couldn’t catch me inside—my parents didn’t even know what I looked like anymore, lol. When you’re a teenager, you start to explore ways to put money in your pocket. I had a few factory jobs I did with my boys, but we also used to break into cars, take things of value, and sell them on the streets. I used to do a lot of other things too. Some of my boys sold drugs, but I was never into that.
In Malton, we’re always about pushing a whip—we never wanted to be caught dead taking the bus. So when you get yourself a little bit of money, buy yourself a nice ride, and pull up with it, the ladies start to come through. My block, 3430, was the most active and most reputable block in the neighborhood at the time, so when you’re coming from there, the respect you get is higher. When you mix all that together—the fly cars, the money, the respect, the weapons, and the girls—it becomes an energy. And when you’re stepping outside with that kind of energy as a teen, the good times are really good. But then, when you come across dudes from other neighborhoods with that same energy, the good times can turn bad fast, and that’s when all the beef starts happening.
So my teenage years in Malton were defining moments that presented a lot of choices and obstacles.
Going into my early adulthood, you start to look at things a little differently. You start to understand the lessons your parents tried to teach you and the experiences that the OGs shared—especially if you’re like me and want to make something of yourself and add value to this world and the people around you. I lost a few friends along the way as a teen, so making it to adulthood felt good. I had a couple of kids and decided I wanted to do better for them, and that’s what I’ve been on ever since.
My father passed away from cancer about two months after I had my first child. I was 19, turning 20. It was a pivotal time when I felt I needed him the most. My family was crushed, but our extended family—the people of Malton—really held us down with their presence and support. That’s what Malton really is. It’s family. More than likely, if I know you, I also know your entire family because it’s such a small population.
Today, the music I make is a narration of my life in Malton and how it’s made me the man I am now. There are still so many things that need to be said in the music, but you’ll get it over time.
I’m naturally a quiet person. I can be in a room full of people having the time of their life, and I’ll be the one chilling. So naturally, my delivery on any beat is calm and smooth—I’m not trying to be someone I’m not just to make music. The gritty beats just feel like the music I grew up listening to in my neighborhood, so it feels like home.
In Toronto, growing up, we wanted to party to reggae and dancehall music—we didn’t want to hear anything else. But if the DJ did put on something else, it better be gritty. On car rides with the homies, smoking blunts, pulling up to the destination—we were listening to some gritty ish like Pac, Dipset, 50, DMX, The LOX, or Biggie. On a solo tip or when I’m with a lady, it’s always R&B.
As a DJ, it showed me that music matters. The emotions people feel and show when you play their record—that’s why it’s important to keep it 100 real in your music. People feel that.
It also showed me that when you’re on stage, you’re the captain of the ship. The crowd goes where you want them to go—if you’re boring, the crowd is gonna be boring. If you give energy, the crowd will give it right back. If you want them to throw their hands in the air, that’s what they’ll do.
As a manager, it helped me to understand the industry better—how to read contracts, advance shows, how to have a proper rollout, etc. All of that is important to your success.
It’s just about giving people hope and encouragement. Most people think they’re alone in their struggles. Some don’t even know how to explain what they’re going through. So I make it a point to share, so they know they’re not alone.
That’s what I bring to the table. I talk about my struggles, but I don’t leave it there—I also make sure to let listeners know about the light at the end of the struggle so that they have hope and feel encouraged. That’s the mission that Yahweh gave me for my music.
I’ve been going through a tough time recently, and going back home mentally and emotionally, as I said earlier, just helps me remember who I am. My humble beginnings shaped me.
On the EP, I’m not necessarily giving you all the little stories that took place growing up—those will come with other projects. Unit 7 is more of an attitude. It’s more of “I’m here now, and I’m showing up as a man who knows himself better.” The way I talk, my mentality, the swagger—that is Shola OG.
By continuously showing up for them with consistency in my messaging and in my moves. In this world, seeing is believing. The more they see, the more they believe—especially if the one doing it is a kid who grew up in a home or a neighborhood with stories just like theirs.
Not only that, but I’m working to be in a position to help in tangible ways. People have dreams and big ideas. People are going through tough times but have no way of getting them out, getting them funded, or no one to turn to for help. That, more often than not, is where the struggle is at. I just want to be used by Yahweh to help.
Discover Shola OG’s music on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Some artists make music to fill the silence; L.O.W Tha Rider crafts sound to channel the energies most people ignore. In this conversation, the artist opens up about the spiritual forces that influence creativity, the balance between chaos and escapism in music, and the unseen origins of inspiration. With an unwavering commitment to authenticity, L.O.W Tha Rider discusses the industry’s expectations, the power of frequencies, and the weight of meaningful expression. For those who believe music is more than entertainment—this is a discussion worth absorbing.
There’s a connection to everything. So, yeah, the spiritual realm can touch us. Such as demons we can’t see, or angels we can’t see, but if we talking music, it’s all in what energy you fester and give…
I think both, talking for both spectrums, artists should feel free to express no matter what. To single them out, if an artist wants to reflect that of unrest, it’s excellent because that shows struggle in their art and a possibility how to solve it ….. To offer an escape is to release, but also, it’s running away, but both are excellent forms of music that we need.
The mindset and free spirit, also the willingness to gain understanding music sometimes distracts from what is around
Yes, sometimes, the gods and goddesses, angels grant me insight rather in the form of an idea or a dream. Like when I’m making a beat or writing, I go with what my soul feels. So, whether it comes from them speaking through me or my own intention, it’s amazing to listen back and be like I created this… Sometimes, I ask how.
I never heard of that. That’s dope (lol), but frequencies can alter consciousness if you let it, meaning what kind of sounds you listen to. For instance, if you are listening to low vibrating frequencies, you vibrate low; if it’s high in love and happiness and also peacefulness, then so much can happen to bring it down but will you let it? it’s kinda revolving.
Everyone is competing to be heard, yet what are they fighting for and what people have the heart and mind to listen….. I’m always obligated to say something meaningful cause it’s on my heart …. When it comes to music, whether it’s a beat or a song, it speaks for itself.
Greed because the mindset for money would be eliminated, and more people who made it big would be giving. Thus eliminating the room for hate and fear, possibly meaning with greed out the way more will be willing to share the road and journey, also the possibility of buying things that will help move along people to being at ease. Knowing this world. will they create more love after that happens or just take it for granted?
Endless possibilities -sonic unleashed [OST]… reason why to show the youth and adults, that there are no limits in life as humans we make our own limits so with that being said kick open those doors to grasp understanding also to free the mind also heart.
Yeah, I have been clowned a lot of times but never gave in, and my mindset is to be a person of love and freedom cause we are not free in this world right now life yes but the world no …. I would never entertain, that’s for people who music is not free, condemned and soulless you can tell the difference.
Stream L.O.W Tha Rider on Spotify or connect with the artist on Instagram.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
In this interview, Flame opens up about the deeply emotive core of Pride of the Lamb, an EP that embraces vulnerability, introspection, and the raw intensity of human emotion. With a soundscape influenced by the atmospheric depths of Thom Yorke, which carries the cinematic touch of Ramin Djawadi, Flame crafts music that resonates with those who seek a profound connection through sound. We explore how production techniques, vocal expression, and thematic storytelling shape the EP’s immersive impact, as well as the role of resilience and self-reflection in Flame’s songwriting. From discussing the influence of Porcupine Tree and Alice In Chains to revealing the creative process behind capturing such expressive depth, this conversation offers insight into the layers of meaning woven throughout Pride of the Lamb.
Hello Amelia,
Thank you so much for having me. And thank you for such precious compliments!
The making of Pride of the Lamb was a very intense and emotional journey. It is the very first body of work in which I decided to get lost without necessarily trying to find a way out. I think that sense of determined journeying was key to creating a visceral emotional bond with every element of the music.
Production was another stage of the creative journey where I found a path to creating that intense emotional depth and a connection between myself and my audience. During production, I sought to create a space with my music where emotions could flourish and be free – I would envisage this dark, almost void-like space, which would then be lit up by a thousand shades of colour reflective of the emotions passing through my lyrics and vocals. I was chasing this idea of a space that could be infinite yet intimate at the same time; composing and performing in a way that felt right in capturing the expression of my soul.
Before recording the vocals for each song, my producer, Etain Sweeney, would talk me through the meaning of my song. And as I sat on the floor, or on her bed, or in the studio where all these conversations took place, I’d find myself spiralling, trying to find a perfect answer to her question because it was never one I had asked myself. My focus had always been the conjuring and exorcism of the emotions I was feeling rather than a clear cause or single meaning.
But her questions prompted greater introspection – taking me back to the point of creation and examining the situations and events that prompted the emotions I felt. I think is what keeps the vocals so intentionally primal, raw and unpolished, that emotionally focused mindset, rather than the one of creating perfect notes. Sometimes, overthinking isn’t necessarily a bad thing!
The realisation of those concepts didn’t occur to me until much later in the production of this EP. Although the songs were written in different moments of my life, I always felt that there was something connecting them – a red thread running throughout that only appeared when I stepped back to view the tapestry of the work as a whole. That thread was the difficulty I faced in connecting these moments, the painful recollections that glue them together.
I guess those focal points were almost a result of the difficulty I found in expressing my emotions in such a raw and unvarnished way. I was excited to bring something new to the world, and yet that something came as a result of heartache, solitude, healing, and a natural journey of resilience, grace, and growth.
I have many different influences, with Porcupine Tree, Alice In Chains, Dave Matthews Band, and The Cranberries being the major ones.
Despite being very different sonic landscapes from each other and from my own, I try to focus on what is real about their music. My mind often reflects on how, when, what and why they – among many other artists – wrote what they wrote. I soak my soul in what their music leaves me, and I try to do the exact same in my own world and words, even though I do occasionally take the liberty of adding a little referral Easter egg.
I like the idea of using many intertwining layers that could complement each other’s presence through reverberation. It’s how these layers communicate with each other that gives space for empathy and emotions. Automations and customised plug-ins are great for these things.
I also experimented with different acoustic spaces, recreating the atmosphere of particular places like McEwan’s Hall in Edinburgh through impulse responses and convulsions to fully immerse the audience in my world. It sounded wonderful, but I chose a different route for this release, as although it perfectly echoed the emotions I was aiming to recreate, the vocals and instrumentation lost some of the colour which I felt more importantly fostered that emotional empathy and connection in my audience.
However, I have been working a lot in Dolby Atmos and convolutions for upcoming music, and this experimentation brings emotions on a whole new, immersive level.
Watch this space!
I don’t always find it easy to confront certain emotions or themes in my day-to-day life, but I’ve realised over the course of this EP, that it is necessary and fundamental to what I do. I resonate a lot with Shakespeare in perceiving art as holding up a mirror to ourselves, and this unflinching musical honesty gives me a sort of strength to truly feel, examine, and face these difficulties in my daily existence. I am who I am, might as well face it to embrace it. It is actually kind of funny the way that during and after the production, I felt myself charged with so much love and appreciation for all the people that stayed and that are in my life. I am eternally grateful to be able to love and feel loved.
And that it is exactly what pushes me to not just song write for myself, but share my music, is the idea of somebody out there feeling what I feel, and can relate, so that when they hear my words, they don’t feel like they have to face whatever challenge or dream might be in front of them alone.
Songwriting has always been my emotional outlet, but I didn’t fully embrace it until about 6 years ago. My approach to songwriting functions as a method of carving these emotional encounters into my memories, encounters which can be brought back to life any time I play those songs again.
With this intention, I have found that while the creation or production of a song may fade into distant memory, the lingering taste of the emotional experience that triggered it remains. It is also fascinating how, in some cases, the initial meaning evolves into something more relatable to events closer to the present time, bringing a whole new emotional experience to the table.
As I mentioned earlier, although the songs were written at different times, they had that joining red thread which kept a sort of narrative flowing through, a cohesive theme which has been an elusive will o’ the wisp for me to put a name to.
The EP as a whole is not so much a storytelling piece but an exploration of the process of opening up to people who then, through whatever means, betray that vulnerability and fade from your life without ever taking accountability for the pain they caused. When I take a step back to look at the work now, I see more than just pain, but progress from my original headspace and growth in my willingness to love unconditionally.
‘On Tape’ is the conceptual closure of the EP, coming after all that pain that’s been let out. I’m just glad I was able to create something out of it. It is what I take away with me when paths divide.
Pride of the Lamb was actually the last song I wrote on the EP, and you’re right; it is very personal and makes me feel very vulnerable.
It talks about the sensation of home, which, to me, often feels like being a spectator in both somebody else’s life and my own. It reflects on that constant ache—the desire to move backward or forward in time, to change things, to skip the present—caught in the delusion that we alone could somehow alter the course of things.
In the end, I know the choices of others aren’t mine to make. All I can do is face my own reflection with courage and honesty while watching them build their lives in their own way.
Stream the Pride of the Lamb EP on Spotify now. Find other ways to connect with Flame via this link.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Warlet doesn’t hold back when it comes to honesty in her music. The Brazilian-born, Nova Scotia-based artist uses her platform to explore deep emotions, societal expectations, and the realities of being a neurodivergent Latin immigrant in the music industry. Inspired by artists like Twenty One Pilots and NF, she aims to offer listeners the same sense of understanding and comfort that once guided her through difficult times. With a sound shaped by emo, trap, pop rap, and RnB, her music carries both weight and intensity, reflecting her passion for raw expression. In this interview, she discusses her approach to songwriting, the intersection of her creative skills, and how she balances vulnerability with the energy of live performance.
Thank you guys for having me! It’s a pleasure! To me, being an artist means using one of the most amazing things human beings can do, which is to create, and give it back to people by making something meaningful in any form. I always say that I love making music because I want to make people feel something, whatever that is. Emotions are so beautiful and art is an outlet to explore that on us.
I don’t think I could ever be any other way. Being sincere about my feelings is my natural instinct with everything in life, maybe because of my autism, I don’t know really… But to me, vulnerability is powerful and being your true self should always be encouraged in society even though it really isn’t… Talking about the hard things once in a while is just as important as being entertained! I wish we all reminded ourselves of that more often.
I think I was heavily inspired by Twenty One Pilots and NF on this one. In different moments of my life, these two artists literally helped me organize my own thoughts and feelings when I needed the most, which led me a moment where I thought to myself, “that’s exactly what I want my music to do to people”. I am motivated by the idea that there is someone out there listening to my song and relating to the lyrics, and that this brings them comfort, just like one day somebody’s music changed my life as well.
Honestly, the music scene where I live in Nova Scotia is pretty opened and welcoming. These factors do affect my daily experiences in other areas more often than I would like, but at least the music world I am currently in, is one of those safe spaces away from all of this. I know once my horizons open up to the bigger world of music, it will be different, as this is a smaller community, but at least I have a good base to start building on.
My passion for all these genres! The interesting thing is I think all these genres speak about deep topics whether on a social context or an emotional place, which is probably what drew me into these types of music more. I’m also very attached to heavier sounds overall, I’m passionate about heavier sounding beats, stronger vocals and any impactful sound on a song.
I always try to do at least a small beatbox showcase every time I perform! Eventually, I want to make some of my music being fully organic – with “mouth” sounds only, per say, it’s a plan for the future. I’m as well always drawing and designing my own cover arts and concepts for my music, so it’s quite helpful to mix all these worlds together!
That’s hard to say, since the whole idea behind this EP was to be as genuine and raw with my emotions as I could, so in a way, all of them could fall into this category of capturing my life perfectly, but in different aspects. I do feel like “SOCIALMASKS” will always be that song that describes the struggles of being an autistic woman the best and more precisely though, if I had to point out one of them.
I want to be real with every performance. Yes, I want to make people hyped and willing to dance as well, but I am hoping my passion for my own lyrical process comes through when I am singing on stage.
It is actually quite challenging – and funny. I feel like I am extremely awkward inside, but I did in the past take classes with my mother, who is a performance coach, and I just try to embody her lessons on my whole body in order to be a good performer. I have a lot to work on though, and I’m slowly trying to find ways to feel comfortable moving on stage regardless of my disability that kind of makes me a little terrified of being perceived! It’s the big irony of my life. I love to be an artist and show true myself just as much as I’m scared of being seen. It’s a work in progress for sure!
I’m still very underground and frankly, just want to put my music out there in the world and form my own community of people that enjoy what I do. Making connections with people is what makes this whole music thing stronger, and I look forward to what other opportunities this project will open up for me. These are the first steps of what will eventually become a bigger achievement but I want to enjoy and appreciate every detail of the journey.
Stream Warlet’s discography on Spotify and stay up to date with all her latest aural antics on Instagram and TikTok.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Independent alt-punk band As Rome Burns are making their mark on the London music scene, fuelled by their commitment to raw, energetic live performances and an unfiltered take on modern issues. In this interview, they discuss the financial and logistical challenges of being a DIY band, the impact of streaming platforms on new artists, and why grassroots venues remain vital to the industry. From the patriarchal violence that inspired their track Boy to the realities of self-promotion in a saturated market, the band provide a candid look at the obstacles facing independent musicians today. As they gear up for a busy 2025, with an EP in the works and festival ambitions on the horizon, they remain focused on their ethos: making music that moves people—whether through sound, meaning, or sheer energy on stage.
Pete: Thank you so much! We’re really stoked with how our alternative, rock, and punk sound has come together. As for the industry, we’re a DIY band—putting our own money and energy into this project—and while it’s clear that being full-time musicians isn’t financially feasible right now, that hasn’t slowed us down one bit. We know that the music has to fit alongside our day jobs, and finding that balance can be tough for a lot of bands. But honestly, the challenges we face haven’t dampened our enthusiasm at all. We’re all about creating original music and getting it out there to an audience in great venues, and so far, we’ve been able to do just that without any major roadblocks.
Sam: I think for all of us, the priority is just making music and performing, it would be amazing to turn this into a day job, but just having the freedom and support to put our music out there is the ultimate goal.
Pete: Alex, our drummer is the glue that brought us all together. I met Alex about 18 months ago. I’d start playing open mic nights covering classic folk and rock tunes from the likes of Springsteen and Dylan and from that got jamming with another guitarist who knew Alex and brought him along to drum the session. Pretty soon Alex and I were meeting up regularly playing together and had a few months with a conveyer belt of other musicians joining in before we finally found the perfect group dynamic when David (Lead Guitar) and Sam (Bass and backing vocals) joined us in the Summer of 2024, both guys came through Alex.
Sam: I think my first session with the guys, where they showed me what they’d been working on for the last few months was eye opening, we just jelled so well from the get-go in terms of music taste and enthusiasm. It was like a breath of fresh air!
Pete: We’re a live rock band. Our motivation for doing this is that we want to make sure we’re putting on an absolute blinder of a live show. We recognise that when people come to see a DIY band in a grassroots venue, they’re taking a risk with their money that it’s going to be worth their time and we won’t squander the opportunity to make sure that our setlist is above all other things – really fucking great.
Sam: As Pete says, it’s about energy, being able to get people dancing, but also provoke some thought through our music is incredible. I think in terms of ethos we just love making, and playing music, it’s as simple as that!
Pete: We are still a young band, settling on a “sound” and so I’d say that our music is reflective of the influences that each musician brings to the table. Alex’s drumming is very heavy – inspired by post-hardcore bands like Architects and Currents. David is also a metalhead but his lead guitar lines are reminiscent of Kings of Leon. Within one or two sessions with Sam in the band as a bassist, we’d written on of our favourite songs “I think you should leave” (to be recorded later this year) which is an amalgamation of Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Rage Against the Machine and the bassline he came up with is probably my favourite bassline of all time. I think its fair to say that I probably bring in more of a modern indie vibe to the proceedings – I am massively influenced by bands like Idles and Wunderhorse. However, what we hope is that these diverse influences help us to create something fresh and exciting.
Sam: One of my biggest influences in the way I play the bass is flea, but also with a dash of Chris Wolstenholme and Nick Oliveri (which I acknowledge might be a bit eclectic!). For me its about powerful, energetic basslines which are just as important when present, as when they’re missing. I love slap, hence ‘I think you should leave’ but I think blending the sound together, in the way Muse do so well is critical.
Pete: I think the meaning or our songs is ultimately up to the listener, but as a band, we aim to write songs about modern themes and issues. I wrote many of the lyrics to our debut song Boy in early 2024, around the time that Alexei Navalny was murdered. What struck me most was how the media instinctively framed his death in the context of geopolitics, rationalising an act of violence in a way that dulled its horror. Once you notice this tendency to explain away violence, particularly violence rooted in patriarchal systems of power, it becomes impossible to ignore.
The song also references Sarah Everard, Brianna Ghey, and Jamal Khashoggi, innocent people whose brutal murders were not only horrific but also emblematic of the systemic violence perpetuated by patriarchal structures. These acts, often justified or contextualised by media narratives, reflect an ingrained tendency to intellectualise rather than confront the power imbalances and misogyny at their core. In some ways, this rationalisation feels like a subconscious apology for the perpetrator, further silencing the victims and avoiding the uncomfortable truths about the systems that enable such violence.
With Boy we wanted to shine a light on this pattern and question why society is so quick to rationalise patriarchal violence rather than acknowledge its raw brutality. It’s about forcing ourselves to confront these uncomfortable truths and challenge the systems that perpetuate them.
Sam: Our music is ultimately inspired by our own experiences and feelings, we have songs that represent our take on the state of the world, and misinformation, songs about patriarchal violence and political violence. Ultimately art is in the eye of the beholder, but I would like people to see our music as a protest against common themes in society today, and use them as an anthem to give them energy to fight against these issues.
Pete: At this stage our greatest challenge is getting our recorded music out there to a wider audience. In the UK, streaming platforms account for over 85% of all music consumption. The real struggle with that is that it is incredibly difficult for new music to break through the algorithms that favour established artists and new acts signed to major labels (which have the resources to help those acts break through that algorithm). It would be great if streaming platforms would consider better ways of helping acts like us to get our music out to audiences who might be into it but until then we will keep plugging away making music purely for the joy of it and not worry too much about things that are out of our control.
Sam: Along with streaming, I think the deck is very much stacked against grassroots music these days, without being signed its so hard to find opportunities. We are fortunate that we are able to fund our band ourselves, but for others who aren’t so lucky, it can be impossible to get good recordings, and therefore gigs, with transport costs and get an audience together. The government needs to do more to support the arts and culture in the UK, to bring us back to being world leading in musical influence.
Pete: I’m not sure I’d describe anything I’ve had to do as a sacrifice. We’ve certainly put more money into it than we’ll likely see back out of it anytime soon but once we’re on stage playing out songs – it all seems worth it.
Sam: I think the biggest sacrifice is time, time with family and friends, time spent practicing, reaching out to promoters, writing music all takes a toll. Thankfully we all have very understanding partners!
Pete: I think the biggest learning curve for me (which has only dawned recently) is that we have to accept that we need to get better at social media if we want to widen our fan base. We would all much rather be making music, rather than “content” but we’re finding ways, slowly but surely, to do both.
Sam: I really didn’t realise how much promoters dominate the industry at the low levels, it feels like you have to make friends with a lot of people to make progress!
Pete: The Hope & Anchor is one of those grassroots venues that every small UK band needs to play at some stage. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a small venue, the soundproof cladding is coming off the walls, bands have their stickers stuck on everything and there isn’t a green room for the artists so all the gear is just stacked up in a mess in the corner. It’s seen bands like Joy Division, the Cure, the Ramones and U2 play there back in the day and it felt great playing to such an energetic crowd.
Sam: The feeling and the atmosphere there really added to the music. I know we would put in the same shift whether we were playing to an empty venue but to have a full crowd there to support us was just incredible. I’m hopeful we can keep up the momentum but the main thing is creating those opportunities to showcase how our music can move people.
Pete: We’re currently working with three reputable promoters in London, and they’ve been fantastic in helping us take those first steps into the live music scene here. They’ve provided us with opportunities to perform, gain some exposure and build our confidence on stage, which we’re really grateful for.
That said, as we’ve started to connect with other bands and the live music community, we’ve seen the potential of playing gigs organised by bands themselves, which often allows for a more collaborative and grassroots approach. We’re exploring the balance between working with promoters and pursuing those kinds of opportunities, both have their unique advantages.
One thing we’ve noticed about the traditional promoter model is the expectation of bands to sell tickets. While that’s understandable to a degree, it’s something we feel could be shared more evenly between promoters and bands to ensure both are invested in bringing in an audience.
Moving forward, we’re open to a hybrid approach – working with promoters who can introduce us to new audiences whilst also collaborating with other bands and communities to create events that align more closely with our ethos. Ultimately for us it’s all about finding opportunities to connect with people who are passionate about live music and giving them an engaging show.
Sam: Totally echo what Pete said there, we want to make sure we have the recordings, live performances, and festival performances to showcase how dedicated we are to making music. Part of that is building the contacts in the industry and showing how serious we are about playing. I do this kind of relationship-building a lot in my day job, but I didn’t quite grasp how much you would have to do it as a musician too!
Pete: I think so far they work both hand in hand. Having gigs in the diary has really focussed our minds and helped us work towards an end goal – ensuring we have a fresh and exciting set list of music for our audiences.
Sam: Thankfully we are really self-motivated, as I said I think we could play at 100% energy to an empty room, our music does and always will come from within. So I think we have done really well in staying grounded.
Pete: That is an amazing question! In terms of improving the live ecosystem, I think in the next ten years we need to see way more movement on subsidies and support for grassroots culture (not just music but theatre, art, poetry, the lot). Calls from the Music Venue Trust that £1 of all tickets sold at Stadiums and Arenas should be distributed to smaller venues is an excellent idea and it’s amazing to hear Sam Fender took it upon himself to follow that suggestion whilst selling tickets for his latest tour. Turning towards how people access and enjoy recorded music, I would really like to see streaming platforms rethinking their algorithms and paying musicians a fair wage for the content that they are profiting from.
Sam: It’s so hard to say, I think given the closures of so many venues, the decline of streaming revenue and the movement of revenue into the pockets of the 0.01% of musicians, a lot of work will have to be done to bring things back to the environment that existed 20+ years ago. I think people are cautiously optimistic about coming out to crowded venues again, now covid is less of an issue, and the newer generations are embracing live music like never before. I’m optimistic but not blind to the work that needs to be done.
Pete: One thing I didn’t fully appreciate before joining this band is just how much proactivity is required to make it work. Being in an independent band isn’t just about writing music, practising your instrument, and honing your craft. You’re wearing so many hats at once. You’re an actor on stage, a social media strategist online, and a marketer promoting your work. You need to keep up with current events and cultural shifts, stay inspired by listening to new music, and sometimes even master technical skills like videography or understanding the science of sound. All of this has to happen while juggling a day job and maintaining some semblance of a personal life. It’s a constant balancing act, and I think people outside the music world often underestimate just how multi-faceted and demanding it really is.
Sam: You have to be your own success, you won’t see any improvement for so long but if you keep at it, you can make it! Or at least that’s what I tell myself!
Pete: We have three goals for 2025. We want to release an EP, continue to play a number of gigs on the London circuit and to play at least one music festival this summer. It’s going to be a great year and we’re off to a fantastic start with a number of gigs lined up in February and March. We are also in discussions with a number of recording studios regarding the EP. Now, we’re just waiting for Glastonbury to give us the call.
Sam: Or Download!
Stream As Rome Burns on Spotify.
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Interview by Amelia Vandergast