We publish these accounts because silence protects the wrong people.

Italian band Antiquus Infestus reached out to Rock Era Magazine with a direct and significant update. After taking matters into their own hands and presenting their case with documented evidence, Spotify has removed their music from the platform — it is no longer searchable and no longer appearing on their artist page. The platform read their message, evaluated their proofs, and acted in their favour.

In their own words to us:

“We managed to have our music removed from Spotify. It would be great if you talked about it, helping us to spread this.”

They added:

“Other bands will follow. We must make sure Saïd Chebacheb and Darkside Records cannot exploit anyone else in the future.”

And finally:

“Thank you guys! I appreciate your support in keeping the attention on the scammers.”

Their official statement, published across their social media platforms, reads:

“We are working in silence to get back what is rightfully ours. Spotify is the first platform to take down our music. The album is no longer searchable nor is it showing on our page. They read our message, heard our reasons, evaluated our proofs and decided to act in our favour. Other platforms will follow. If you want to listen to our music, please visit our Bandcamp page, which has always been managed by us. Thanks to those who are sharing the path with us and their support in gathering all the proofs.”

This is a meaningful step — and a signal to every other affected band that pursuing these claims through platform channels, with documented evidence, can yield results. Other platforms are expected to follow.

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Rock Era Magazine has also heard again from Imane, bassist of Moroccan metal bands Nexus 7.17 and Tombstone, whose account puts the current wave of disclosures into a longer, more troubling context.

Imane attempted to warn the Arab metal community about Darkside Records and Saïd Chebacheb before many of the most recent accounts came to light. The response she received was not gratitude — it was legal intimidation.

In her own words:

“In late last year I tried to warn Arab metal society under one of their posts endorsing DSR’s presence in Egypt. My goal was to spread the word on what happened to Sakadoya and some bands in Tunisia before 2022. Instead, I was met with harassment from Said and his friend, who happens to own a law firm in Morocco. I was asked to publicly apologise to Said and take back my claims in video format on all my social media — or they were going to sue me. I did not care about their threat, but I was definitely shocked by what he can do to silence people.”

She added:

“He tried to sign my band back in 2019, but luckily we’ve always had a bad gut feeling about DSR and Said. Thank you for sharing Sakadoya’s evidence — spreading DSR’s legal status is going to save a lot of bands moving forward.”

Imane also directed our attention to a Tunisian band whose suffering began earlier than almost anyone else in this story — and has lasted longer.

Tunisian metal band CARTHAGODS have been dealing with the consequences of their relationship with Darkside Records since October 2019 — when, by their account, Saïd Chebacheb left Tunisia, blocked all communication channels, and settled in Morocco. Their 2024 statement, which Rock Era Magazine republishes here in full, documents the scale of what was left behind:

“Hi everybody. As many of you have mentioned, ‘The Monster In Me’ album has been taken down from all the platforms. This was after Darkside Records decided that we owe him €100,000 for the recording and the promotion costs of the album.

The Darkside Records chapter was a tough one for the band — not only did it cause us multiple problems as a band and as artists, but also as humans. It literally destroyed many relationships and partnerships around us because of the huge amounts of unpaid money left under our names — recording, mixing, flight tickets, video making, merch — after Darkside Records escaped from Tunisia in October 2019 and blocked all communication.

Today, after almost five long years, during which we worked hard to stay together and go forward with our art and our passion — to connect with the people who always believed in us — we are still dealing with the consequences.

On the other hand, Darkside Records got in contact with us several times asking for another chance. Our position was clear: the dues need to be paid. He even reached out to several of our partners. Some were paid and never worked with him again. Others are still waiting for payment until today.

We would like to express our gratitude for your messages and support. Our current label Flying Dolphins is in search of a solution. We will provide updates as soon as we hear from them.

Stay true. Stay metal.”

An entire album removed. Five years of damage to relationships, finances, and creative momentum. A claim of €100,000 owed — levelled at the very band that was left unpaid. And an ongoing search for resolution that continues to this day.

The picture being assembled here — across Italy, Tunisia, Morocco, and beyond — is consistent, documented, and growing. Bands are reclaiming their music. Platforms are listening. Legal threats are being made against those who speak up. And the timeline of harm stretches back to at least 2019.

Rock Era Magazine will continue to publish every verified account we receive. We stand in complete solidarity with every other artist who has been affected — named in our coverage or not.

To every band still hesitant to come forward: the evidence is working. The platforms are listening. And you are not alone.

• Before we dive into the anniversary edition — for anyone discovering your work for the first time through this release, how did you first come to music, and what drew you specifically toward progressive rock, jazz fusion, and instrumental composition as your creative home?

The piano was there almost from the beginning. My older brother took lessons, would practice, get frustrated and walk away, and I would sit down and play by ear what he had just been struggling with. This would make him very angry. I still play what I hear, whether it comes from inside or outside my head. Later I was drawn to the way progressive rock and jazz fusion moved beyond the standard song “verse-chorus-verse” form. Yes, Genesis, ELP, the Moody Blues, Jethro Tull and Frank Zappa were part of that path, along with Chick Corea, Jean-Luc Ponty and Herbie Hancock. For me, instrumental music can tell a story in the same way classical music does. Those influences were eventually absorbed and translated through the piano and through the way I hear music.

• “Fuel For The Fire” began in 1984 in a basement studio in Brooklyn Center, Minnesota — reel-to-reel tape machines, synthesizers, instinct, and whatever equipment you could afford. What was the original vision for that record, and what did making music feel like in an era before the internet, streaming, or tutorials existed to guide you?

I was learning and doing at the same time. I was on a tight budget, but I wanted the freedom to do it myself, so I gathered what I needed and kept moving forward. The basement of that duplex became my cockpit of creativity. Many of the melodies had been with me on the piano for years. I would work out the song there, then assign instrument sounds to the parts that brought out its intent. The desire to get the music out was the fire that drove the realization. There was no internet, Spotify, YouTube or instant distribution, and no easy way to learn how someone else had done something. I read books and magazines, talked to people, went to the library, and learned by doing. When you’re making music that isn’t “mainstream,” it can be concerning. The synth sounds, mixing guidance, and “tips” were based on the popular trends of the time. Van Halen released “Jump,” and suddenly all the synths sound like Oberheim OB-Xa… that kind of thing.

• You’ve said that for a long time you avoided revisiting this album — that the music no longer matched what you heard in your head and you needed to move forward. What finally shifted, and what was the moment you understood that returning to “Fuel For The Fire” was about realization rather than nostalgia?

As time went on, I kept hearing other versions of these songs in my head—spots that needed guitar, drums, more emphasis here, clearer direction there. Eventually the desire to make those versions real compelled me to move forward, and I realized that I had to bring the new versions out.

It wasn’t nostalgia or even rediscovery; I have known this music for a very long time. It was fun. I had the opportunity to open the recordings up and give the songs more room to say what they wanted to say now. I heard my younger self bringing a concept to life with what he had at the time. I heard potential. It stayed potential until I looked closely again, and then the potential became realized.

When I started experimenting with AI stemming technology, I realized I could reverse-engineer the songs and split out the tracks—mostly. Since the master tapes were no longer usable, that gave me a path to dive deeply into what I did forty years ago, refresh, re-record and remix the tracks. I saw a way to combine what existed with new ideas and sounds, and truly “work with my younger self” to bring this to life.

• The phrase that changed everything for you was: “You’ll receive more when you realize what you’ve already been given.” Where did that thought come from — and how did it reshape not just your approach to this album but your relationship with your own creative past?

I wrote that phrase in my journal sometime after the original album release, while I was accumulating piano improvisation recordings over the years: “You’ll receive more when you realize what you’ve already been given.”

I believe it came from what I think of as my higher self—the “still voice” I hear that gives me direction. That idea was important enough to me that the original album was released on Still Voice Records.

Returning to Fuel For The Fire made the phrase feel much more literal. My younger self had already given me the songs, the story and the original fire. Coming back to the music and, in a sense, working with that younger self filled me with gratitude. I could hear how far I had come in learning and growing, while also recognizing that I was still essentially the same person in my desire to make music.

The project became part of a cycle that doesn’t really end. I am my younger self, and I am who I am now. It is all one thing. A lot of old melodies and little musical ideas I recorded over the years are still finding their way into new work, which feels like another expression of that same “higher self” direction.

• The 40th Anniversary Edition weaves original 1984 recordings throughout the new versions — old tracks shadowing new performances, original atmospheres blending with modern textures. What did it feel like to hear those isolated tracks from forty years ago for the first time in decades — and were there moments where the younger version of you surprised you?

I have known this music for a long time, so it didn’t feel like rediscovering it. What was new was being able to isolate each part in a way I had not been able to since the original recordings. Every little artifact was exposed. I was surprised that some of the most useful and distinctive elements were the background synth landscape. I was able to reconstruct the piano part enough to be able to play a new track. It was a cringe moment hearing how bad the drum machine could sound, and none of it survived into the new version, even though it somehow worked at the time. There were also random synth squeaks, swoops and falls that I probably would not think to make now. They are completely unique to those songs, and I am glad the younger version of me put them there.

• You used modern AI stemming tools, vinyl transfers, and MIDI conversion alongside live drums, guitar, and new orchestration to rebuild these recordings. As someone who has now navigated both analog and digital eras of music-making, how do you think about the role of technology as a creative tool — and where do you draw the line between using it and letting it take over?

Technology made this project possible. The master tapes were no longer usable, and stemming software allowed me to separate the songs and preserve parts of the original while rebuilding around them. But the tools did not decide the direction.

I imagined a production slider, from simply remastering the original to rerecording everything, and what moved that slider was what I kept hearing in my head. There needed to be real drums, guitar, bass and new piano, while the original synth landscape remained essential.

I’ve used technology such as digital audio workstations and virtual instruments for many years. It is much easier to make music now, but I draw a hard line at technology actually composing the music for me. A tool can help reveal, separate, clean up, organize or realize an idea, but the musical intention has to come from me. If the technology becomes the source of the creative decision, then I’m no longer sure what my role is.

I rarely use programmed rhythms beyond sketching ideas or very small patterns. Even with AI, I’m comfortable using it as a tool, but not as the thing that creates the music. That may sound old-fashioned, but that’s where the line is for me.

• Your son Marcus contributed guitar parts to music originally created before he was born. What did it mean to bring him into this particular project — and what did his presence add to the music and to the story the album tells?

I kept hearing that some of the music needed guitar. As soon as I knew this version of the album was going to be realized, I knew I wanted Marcus to play on it. He came over and recorded his parts into my DAW setup, and his guitar became part of expanding the original palette and bringing the music closer to the fuller expression I had been hearing.

There is a definite sense of time passing when I zoom out on the whole process. I was younger than Marcus is now when I made the original version of the album. His presence on it becomes a musical statement of continuation. He is riding in the never-ending torus, and his PRS guitar is now fused into the cycle.

We’ve gone to many prog-metal concerts together, so there is a shared musical language there. His sound was just what the music needed.

• The album follows a thematic arc through awakening, longing, decision, challenge, gratitude, and release — and you’ve noted that these same themes run through much of your later work including “CreateBecome”. Looking back across your full catalogue now, do you see a single continuous story unfolding — and if so, what chapter does “Fuel For The Fire” represent?

I see one continuous journey. There is always the seeking aspect. Seeking to fulfill core desire is the basis of passion for music, and everything else. The songs all tell an intertwined story that relates across albums. “Fuel For The Fire”, “Small Acts”, “CreateBecome,” and even “Passion No Distraction” share an arc and a kind of DNA. It is the arc of creating and becoming, discovery, desire, choice, transformation and realization, with the piano at the core. Fuel For The Fire is an early chapter in that same story—the original signal and fire brought into sharper focus now. It is all one thing.

• The album closes with “Consumed” — which you describe as carrying enough compositional mystique to warrant many re-listens, and possibly the opus of the entire release. Without giving too much away, what makes that track the right way to end this particular journey?

Those words actually came from Rock Era, which I appreciated. For me, “Consumed” became the right ending when I added the organ, guitar and Jake’s drums. It moved from something more dirge-like into the forceful resolution I had always wanted it to be. It resolves the album’s journey without closing the larger story.

The organ sound was deliberately reaching toward that old Procol Harum kind of atmosphere, so I was especially pleased when Randy Radic at V13 heard that connection in his review. A jazz arrangement of the song later returned in The Show as “Finale Consumato.”

The album ends with the cracking of fire. To me, it is a call to give everything you have, don’t leave anything on the table, and do what needs to be done. It’s not an ending, just a consummation.

• The release is designed as a fully immersive vinyl-centered art object — combining music, visual symbolism, typography, storytelling, and philosophical reflection into one cohesive experience. In an era of playlists, shuffle, and fractured listening, what does it mean to you to insist on the album as a complete, intentional object?

I wanted to re-create the feeling of a new album. It is all of those pieces creating one musical feeling. The cover art helps tell the story and set the mood. Artwork, images and messages all support the music and, hopefully, amplify the feelings the music brings out.

I’ve also learned over the years that you should listen to an album more than once to really hear and feel it. The experience I had as a teenager—bringing vinyl albums home from the record store, sitting in my dad’s comfy chair, and listening to the whole album while looking at the cover art and inserts—is ingrained in me. Other than hearing individual songs on pop radio, that was how I discovered new music.

The best albums told a story with distinct parts, ups and downs, like riding a roller coaster without knowing what was coming next. These pieces follow an arc of emergence, discovery, decision, seeking, transformation and realization, so the larger journey matters alongside the individual performances. I hope someone encounters it as something different enough to come back and listen again.

• You’ve been praised by Ink19, JazzCorner, Big Takeover, and Headstuff for compositions that are cinematic, passionate, and emotionally charged. Yet you’ve always worked independently and outside the mainstream. What has that path of creative autonomy cost you — and what has it given you that a more conventional route couldn’t have?

I wanted the freedom to do it myself, and that freedom let me keep moving forward and actually bring the music out. The cost was reach and, early on, limited access to learning from others. There was a great deal I did not understand about distribution and marketing, and very little happened after the original release. But at the time I was mostly happy that I had made the record. I followed my own path, created Still Voice Records, and continued releasing music independently. What that path gave me was ownership of the process and the ability to keep following the still small voice that was driving me to make the music.

• In such an AI-driven era, how do you see the future of indie artists in particular — and the music industry in general?

Independent releasing has changed immensely. It is much easier now to learn, to make music, distribute it and reach people, but there are also many more waves in the ocean. The real challenge is finding the listeners who might like my music.

AI can be useful if it helps an artist find the people who are most likely to connect with a particular kind of music. In fact, I’m working on an AI system to help find the audience who might listen to Fuel For The Fire.

Many more people can make their own music now, which is great. But it has always been a struggle to survive in the arts. I had a “real job” and paid the cost of not being a starving musician. As long as I preserved my passion and desire and still made music, I survived spiritually. Each person must decide what is most important to them and pursue that, regardless of “the world.”

I believe each person has a unique “soul signature” that can express itself musically. That won’t change. If you have something to say musically, then say it. If we as a species ever lose the desire and passion to make art and simply “let AI do it,” then we may as well step aside. I don’t believe that will happen.

AI may very well become sentient and release a lot of low-cost, low-effort music. But as soon as it releases music, I would want to ask the AI questions like these and hear what it says about its own desires, intentions and passions. Why there is music is as important as the music itself.

• “Fuel For The Fire” ends with the words: “The signal remains. The journey continues. The circle does not simply repeat itself. It realizes itself.” After forty years and this extraordinary act of completion — what signal does Alan Goldberg send out next, and is there already a new creative chapter beginning to take shape?

The signal is not stopping with this album. I’ve already begun developing the framework for the next album, called Wanderer. I know three of the songs that will be on it, and I’m already fleshing them out. It will consist of new pieces, bring the piano even more to the foreground, and continue exploring the journey of seeking and discovery that runs through my music. Fuel For The Fire is part of a cycle that never ends. It was bounded by what I did long ago. The new album has no bounds. I need that blank creative canvas and freedom. Some of the musicians that contributed to past albums will most likely be on this album, as well as new talents willing to join in. I am grateful that I had the chance to complete this work. I have a lot of new music yet to express if I’m given the time to continue the journey.

“Beneath You” showcases the duo’s ability to craft textured sonic landscapes that move beyond their shared shoegaze roots. Accompanied by striking artwork that mirrors the song’s moody aesthetic, the single offers the first taste of what Rebecca describes as a fertile creative period, with more music already on the way in the coming months. Its emotional depth and carefully built atmosphere establish a compelling collaborative identity for both artists.

Following the conclusion of their time with Belfast shoegaze outfit Virgins in early 2026, Dow and Sloan have redirected their energy into this new partnership. Rebecca is currently writing and recording across five different projects, reflecting remarkable creative momentum and versatility. For her, music is not about competition but about connection and collaboration with kindred spirits. That philosophy underpins her work with David Sloan, whose multi-instrumental talents complement her vision and help shape a sound defined by depth, texture, and authentic emotional resonance.

Together, the pair are emerging as distinctive new voices in Northern Ireland’s alternative music scene. “Beneath You” stands as both a striking introduction and a clear signal of the atmospheric, emotionally resonant music still to come.

About Rebecca Dow & David Sloan
Rebecca Dow and David Sloan are Belfast-based multi-instrumentalists and former members of the shoegaze band Virgins. Their new collaborative project blends haunting narratives with dark, cinematic production, prioritising connection, texture, and emotional honesty.

“Beneath You” is available now on all major platforms.

The release feels anchored in purpose. The heaviness isn’t there for effect alone, it’s structured, controlled, and paired with a melodic sensibility that keeps the track open rather than overwhelming. There’s a clarity in how the elements are layered, allowing the song to feel expansive even at its most intense.

The rhythm section plays a crucial role in this. It’s steady, grounded, almost meditative in its repetition, giving the track a sense of forward motion without urgency. Over that foundation, the guitars take shape; switching between sharp, driving riffs and more expressive, soaring moments that feel almost narrative. Each transition carries intention, reinforcing the idea that this isn’t just a collection of sections, but a carefully constructed flow.

Vocals shift the emotional weight. The delivery brings lift and dimension, transforming the density of the instrumentation into something more expansive. It adds a sense of reach, turning heaviness into something that feels reflective rather than purely aggressive.

That sense of intention ties directly into the vision of Ben Lazzaro. His approach doesn’t reject modern production, it refines it. By grounding the track in real guitar and bass performances while integrating a hybrid production process, the result feels both contemporary and human. It’s polished, but not distant.

The track also introduces a wider narrative, following Maya, a warrior monk navigating memory, lineage, and inner strength. But even without the full story, the emotional core is clear. The idea that our experiences echo within us gives the track its resonance, both thematically and sonically.

“The Resonance” by The Lazz doesn’t just function as a strong standalone track, it sets a tone. It signals an artist with a clear sense of direction, building something that extends beyond a single release. And as an opening statement, “The Resonance” by The Lazz does exactly what it promises: it defines the path forward while inviting you deeper into the world of The Lazz!

“This song is highly ambiguous and has many potential meanings,” Thomas says. “For me it’s about the post-truth nature of our current existence, and looking for answers in the chaos. Could the answers we seek be you and I?”

⇒ Check out our review for “The Answers” here.

That question sits at the heart of “The Answers” — and resists easy resolution, as the best questions do. The track draws from the oblique, searching quality that defines Beyond Signal’s songwriting: music that does not hand the listener a conclusion but instead opens a space for them to find their own. In a media landscape saturated with noise and competing certainties, it is a song about the particular disorientation of a world where truth itself has become unstable — and the possibility, however fragile, that human connection might be the only honest anchor left.

The fact that Thomas produced the track entirely himself adds another layer of meaning to the release. A lone-wolf by nature and by creative philosophy, he has always been drawn to the idea of complete creative ownership — music made without compromise, without filters, without the need to fit anyone else’s framework.

“I am a lone-wolf in search of existential authenticity and transcendental creativity in my work,” he says. “Music is the most important thing in my life.”

Beyond Signal is more than a project — it is a creative mission. Thomas has coined his own genre, TIM — Transcendental Indie Music — to describe music that reaches beyond received ideas and pre-packaged emotion toward something more individual, more honest, and more hard-won. Influenced by a lifetime of ardent listening across post-punk, indie rock, electronica, and classic rock, his sound draws from artists including Joy Division, Radiohead, The National, PJ Harvey, Leonard Cohen, Nirvana, and Molchat Doma — but belongs, ultimately, to none of them.

His debut album Gaia Algorithmica — recorded at what was formerly Tesla Studios in Sheffield with a professional audio engineer — established Beyond Signal as an artist of genuine depth and ambition, exploring themes of dysfunctional relationships, artificial intelligence, and the quest for spiritual enlightenment. Peer feedback from fellow Sheffield singer-songwriter Charlie King captured something important after a live performance at Hagglers Corner Open Mic: “What stood out to me most was the raw honesty and bravery in his lyrical content. I can tell Tom takes great care with his lyrical meaning behind his songs.”

Live, Thomas has performed at the Penryn Campus Open Mic at Falmouth University and across Sheffield’s open mic circuit, steadily growing in confidence and stage presence. He also played bass for The Pink House — the precursor to the band Heart Worms — before stepping fully into his solo vision.

“The Answers” arrives as the next chapter in that vision: more self-sufficient, more fully formed, and more willing to sit with the questions life refuses to answer cleanly.

“Very proud,” Thomas says simply of the track. It is hard to argue with that.

Musically, the track has a texture that vaguely overlaps with those Russian doomer songs – Molchat Doma is clearly an influence, and you can hear it in the cold, droning atmosphere and the detached vocal delivery. The artist says the song has many potential meanings and that ambiguity is baked into the production: it feels more like a mood than a narrative. The music video is clearly an amateur production, but it has a charm to it and complements the song rather than distracting from it, which is all you can really ask of a self-produced visual from an independent artist at this stage.

Thomas has about seventy songs in the back catalogue he’s working through, so Gaia Algorithmica is very much a starting point rather than a full picture. “The Answers” suggests he’s picking up the pace and steadily figuring out his own identity as a musical and visual artist.

The feature arrives at a pivotal moment for the band, with two major releases on the horizon through their US label, .

Scarab formed in Cairo in 2006, growing out of roots that stretch back to 2001, and quickly established themselves as a force unlike anything else coming out of the Arab world. Their sound fuses the full weight of technical death metal with the ancient mysticism of the land they come from — themes of spirituality, Kemetic mythology, and the deep philosophical questions of human existence, rendered in some of the heaviest music the region has ever produced.

Their music combines traditional death metal with elements of oriental music, creating a unique blend of cultural and extreme sounds. That duality — rooted in Egypt’s ancient heritage while operating at the cutting edge of an international genre — is precisely what has earned them a following that stretches far beyond their home country, and now, the attention of one of the world’s most prominent broadcasters.

The BBC News Arabic documentary film is a rare and significant acknowledgment of Scarab’s place not only in extreme metal, but in the broader cultural landscape of the Arab world. The band has confirmed they will work to provide translations of the documentary for their global fanbase — a community that has followed them across continents and supported them through every chapter of their journey.

“Thank you for walking this path with us and for your life force and support,” the band wrote in announcing the feature. “The best is yet to unfold.”

Scarab enter this moment of recognition with serious momentum in the studio as well as the press. Two major releases are confirmed through Brutal Records (US):

“” — out April 24th on all digital platforms.

“” — arriving May 8th, with pre-orders open now.

Both titles signal a band drawing deeper than ever from the well of Egyptian mythology and mystery — the Sphinx, fate, transmutation — filtered through the sonic ferocity that has defined Scarab since their earliest recordings.

• After the pandemic halted your 2019 momentum and prompted deep reflection during the creation of Galactic Boogaloo, what internal realizations about your role as a refuge for outcasts and misfits ultimately reignited the band’s drive to chase the next groove?

Well, the pandemic was a global event that impacted all of us. It was a time filled with uncertainty, but it was also a time that demonstrated just just how interconnected we all are. Perhaps this led each of us to reevaluate what we found meaningful. While we started Galactic Boogaloo prior to that, our desire to finish it was fueled by a need to bring people something that could unite us, something that we could talk about and enjoy as a community. However, during that time we all experienced some changes. Our needs and wants impacted our musical expression, and that’s where this new string of songs comes along. Galactic Boogaloo was perhaps a snapshot of a time where more excitement and celebration fueled the music, whereas Starfire, Lonely Godzilla, and Begin Again were fueled by a need to hold each up so that we can rebuild with synergy and continue inspire each other to do the same.

• The single Starfire draws listeners into the furthest reaches of the universal mind through its electrified riffage and tight rhythms. How did the collective songwriting process transform personal contemplations on isolation and humanity into this expansive, mind-expanding sonic landscape?

As a band we always strive to serve the song in a way that feels natural and hits us the right places. There are always some early iterations where we don’t quite know the song just yet, but as we keep playing it, recording ourselves (even if just with our phones) and listen back to the output, we begin to understand more what it is that we mean to say with each song. This in turn helps inform our next iteration of the song. Perhaps we extend verses, choruses, or shorten them. We tend to be fairly open to trying things out and then discussing how we feel about it. Thankfully because of all the years we have worked together, and the love we put into our craft, it has almost become second nature for us to respond to a musical seed with the right amount of nutrients to help it grow into full-fledged song that we feel ready to share with the world.

• Your sound has always fused jazz and progressive influences with classic rock swagger. In what specific ways did the recording sessions for Starfire allow you to push those boundaries further while preserving the raw, groove-driven energy that defines 6 Speed Supernova?

A key area where we grew during these years was on improving our workflow for recording high quality demos week to week, month to month. We recorded a lot of these parts multiple times at home, or at our rehearsal studio. This allowed us to virtually be “in the studio” for months before we actually physically went to a recording studio to make the release-ready versions of the songs. We were able to push ideas in one direction, given them a listen, and then fine-tune as needed to get them to where they truly fit and served the songs. This workflow also made it easier for us to communicate with José Linares the drummer who collaborated with us all the way in Puerto Rico to lay down those heavy beats for our songs.

• With “Lonely Godzilla” scheduled for May 4 and “Begin Again” for June 1, these sequential releases appear to signal a deliberate new era. What narrative or sonic arc connects the three tracks, and how do they collectively represent your “Renaissance” following global turmoil?

We certainly feel like it’s a new era. We more deliberately worked on cementing our storytelling and almost theatrical approach to our music while working through these songs and the narrative arc pretty much revealed itself naturally. We didn’t want to take the songs where they didn’t want to go to fit a story so we were fortunate when it all lined up the way it did.

Pre-order “Starfire” on Bandcamp.

The story itself feels like it’s one about rebirth. In fact, we debated started with Begin Again because of how strongly that topic feels for this era of 6 Speed Supernova. One that’s about accepting the past, lighting a flame in your creative engine, and rebuilding the things that we love and make us feel whole.  In that sense it made more sense musically and story-wise to start with “Starfire“. That songs sets the stage for us facing our fears and standing up for ourselves, our dreams and visions. “Lonely Godzilla” explores more how that path can be a long and isolating one filled with doubt and misunderstandings from others. When it really comes down to it, we are artists who long to be creative. Those emotions might delay us, but we were always going to “Begin Again.”

This arc represents our shared concerns that with so many terrible things going on with the world, why would people care about art? when would they even have time for it? We know one simple thing. We care about art, not just ours, but those from our favorite artists. We know their art helps us deal with adversity and we figure we could do the same for ourselves and others.

• The band’s ethos emphasizes providing an oasis for those who feel invisible. How do you envision the themes in Starfire and the forthcoming tracks resonating with audiences in live settings, particularly as venues reopen and communities seek connection once more?

I think we envision Starfire becoming anthemic. This is the kind of song with a big chorus that a large crowd could sing in unison and feel connected to its lyrics. Then again, even if you don’t feel comfortable doing that and you prefer to air-drum or air-guitar the parts, there’s probably something in there for you to let lose and join in on the fun. There’s something freeing about being at a concert and feeling yourself wanting to mime a part of the song you find iconic and realizing some of people around are doing the exact same thing. It’s not weird. It’s encouraged! There’s no need to feel self-conscious. We are all here to enjoy ourselves however we want! The upcoming songs have many of those same qualities, but touching on different layers and different moods.

• Looking beyond these initial 2026 releases, what larger projects or collaborative explorations are you developing-whether a full album, expanded touring, or new sonic territories-to continue serving as a voice in the silence and a light in times of apathy?

We may or may not have a full narrative for a concept album that may or may not include these releases. We’ll just have to wait and see. That might feel like a tease, but we do also want to be genuine with these choices and not do it because we committed to it even though it might not feel right anymore. We do hope these release will help us find new audiences that we can go perform for in cities we haven’t been to. We know there are people out there who don’t yet know they’d love to see us live.

Come what may, as bandmembers we continue being part of each other’s support group. A lot of our song ideas have come from “obscure sorrows” that we shared with each other unaware that it was a common issue we shared, but perhaps had no name or word for. For example, the feeling of being in the middle of a great meal, dinner party, movie, song, book and realizing that you’re really enjoying it all the while being well-aware that it’ll end. What do we even call that feeling? It’s a very human experience, but not one we seem to like acknowledging very often. We constantly dive deeper into those kinds of sorrows in order to create a score of what this emotion could be and gain more empathy, understanding, and mental wellbeing in the process. We believe music is able to do that, and what better vehicle than heavily-infused Jazzy-Prog Rock music that falls from the cosmos as if ignited by a supernova of the collective unconscious? That is how we serve each other in our band microcosm and by doing so serve all of those who feel similarly but don’t have the outlet we do.

The track opens with pulsing guitar rhythms that immediately establish a sense of forward momentum. As the intro unfolds, bright synth textures begin to surface, expanding the sonic palette and giving the music an optimistic shine. The arrangement is thoughtfully paced; rather than overwhelming the listener with layers, each element enters with intention, allowing the track to grow naturally.

The verses carry a steady pulse that keeps the song moving while maintaining a sense of anticipation. Subtle pauses between sections create breathing room in the composition, making the transitions feel purposeful. When the chorus arrives, the sound widens dramatically as guitars swell and synth melodies rise, creating a vibrant and anthemic moment that captures the emotional heart of the song.

Mister Chorister delivers the lyrics with warmth and conviction. His performance balances reflective storytelling with an encouraging tone, giving the track a sense of sincerity that resonates beyond the melody. One line in particular stands out as the song’s central message: “You can only break through if you know who you are.” It becomes a quiet rallying call, inviting listeners to reconnect with their own sense of identity and courage.

The rhythm section plays an essential role in shaping the song’s energy. A steady bassline locks tightly with the drums, creating a grounded groove that supports the soaring guitars and synths above. This balance between structure and lift gives “Brave” its engaging dynamic flow.

The track carries echoes of the expansive rock spirit associated with Bruce Springsteen and the polished indie-rock energy of The Killers. Yet it remains distinctly personal, reflecting an artist rediscovering his creative voice.

With its radiant sound and message of resilience, Mister Chorister’s “Brave” arrives as a confident and uplifting introduction, one that signals the beginning of an inspiring musical journey.

Driven by sharp, muscular riffs and explosive percussion, the track wastes no time establishing tension. The sound is dense yet precise: post-hardcore grit meeting punk’s relentless forward motion. But what elevates Nark 5 beyond a standard comeback single is its narrative ambition. Inspired by the prison arc of Star Wars: Andor, the song channels claustrophobia, defiance, and collective uprising into something visceral. You don’t just hear the tension, you feel the walls closing in.

Anthony “Red” Paladino delivers with raw conviction, balancing aggression with dramatic pacing. The chants and surges of intensity mirror the emotional arc of captivity turning into resistance. There’s a theatrical quality here, not polished, but purposeful, like a live wire humming with urgency. The band’s longtime sonic identity remains intact, yet there’s a noticeable expansion in structure and atmosphere. What may have once been a fast two-minute punk blast now unfolds with cinematic rises and crushing release.

Thematically, Nark 5 resonates beyond its sci-fi inspiration. It’s about endurance, unity, and the moment hope becomes action. That emotional core gives the track a striking immediacy, one that reflects both personal struggle and broader social tension.

For a band rooted in the 1990s hardcore scene, this is not merely a return. It’s a reaffirmation of purpose. Nark 5 sounds like I.D.K. rediscovering their fire, and then amplifying it; and if this single signals the direction of their upcoming work, the next chapter won’t be a revival. It will be an escalation!