Every Time I Die

spectrasonic.com presents

Every Time I Die

Knocked Loose, Hollow Earth

Friday, October 6, 2017

Doors: 6:30 pm / Show: 7:00 pm

Bronson Centre Theatre

Ottawa, ON

each section is general admission within that section only.


tickets also available at Vertigo Records and both Compact Music locations

lineup, date, venue, times and ticket price subject to change without notice.



Every Time I Die
Every Time I Die
“The whole winter, the temperature was in the low teens. Utterly freezing,” says Every Time I Die’s frontman Keith Buckley regarding the months that yielded their eighth full-length album. Such is the price you pay for living in Buffalo, NY. Granted, the weather seems like a rather mundane topic for the normally acerbic and irreverent vocalist, but even the most acid-tongued hardcore band must have their sociable side, right? But Buckley and his cohorts Jordan Buckley (guitar), Andy Williams (guitar), Daniel Davison (drums), and Steve Micciche (bass) aren’t so hard up for pathos at this point that they’re grumbling about the temperature outside. If anything, Low Teens is their most poignant and impassioned album in a career full of sardonic illuminations and pit-inciting fervor.

The icy backdrop of Buffalo underscores a winter of dramatic change. Most notably, the band was on tour in Toronto in December when Keith received a phone call that his wife was in the hospital with a life-threatening pregnancy complication. It was a harrowing night as Buckley left the tour and raced home to overwhelming uncertainty. “I was facing death, not in a symbolic sort of ‘cyclical change’ metaphor but literally,” says Buckley with his token literary-minded self-awareness. “If I lost my wife, I would have to raise my daughter for her. If I lost my daughter, my wife and I would be forced to try and cope. But if I lost them both my life would end and I would see to it. Once I knew that in my heart it became the only certainty I had, and that was a relief.” Both wife and daughter survived the ordeal, but the moment of crisis had a lasting impact on Buckley and an inevitable role in shaping the lyrical scope of Low Teens. “It was abject helplessness, and that entirely new feeling opened up a lot of questions about place and purpose. I honestly don't think that's too far off from the lyrical content of our other songs but anyone that saw the news knows the source this time. They know that this is a response to a very specific event and not just a dude shoehorning an existential crisis into his routine for some interesting imagery.” When Buckley yells “untimely ripped into this world, I was born again as a girl” in the searing ring-the-alarm track “Petal”, there is no metaphor, no thinly veiled allegory. The birth of his daughter literally saved his life.

Lyrical motifs aside, other big changes were afoot during that Buffalo winter. From a sonic standpoint, the most crucial development was writing with new drummer Daniel Davison. Fans of Every Time I Die’s caustic combination of savage metallic hardcore and pentatonic riff-laden classic rock will not be disappointed by Low Teens’ thrash attacks and Southern-boogie breakdowns. But Davison’s heft, dexterity, and creativity pushed the band forward. “Daniel joined and not only further unlocked Andy and Jordan and Steve's potential but put such a unique force behind the band's dynamic,” Buckley says of his new bandmate. “I know that everything that has happened is necessary for what is presently happening but, man, to think about what the band might have been like if we had him sooner—private jets, shows on the damn moon.” You can hear this new energy on “Glitches”, which blazes with the kind of raw basement hardcore that originally catalyzed the group, but rages with a pinpoint accuracy beyond any meager hardcore band’s reach. “C++” marries desert rock croons, Unbroken’s metallic riffage, and a pile-driving chorus into a relentless hook-laden anthem. “The Coin Has A Say” operates as an extremity test, with every gear-shift somehow pushing the band into inexplicably heavier territories. Yes, Every Time I Die has always juggled hardcore urgency, metal brutalism, and rock melodies, but never has it felt this instinctive or this vicious.
Low Teens’ razor-sharp sound and auditory barbarism was also abetted by engineer and producer Will Putney (Acacia Strain, Body Count, Exhumed). Every Time I Die have always opted to avoid complacency and mix things up with the recording process, but Putney proved to be an even more valuable component to the album than expected. “We just like change,” says Buckley. “Will had a hunger we found exciting. He was willing to do whatever it took to make this record which included coming to Buffalo and working in a strange studio. If he was willing to step out of his comfort zone, so were we. And I definitely don't mean to disparage any other producer we've had but I have never in my life heard so many incredible ideas for an Every Time I Die record come from one man.” And indeed, Putney adeptly captured the band’s dichotomic ability to juggle melody and malice. Low Teens’ guest vocalists further demonstrate these polarized extremes, with formidable bellower Tim Singer (Deadguy, Kiss It Goodbye, No Escape) roaring alongside Buckley on opening track “Fear and Trembling” and longtime friend Brendan Urie (Panic! at the Disco) providing a melodic counterpoint on “It Remembers”.
Change may be a welcome element to Every Time I Die’s creative process when it comes to studio personnel, but family crises and rotating band members can be debilitating developments. The pressure drop that yielded Low Teens could have crippled a lesser band, but Every Time I Die weathered the winter to deliver their strongest offering to date because of, not in spite of, these hardships and roadblocks.
Knocked Loose
Knocked Loose
Oldham County Hardcore.
Hollow Earth
Hollow Earth
Hollow Earth was a thought between members Mike Moynihan (Guitar) Steve Muczynski (Vocals) and Aaron Goodrich (Drums) during their stint of touring with legendary hardcore band Shai Hulud during November 2010. One year later, almost to the date, the three friends decided to take that thought more seriously. Rearranging their lives so they would be in the same location in Michigan, the members moved in together and put things in motion to became a real band. Their objective with Hollow Earth was to write sincere music and begin touring as much as possible. Quickly recruiting Dave Giandiletti (Guitar) and Jake Hicks (Bass) to complete the line up they wrote a six song EP entitled We Are Not Humanity within the two and half months of their inception and headed off to record at Getaway Group in Massachusetts with Jay Maas (Defeater, Verse, Shipwreck).

On We Are Not Humanity Hollow Earth draw on the influence of legendary bands like Turmoil and Buried Alive, capturing the energy and anger of hardcore that has been lost on so many new bands. Hollow Earth's lyrics are dark with thought provoking premonitions that paint a picture of impending doom that threatens the human existence. Riding into our demise, there's no turning back, the decimation of our world is eminent and Hollow Earth is the perfect soundtrack to play us out. We Are Not Humanity will be released on April 17th, 2012 through Panic Records on CD, Vinyl and Digital formats.
Download 2 songs from our We Are Not Humanity:
Below are the lyrics for the entire record, enjoy.
Behold the rise of man supreme. Discard the ashes of prehistory. We are the climax of all creation, born to fulfill our destiny. Blessed purveyors of a single culture ruthlessly marching to the beat of a drum. The culmination, the sole exemption; as masters we'll reign at the helm of the world.

Progressive destruction. Human endeavors to maintain control. Relentless expansion. God given rite to beseech the role as wielders of power. We are the tillers of this soil. Cast in stone and iron our weapons are forged with guilty hands. At war with the world. Eradication of all obstacles with total disregard for life. We'll beset the living world. In the name of salvation, we accept a life of toil. We'll beset the living world. For the world belongs to man and we were destined to conquer and rule. Metal illness, crime, poverty and rape, depression and madness, insanity; mere hindrances of a superior culture, a small price to pay for the advancement and progress of humanity. Sing salvation on mountains high. Rejoice in glory, be guided by light. Sing salvation on mountains high. Rejoice in the glory, be guided by light. Grasping tight to ideas of reaching paradise. We'll hope and pray for rest in the hereafter.

Bestowed knowledge upon conception. Kings and queens of inherited crowns with a birthright to possess all that is seen. Gaze upon our kingdoms of foolishly coveted land. And with arrogance we claim this as our own. But in the last light of day as the sky is painted black, the stillness is disquieting. In the distance a solemn voice, gently sings an ambient song; a soothing melody to keep us hopeful and withdrawn. Yet something seems terribly wrong. We've been enraptured by this siren song. From the moments of our infancy we've been humming along. This is the voice of mother culture; her nurturing, incessant plea. An endless call for the preservation of a failing dynasty. (Preservation) the cunning voice of mother culture, (misleading) misleading us from the understanding that we are captors as we are captives, of the very world we've heedlessly enslaved. Incite knowledge by means of progression. Kings and queens of forsaken crowns with a willingness to embrace all that is seen. Piece by piece we'll dismantle our kingdoms and replenish the salt of the earth. And with humility relinquish our throne. Awareness will thrive as the veil is torn away and the bars of the cage become visible. Our fallacies will writhe as the veil is torn away and the bars of the cage become visible. Our desire to escape is now engaged, as the bars of the cage become...

What man built up the wind and rain tore down and the fields he cleared the jungle fought to reclaim. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree if all of mankind perished utterly. There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground. There will come soft rains and swallows circling with shimmering sound. And wild plum trees in tremulous white, immersed in the chorus of singing at night. There will come soft rains and not one will know of the war, not one. And Spring herself when she woke at dawn, would scarcely know that we were gone.

We are the parasitic blight of the world, an overpopulated horde of competitors in competition for the scarcely limited resources of the earth. Standing armies with weapons in hand in pursuit of imperial wealth. Unknowingly we forge our path to cultural collapse. With valor and confidence, we spread our wings and step off the edge. And in the freedom of the air we claim victory despite the warning signs of vital disrepair. We'll defy gravity and remain in flight, and with godlike impunity we cast our shadow unflinchingly upon our desire to thrive. But after centuries of perpetual dissension, the ending is now in sight. Collapsing, as we plummet to our demise. Failing, closing the gap between the dirt and the ash. Crumbling, as we deliver our final prayers. Descending upon a bed of nails in a fiery hell. For the cinders are now blazing red beneath the cauldron of our culture. For ten thousand years this fire has scorched the earth. No gods or prophets to lift this curse. So now here we are at the crux in the wake of such loss. We stand on the precipice of human extinction. We stand on the precipice of... Ten thousand years in dissent, propagated by a thirst for dominance. Break the chains and relent or we shall perish by the rite of the damned.

We once belonged to the world. Man lived at mercy with the earth for three million years. We once belonged to the world. In that belonging man survived for centuries upon centuries. Beneath the banner of civilization, upon foundations of tangible wealth we've carved out our eyes and are leading the blind astray; from the very means by which we've survived for centuries upon centuries of time. Will there be hope for man in the ashes of all we've destroyed? And so I ask, will there be hope for man? Before the fire of life consumes mankind and we're left to be reclaimed. We once belonged to the world. Time has come to abandon the path of salvation. Cast away all fear of sin and corruption, vice and wickedness. Praise not gods, martyrs, mortals, or idols for the giver of life exists before our very eyes and she's begging for mercy. We are not one, but many. And when the many of us have gathered you'll know the final hour has come. We are the ones, the final hour is at hand. Behold the fall of man supreme. Restore the pillars of prehistory. Verily I say unto you... Again and again and again: we are not humanity. We are not humanity, we were not born to reign supreme. We are not humanity, we are a single culture of misguided beliefs. We are not humanity, we were not born to reign supreme. We hold the Earth in captivity, and as its captors it's our choice to set it free. We are not humanity.
Venue Information:
Bronson Centre Theatre
211 Bronson Avenue
Ottawa, ON, K1R 6H4