It might seem odd for a band from the UK to call themselves Empire State Bastard, but according to vocalist Simon Neil, it’s all about energy. “New York City inspired the very essence of this band, and I think the energy of New York suits us—we’re kind of eccentric, nonstop, 24-hour, a little bit of everything.” Musically, Empire State Bastard was born in the back of Biffy Clyro’s tour bus. Both Neil and guitarist Mike Vennart play in the Scottish alt-metal band (Neil also handles vocals) and would spend the drives between cities playing each other some of their heaviest and most avant-garde favorites. Mr. Bungle and Cardiacs took turns with Converge and the Melvins, forming a unified sensibility. “We’ve known each other for over two decades now, so I remember really trying to force Cardiacs and Mr. Bungle on Simon back in those days,” Vennart tells Apple Music. “Then it became, ‘This is the freakiest thing I’ve got—show me yours.’” The ultimate irony is that Empire State Bastard managed to coax Mr. Bungle’s drummer—and former Slayer legend—Dave Lombardo into their band. (“It’s almost too much for me to handle,” Vennart says.) Along with bassist Naomi Macleod (Bitch Falcon), they combine modern sociopolitical themes with ’90s AmRep heaviness and unusual time signatures. “We both look for similar things in music,” Neil says. “We like things to be pushed to the very edge and the very limit.” Below, the duo discuss each track. “Harvest” Neil: “It’s about identity, especially during the lockdown. It's tough these days to know exactly what you think because everything's pushed towards you. Everything's telling you what to think, how to look, what to feel about things. You have very little time to consider things yourself. This song is about trying to take that time to process things rather than just following your nose down the internet or down social media and think that's the way you need to live your life.” “Blusher” Vennart: “It's one of the only moments on the record where I'm threatening to give myself carpal tunnel. There's some serious alternate picking, and you have to really dig in to get it tight, but it feels really good. The pain feels so good, man.” Neil: “Lyrically, it’s about not being afraid to feel a bit embarrassed about shit. Not feeling afraid to say, ‘Oh, I really got that wrong.’ Just being aware that mistakes are all right. Unfortunately, mistakes live online forever, but that’s a dangerous thing to view ourselves with because we spend our whole lives walking in a minefield.” “Moi?” Vennart: “This is definitely one of a couple of Melvins-esque moments on this record. If it wasn't for Simon's input, we could probably get done for plagiarism on this one.” Neil: “I feel like this song could only really exist in this band. I know Mike's saying that it sounds a bit like the Melvins, but to me it feels like there's an awakening in the melodies and the way it pushes and pulls. Lyrically, it’s the classic ‘Me, my fault?’ There’s a lot of people that don’t take accountability these days, and it seems like you get rewarded for denying reality.” “Tired, Aye?” Neil: “This is one of the first songs that Mike presented for the record. Over the years, I’ve always wanted to do a duet with just my vocal and a drum set. When you’ve got Dave Lombardo on your album, that’s when you do it. And the composition of the song was so complex that it felt like I had enough dimensions to justify it having no guitars. So that was a little bit of a headbutt because Mike’s guitar work on the original version is absolutely superb. And people will hear that at some point.” “Sons and Daughters” Vennart: “There's moments in this where we get to use the guitar as a sort of sound bath, so it’s just me and Naomi droning on a couple of chords. It's the first point in the record where you really get to meditate for a moment. But again, some of the choppy riffs are pure Osbourne-ian. And then Simon just took it to a completely different place.” Neil: “For me, this song just felt like a monolith rolling through the desert. It made me think of the front cover of Dopesmoker by Sleep. It’s about how cheap our governments see human life, how quickly we go to war for things, how quickly things get out of proportion. There’re no victors in any wars. The romance we see in all these war movies is just not reality.” “Stutter” Vennart: “Throughout all of this stuff, the idea subconsciously was to try and bend metal into shapes that I had not heard before. The meter of the opening riff is quite odd, so it's geometrically a bit wonky and lopsided. And then at the end, the song does something that I don't think I've heard before, where you've got the guitar and bass just sort of droning together for like eight bars while Dave Lombardo is playing within an inch of his life as fast as he can. It’s like tantric metal or something.” “Palms of Hands” Neil: “Lyrically, it was written during the time when we were all isolated. I just kept picturing the thought of going to a sex party after the pandemic, when everyone’s lost their mind. No one knows how to conduct themselves, so it’s basically a comedy of errors.” Vennart: “There’re definitely points in this song that are some of the most trad thrash moments of the whole record, where just for a few bars here and there, you really feel like you’re actually in Slayer. It’s like levitating.” “Dusty” Neil: “This, to me, is probably one of the most avant-garde songs on the record. It sounds like something a band like Daughters would do. It took me a while to figure out what to do vocally on this song because it’s got a weird time signature, 11/8, which Mike didn’t tell us. It’s called ‘Dusty’ because I’ve watched a few things about the Dust Bowl over the last few years, and it really struck me that it’s a similar thing to what people are going through in Europe at the moment, where people are having to move because the climate is making it uninhabitable.” “Sold!” Neil: “I think we all had this weird connection with spending money during the pandemic because it was one of the only things we were in control of. Some people were still working and had money, some people weren’t working and didn’t have any money, but commerce was the one thing that we were all drawn towards. I found myself spending money on things that aren’t important, thinking, ‘Life will be better once I buy this thing.’ But these are just stories we tell ourselves.” Vennart: “It’s hard to keep everyone on track because it’s got a couple of weird time-signature tricks. It's got a bit of a surf-rock moment, and it's got some stabs that are really hard to play live. But I love it. It’s one of the more hatstand, crazy-ass, gonzo moments on the record.” “The Looming” Neil: “As soon as I heard this, I knew it was going to close the record. Even before I'd done any vocals, there was a power, there was a progressiveness, there was an ecstasy to this song that is hard to achieve in an oppressively heavy piece of music. I think the breakthrough in this song was the keyboards—those little bits of nonsensical, celestial-type sounds are keeping the listener bubbling up on top of the song, almost like you’re a swan or a duck sat on the surface, and underneath everything’s going crazy. Lyrically, it’s about the end of the world.”