RARELY GIVEN ANSWERS
(Because the commonly asked questions induce narcolepsy)Photo by Linda McDermott
Here at Pyroclast HQ (not dissimilar to that fancy volcano you may have seen on Tracy Island during that famous “Thunderbirds” documentary from the ’70s), we’re often asked questions such as “How did the band get together?” and “How did you come up with your name?” but we’ve decided to ignore those and focus on the deeper, more profound questions.
What does your name mean?
It’s what happens when a volcano explodes and takes your eardrums with it. Not a cooking term. Not a Pokémon. Not a haemorrhoid cream.
Is your music on Spotify?
Once we record it. Yes. We enjoy contributing to Daniel Ek’s quest to buy a fourth yacht while watching the streams go up by tens of thousands until we eventually earn enough to buy a Caramac.
Are you on social media?
Yes, because it’s the law. We allow ourselves to be judged by strangers while shouting into the void like everyone else.
What’s the best way to support the band?
Buy our CDs. Buy our merch. Come to gigs. Buy our CDs and merch while at our gigs. Start an underground cult based around our lyrics. We’re flexible.
Okay, so, where can I buy your music?
There’s store on this very website. If you can’t find it, though, yell “PYROCLAST” into the night and the shadow people will sort you out with their wares.
Is there a deeper meaning to your songs?
Yes. But if we tell you, the illusion collapses and we’d likely all be driven out of town or, at the very least, fired from our real jobs.
Will you play my town?
We typically don’t take requests for cover versions, but if you hum it, we’ll see what we can do. What’s the tempo?
Are you available for weddings?
We’re all actually spoken for, but thanks for asking. I’ve just been told “ask how much and if they have a beard”, so you never know.
What genre is Pyroclast?
The kind your mum pretends not to like but secretly listens to in the car. Somewhere between metal, fire, regret, and that noise your boiler makes when it’s about to go.
Do you have plans for a full run of vinyl albums rather than on-demand?
Absolutely, we do. Because we, too, enjoy luxury objects that cost too much, degrade over time, and weigh slightly more than a child’s soul. Like the Tesla Cybertruck.
Who drew your logo, and why does it look like that?
It wasn’t drawn; it was photographed during a dream caused by the flight of a pomegranate around an immolated bee a second before awakening. We still own the copyright, though.
Is your music safe for my children?
It depends. Have they already seen things?
Do you have a rider?
This could go one of two ways, really, so we’ll hedge our bets and answer both. We do have a Rider, but he’s currently recovering from a severe spinal injury. As for the other kind of rider, yes, we do. We typically request a pile of smashed Mariah Carey CDs, a fog machine filled with the scent of a thousand vanilla Magic Trees, and the knowledge of the forgotten Elder gods. So far, only one person has delivered. We made him our Rider.
Why are so many songs about mental health, trauma, or societal breakdown?
Because all the songs about shagging, getting drunk, devil worship, and worshipping the devil while drunkenly shagging had already been written by other bands. We flipped a coin: heads… we write about how shit the world is, and, tails… we ask Beyoncé’s writing team to collaborate. It landed on tails. We kept flipping.
You say that, but you should think about writing songs like Single Ladies. It had more than 6 million streams, you know!
Uh huh. We tried. Honest. But ours ended up being about the crushing weight of loneliness, the illusion of autonomy under capitalism, and a spectral hand that never actually puts a ring on anything because it’s trapped in a mirror dimension. So we pivoted.