The almighty Die Young are joining us today for a special premiere of their new single: a cover of “Clutches”, originally by NYC crust legends Nausea. It’s the first public signal of a larger batch of stuff recorded this fall, currently being finalized for a series of releases planned across 2026 in both the US and Europe.
The choice of song is deliberate, but not complicated. As Daniel Austin puts it plainly, “the number one reason we covered this song is that it’s just a fun song.” He points to its construction rather than its reputation: a drum line that “just rides the toms for the whole song,” three repeating riffs, nothing ornamental. “There is genius in its simplicity,” he says. “To me there’s always been something catchy and magical to it because of that. It just jams.”
Die Young’s version shifts the balance without rewriting the core. They slowed the song slightly, easing off what Austin calls “the urgent crust punk fury of the original” and leaning instead into “a little 90s-inspired chunkiness.” The aim wasn’t to modernize it, but to reframe it in a way that fits how the band sounds and moves now.
Meaning mattered just as much as feel. Austin is careful not to assign intent to Nausea, but his reading of “Clutches” has stayed consistent since he first heard it. “The way I interpret it is that it’s a song against theocracy and totalitarianism, about making a secular and reasonable society where people determine their own destiny.”
He traces that directly back to why Die Young existed in the first place. “Wanting to sing against the merging of church and state—and the religious lunacy that accompanies theocracy—was THE reason I started writing lyrics for Die Young back in 2002.” He doesn’t hedge the personal angle: “It’s my favorite Nausea song.”
The recording also brings in Brooke Brown on additional vocals. Brown plays bass in Realms of Death, a band closely connected to Die Young’s circle. Austin calls them family and makes a point to underline that this contribution wasn’t a guest spot for optics, but a natural extension of shared history and overlap.
This single sits alongside a broader body of work that continues a shift Austin began on the last EP (“Wanted to Believe”).
That record marked a move away from writing strictly from his own point of view. “I started trying to write lyrics from different perspectives, not just my own, and even express ideas that don’t even reflect my own opinions.”
Personal experience still fed the songs, but more as raw material than destination. The intent was to blur the line between the intimate and the structural, allowing songs like (“Wanted to Believe”) or (“Until You Die”) to function on multiple levels: interpersonal damage on one hand, long-standing geopolitical trauma on the other.
The new stuff pushes further into uncomfortable territory. Rather than focusing only on victims or observers, some songs adopt the viewpoints of individuals or collective entities “who are inspired to commit atrocities.”
Austin is explicit about what interests him here: “the aspects of pure belief and idealism that are dangerous, that make someone feel entitled and justified in harming others—while believing it is for a just cause, even a divine one.” It’s not framed as provocation for its own sake, but as an attempt to understand how conviction curdles into permission.
That this band is still operating at all, let alone writing with this level of intent, is something Austin doesn’t romanticize. Die Young have been around long enough to see multiple versions of themselves, including a long break after 2009 and a return in 2013. What changed recently is logistics as much as mindset. “We finally found a mode that works for us at this point in our lives to write music and stay connected from afar,” he says, noting that he now lives in Virginia. The creative impulse came back once the structure made sense again.
“So long as I have the itch, I guess we’re gonna scratch it.”
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The scale is different now. They’re not chasing constant touring. They played around 15 shows this year, mostly in Texas and the Southeastern US, but Austin says nearly all of them felt worthwhile. There’s also been an unexpected demographic shift: younger kids showing up, curious rather than nostalgic. The response loop matters. “If people stop asking, we’d stop playing, and we’d probably stop writing too, but it’s all a big positive feedback loop lately.”
Time is the real constraint. Most members are in their forties, balancing families, jobs, and other bands. Austin and drummer Mike are also active in Will To Live, while Mike splits time with Spirit Adrift and Billy Milano’s MOD. Austin adds his own variable: a competitive powerlifting schedule. None of this is framed as sacrifice or heroics. “We’re probably maxing our free time out when you look at the bigger picture of our lives,” he says, “but we still have fun doing this, so until it’s not, we’ll be here doing our thing.”
Looking ahead, the first physical release tied to this new era will be a split 7” with Liberty & Justice, released via Immigrant Sun Records in the US and Contra Records in Europe. Each band contributes an original track, but the center of gravity is a collaborative cover of (“The Future”) by Leonard Cohen. Members of both bands play and sing on it. Austin describes it simply: it sounds like both bands occupying the same space.
Beyond that, the new songs will be collected as an EP titled (“Universal Sin”), released on CD by the band themselves, with a cassette edition via Yetzer Hara Records in the US. The title track features Mike Score from All Out War. Austin doesn’t soften his assessment: it’s the most vicious material Die Young have recorded. What that translates to live remains open-ended. Europe and the US West Coast are possibilities, not promises.
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Visually, “Clutches” is paired with artwork by Christopher Watts, known for his work with Twitching Tongues and Integrity. The image, still in progress, mirrors the tone of the release: stark, direct, uninterested in nostalgia for its own sake.
Die Young aren’t positioning this as a comeback or a statement of relevance. It well reads more like continuation — belief systems revisited, adjusted for time passed, still unresolved. The songs exist because the conditions for making them exist again. For now, that seems to be enough.
Once again, welcome back!
