In an era of mounting disquiet, Scare’s second LP rushes as a calculated exorcism of modern malaise.
Thirty-two minutes of unyielding metallic hardcore and sludge, compressed into thirteen tracks, confronts the ceaseless loop of inner torment and societal decay.
Recorded, mixed, and mastered by Ryan Battistuzzi at Le Stuzzio, and adorned with artwork by Kevin Martel, the record lays bare a bleak reality—yet hints at the possibility of renewal. Today, we dive deep into this beast, with a special early listen and the band’s track by track rundown below!
Since forming in 2015, Scare has steadily refined a sound forged in the crucible of influences like Cursed, Mi Amore, Buried Inside, and Trigger Effect. With a debut demo, followed by Fleshed Out (2016), Not Dead Yet, Probably… (2019), and the Congratulations On Your Death EP (2021), the band has never shied away from unmasking the darker facets of existence. This record, steeped in anxiety-driven reflection, is less about overt theatrics and more about exposing the raw edges of modern life.
Self-released digitally and on vinyl—both Black and Random Colored—the album is supported by a robust Quebec tour. Scare will headline their record release show on February 22nd at L’ANTI Bar & Spectacles (Québec City), and continue through Montréal, Sherbrooke, Alma, and Saguenay.
In conversation, the band details a track-by-track journey—each song a fragment of catharsis and a part of SCARE’s reflections on environmental decay, systemic injustice, industry betrayal, and the relentless cycles of personal and societal collapse.
It’s not just music; it’s an exorcism.
Each track is a piece of our rawest emotions, wrapped in distortion and screaming into the void. These songs are scars, memories, battles. Here’s what they mean—to us, to you, to anyone who listens and feels something break or heal inside.
Nevermind If It All Explodes, I’ll Die Anyway
It’s a piece that explores the idea that we may be trapped in a loop. Every decision we make, every path we take, and every loss of a loved one seems to repeat itself without us having the power to change anything in our lives. The only way to break free from this negative loop is to realize that we are in one and to try to create moments we would want to relive. In the end, was it really worth it?
PMA: Pessimistic Mental Attitude
This song is a clenched fist against the struggle of sobriety. It’s about waking up every day with the gnawing hunger for something to quiet the demons, but learning to face life raw, unfiltered, and ugly. PMA is the anthem for those standing on the edge, refusing to jump—fighting for clarity while shadows claw at the edges of their mind.
Drifted Away
A love story that was never meant to survive. The kind that starts with fire and ends in cold ash. Over time, everything faded—the passion, the connection, even who we were. Two lovers turned into strangers, echoes of what could have been. Drifted Away is the sound of mourning for something that’s still alive but can’t be saved.
The Black Painting
This one takes inspiration from Francisco Goya’s descent into madness. At the end of his life, he secluded himself and created monstrous, haunting murals—darker and more sinister than anything he’d done before. It’s a reflection of isolation and the way our art mirrors the decay within. The Black Painting asks: what do we create when we’re stripped of everything but our shadows?
Thrash Melrose
It’s a reflection on Green Anarchism and a lament for the state of our planet. It speaks to the harsh reality that humanity has crossed a threshold, endangering the home that nurtures us. The song calls for a return to simplicity, to lives rooted in harmony with nature rather than domination over it. For even if we falter, nature will endure and thrive, a testament to its resilience and the balance we’ve strayed so far from.
Crowned in Yellow
Inspired by Robert W. Chambers’ The King in Yellow, this song is a hymn to cosmic horror and existential dread. The Yellow King is chaos incarnate, a figure tied to a cursed play that drives its readers insane. It’s a metaphor for the things we chase that unravel us—obsession, power, truth. Crowned in Yellow pulls you into the fiction of Carcosa, where nothing makes sense, and madness is the only constant.
Jeanne Dark This
It’s a rallying cry, a call to arms. Hate is everywhere, festering in silence and screaming in the streets. Jeanne Dark is about taking a stand, giving a voice to the silenced, and building a space where the outcasts can rise. Now is the time to fight, to scream, to refuse to sit still. Hate thrives in inaction. Jeanne Dark is here to burn it down.
Midnight Ride
This one hits close to home, and it should make your blood boil. It’s about the “midnight rides” in Saskatoon, where Indigenous people were abandoned outside city limits in freezing temperatures by police. A practice that led to deaths, it’s a gut-wrenching reminder of systemic racism and the fragility of justice. Midnight Ride is the howl of anger against a system that should protect but instead destroys.
Turbograine
To those who chase fame before art: we see you. Turbograine is a middle finger to the leeches who exploit, manipulate, and take without giving back. Art is blood, sweat, and soul—not a shortcut to relevance. This song is a warning: you don’t belong here, and we’ll make sure you know it.
Harakiri ton Industrie
Our French-language track is an attack on the music industry itself. It’s about the businessmen disguised as friends, the ones who smile while carving up your soul for profit. Harakiri ton Industrie is our rebellion against a system that values money over meaning. Let them know: we see through their suits and fake handshakes.
Reality of Death in the Maze of Hope
This one is heavy, both in sound and meaning. Inspired by John B. Calhoun’s “Universe 25” experiment, it’s a reflection on overpopulation, societal collapse, and the suffocating abundance of a world that can’t handle its own growth. The mice in Calhoun’s experiment had everything they needed, yet they destroyed themselves. Reality of Death in the Maze of Hope asks: is this our fate, too?
Doomynation / Doomynation 2
Is it too late for us? That’s the question. These tracks are the soundtrack to the apocalypse—a slow, grinding end to everything we’ve built. Doomynation is the anthem of despair, but also defiance. If we’re going down, we’re going down screaming.
These songs are more than tracks on an album. They’re battle cries, laments, warnings, and manifestos. They’re us. If you feel it too, let’s burn together.
