There’s nothing casual about I Want To Go Home, the new record by KAONASHI. From the opening scream to the final disintegration, the Philadelphia crew aren’t just wrapping up a decade-long concept arc — they’re setting the whole thing on fire.
Dropped June 6 via Equal Vision Records, this album is the follow-up to Dear Lemon House, You Ruined Me: Senior Year and a full-circle moment in their saga of pain, identity, and unraveling. You’ll hear guest vocals from Anthony Green (Circa Survive, L.S. Dunes) and Piantini Toribio (Newcomer), but nothing feels like a feature. Everything is stitched tightly into the band’s emotional DNA — suffocating, explosive, intricate.
In our conversation, Kaonashi opened up about the intention behind the chaos. We talked about the album’s horror-inspired tension-building, writing as an act of survival, and how it feels to finally “go home” after living in the Lemon House for ten years.
Peter Rono reflects on being misunderstood, on choosing art that cuts deep, and on why this album had to be heavier, lonelier, and more final than anything before. We also touched on Philly’s shifting underground, the duality of performing, and what it means to carry a message when the world still doesn’t always make space for your voice.
Scroll down for the full interview, where we talk grief, panic attacks set to mathcore, emotional sabotage, the pressures of representation, and the haunting finality of closing a story that’s defined the band for over a decade.
Kaonashi are currently on tour across Europe, playing a mix of festivals and intimate club shows. You can catch them live at Ieperfest in Belgium, 2000trees in the UK, and Flacore Fest in Germany. They’re also stopping by venues like JuHa West in Stuttgart, the Shacklewell Arms in London, the Hug and Pint in Glasgow, Glazart in Paris, and Little Devil in Tilburg. Check out the full list of dates at the end of the interview.
This new record opens like someone smashing open a locked door just to scream “I want to go home.” I’m feeling grief, guilt, confusion, maybe even longing here. That kind of opener doesn’t feel accidental. When did that phrase become the emotional core of this thing? Was there a moment where you realized that’s it, that’s the thread?
When we started writing the record, we knew “I Want To Go Home.” was going to be the title. It was the emotional core of the record from the beginning. Pao, our drummer, brought up the idea while we were reflecting on the entirety of the concept. It fits because it’s a completion and feels like we’re bringing the story home.
You’ve been telling this story across albums and EPs, building this strange, emotional universe that feels part high school drama, part personal hell. Do you still see those characters as avatars, or have they slowly turned into mirrors?
They’re definitely mirrors into ourselves. We put our personal lives into these characters but also our friends lives. The story may be fiction but it’s so deeply rooted in reality.
The new stuff feels louder but also lonelier, like the chaos got sharper. Was this record written from a darker place, or is it just a clearer version of what’s always been there?
It was written from a darker place. Since this is the last installment of the story, I truly felt the urgency to drive the point home. This is a cautionary tale, it’s not supposed to end well. And with that in mind, the creation in general was much darker.
Your songs don’t move like songs—they move like breakdowns in thought. The way you switch gears, twist tempos, drop into silence—it feels like panic attacks set to mathcore. How much of that is mapped out, and how much of it is just instinct and compulsion?
It’s all mapped out, we’ve put so much thought into these songs, down to the last minute in the studio, it’s is all planned and intentional.
There’s moments here that feel like emotional sabotage—you let something beautiful in, then immediately crush it. That’s not just songwriting, that’s a choice. Are you trying to create tension, or is that just how you experience life and it leaks through?
I was trying to create tension. This time around, I really looked at writing the lyrics like writing a script and I took a lot of inspiration from horror movies and how they build tension.
What keeps you coming back to the same themes? You could’ve pivoted out, started fresh. But instead, you closed a loop. What made you stay in the Lemon House all this time?
When we started it, we knew it would take years so it was an easy decision to stick with it.
Anthony Green, Piantini Toribio—these guests carry their own emotional codes. What did they unlock in the songs, or in you?
Both of them were picked after the parts were written. I wanted them to add their style to the songs and make it their own. Anthony was chosen for the post-hardcore feeling and Piantini for the chaotic, spastic feeling.
The Sanguine tracks at the end feel like a psychic purge—claustrophobic, feral, exhausting. Was it hard to get through those during recording, or were they more like release valves?
It was more like release valves, the recording process for me is more fun than anything. I’m enjoying making songs, it just so happens that’s it’s very vulnerable music.
When you’re writing this kind of material—unfiltered, messy, bleeding—how do you avoid letting it eat you alive? Or do you let it, and just hope there’s something left when you come out the other side?
When I’m writing my goal is always to write a critically, objectively good song. I want to be known as a good songwriter. It just so happens that the music is extremely personal and emotional. I don’t avoid anything while writing besides doing the same thing twice.
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Onstage, Kaonashi’s never looked like a band trying to win the room. You look like you’re trying to survive something. Has the live set become a kind of exorcism, or are you still looking for connection underneath all that catharsis?
The live set has gone from trying to win people over and build a fanbase, to serving our fanbase and giving them a place to express themselves. I take a lot of inspiration from the Chariot where the crowd was half of the performance. The people who come see us make the show what it is.
You’ve talked before about being misunderstood, and about embracing that. But what would you say to the person who’s right on the edge—who almost gets it, almost feels it, but still pulls back?
It may not be for you right now, and that’s fine. I understand. But you’re always welcome at our shows. We’re ready when you are, we’re not going anywhere.
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You’ve shared stages with some wild minds—THE FALL OF TROY, PROTEST THE HERO, etc. One of my favourite 00s melodic messy post hardcore acts. Any moments from tour that changed the way you think about what this band is or could be?
Watching the mix of young and old fans come out to see these bands has been very inspiring. It shows longevity can be attained if you write good music, and they have!
Genre-wise, you’ve always played in the margins. But identity-wise, too—Peter being a Black front person in a scene that doesn’t often make space for that kind of representation. Has that affected how you move, how you’re perceived, or even how you write?
It affects every aspect of what I do, even outside of the band. It makes me work harder because I have something to prove. I want to prove that all different kinds of people make this music. And I want to be living proof to any kid who looks like me, proof that they can do whatever they want to. Even beyond music.
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Let’s bring it home for a sec—Philly has a wild history of producing bands that don’t fit molds. Who in your city’s scene right now is doing something that actually scares you in a good way?
No one. Besides my peers from 10 years ago, I haven’t really seen or heard any art that “scares me in a good way” Don’t get me wrong, there’s good bands, but I would like more polarizing and groundbreaking bands from Philly.
Any underground shows or DIY bands you ran recently that cracked your brain open? Doesn’t matter if they’ve got 30 monthly listeners—who made you stop what you were doing and listen?
Omerta, away with words, Space Camp, Rosasharin, Playytime, fromjoy.
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When you’re not making Kaonashi music, what kind of art makes you feel like you’re not alone? What’s the weird little thing that gets you?
Making rap music, I haven’t done it as much since I’ve been so focused on “I Want To Go Home.” But it’s a huge passion of mine, it’s quite opposite of Kaonashi because it’s much more stream of consciousness and I just say what I want.
Now that the Lemon House saga’s over, what scares you more: starting something new, or maybe realizing there’s nothing left to say?
Realizing there’s nothing left to say, as of right now I just ended something I’ve been working on for 10 years so I feel like I’m starting over again but it’ll be fine, more life experiences will give me more lyrics.
And if this was the last Kaonashi record—just hypothetically—what would you want people to remember: the music, the message, or the mess?
The message over everything. The entire message of The Lemon House Saga is: it wouldn’t have happened if somebody would have listened.
Thank you so much. The last words are yours.
Thank you to everyone who supports us!!!
KAONASHI on tour:
5 — Stuttgart, DE — JuHa West
06 — Ieper, BE — Ieperfest
07 — Brighton, UK — Prince Albert
08 — London, UK — Shacklewell Arms
09 — Newcastle, UK — The Grove
10 — Glasgow, UK — The Hug and Pint
11 — Cheltenham, UK — 2000Trees
12 — Lincoln, UK — Lincoln Labour Club
13 — Exeter, UK — Cavern Club
14 — Ashford, UK — The Star Inn
15 — Paris, FR — Glazart
16 — Ghent, BE — JH Asgaard
17 — Tilburg, NL — Little Devil
18 — Arnhem, NL — Uffie’s
19 — Bielefeld, DE — FlaCore Fest
