BYMYSIDE came back swinging in May 2025 with Insieme Ricostruire, their first full-length in nearly ten years—and it’s not just some nostalgic reunion record.
Pulled together with the help of DIY labels from Italy to Canada to Turkey, this one feels like a real-time patchwork of grief, burnout, and buried friendships, all stitched together by the need to start over. It’s less about looking back and more about digging through the mess to find whatever’s still worth holding onto.
Insieme Ricostruire was co-released by several DIY labels: Lostdog Records (Italy), Vina Records (Italy), Shove Records (Italy), No Funeral (Canada), Rival Mists (USA), Entes Anomicos (Greece), and Mevzu Records (Turkey).
Active since 2012, with roots in the new school hardcore scene and a sound originally inspired by bands like Defeater and Touché Amoré, BYMYSIDE evolved across a series of raw, emotive releases—Self/Titled (2012), La Negazione della Realtà (2014), and Affogare, Risalire, Ricadere (2016).
But “Insieme Ricostruire” is different.
It’s more reflective, more spacious, and deliberately tethered to the present. The band calls it their most emotionally complete work yet, and it shows—not through spectacle, but through clarity.
“We went through some very dark times,” they told us, “but we changed our outlook on life, realizing how much strength we can draw from within.” The record started with isolated lyrics, fragments of memory, but when the tracklist took shape, a theme revealed itself. Each song’s title pointed to a single idea: rebuilding. From the ashes of the personal to the weight of the collective, it became their framework.
The record’s structure is tightly woven.
“Ogni nostro sguardo” opens with a tribute to lost friends—those who gave love without asking for anything in return. “Sofferenza e speranza” explores the lingering scars of COVID-era isolation, that strange contrast between stillness and suspended panic. “Abitudine” quietly shifts the record’s tone with a piano motif recorded by founding member Luca Chiudioni.
Much of the record is built on tension—between collapse and care, between identity and routine. “Dentro a queste mura” revisits broken friendships, peeling apart the layers of judgment and silence that can build up between people. “Luce” arrives out of disaster—written after the 2023 floods that devastated parts of Romagna, where members lost homes and workspaces. “Sognare per salvarsi” addresses mourning through metaphors of mountain climbing, ropes, and knots—written for a friend who passed five years ago. The emotional charge never tips into melodrama. “Senza fine” holds space for contradiction: growing up while still being tangled in doubt.
“Radici,” the last song written for the album, ties it all together. It’s about friendships that persist despite time, silence, or damage.
If the sound is less chaotic than their earliest releases, the core still holds. Screamo remains the container—but it’s filled with melodic shifts, pensive breaks, and textured instrumentation. Guitarist Jacopo Farsetti, the band’s youngest member, brought a fresh perspective, and there’s a shared confidence in their cohesion. “Even though we can’t spend as much time in the rehearsal room as we used to, we still instinctively know what each of us is going to do.”
The band has stayed close to its DIY roots—both geographically, in Cesena, and in spirit. “There’s hardly any new generation coming up,” they admit. Still, they’re surrounded by longtime collaborators and friends: Reverie, Lillians, Noyé. Their list of current favorites spans Italy and beyond—Chivàla, Trelkovsky, Astio, Chevalier, Put Purana, Death Goals, and more.
The record’s release is accompanied by plans for a short film composed of archival footage from 2016 to 2024. It’s meant to tell their story not through staged interviews or talking heads, but through the unfiltered lens of friendship and persistence. “We love cinema,” they said, “and we’ll be sharing it with you soon.”
What comes next?
After summer shows and the album release, the band plans to write new songs, print new merch, and tour across Italy and Europe. They remain realistic—unconcerned with image, uninterested in big tours—but anchored in the belief that small-scale honesty still matters.
Read the full interview below to hear BYMYSIDE speak about climbing ropes, broken cities, deep friendships, burnout, piano motifs, capitalism, loss, and what it means to keep playing when the world keeps falling apart.
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Catch the band live at the following dates:
4/7 @ Soglianois (Sogliano sul Rubicone – FC – Release Party)
1/8 @ Le Local (Strasbourg – France)
2/8 @ Was Bleibt Festival (Karlsruhe – Germany)
Let’s start from the heart of it all—this idea of rebuilding. It’s stitched into the record from start to finish.
Hello Karol, thank you once again for your time after all these years! Yes, every song on this record reflects the theme of rebuilding.
These past years have been incredibly difficult for each of us. We went through some very dark times—challenges that could have brought anyone to their knees. But we changed our outlook on life, realizing how much strength we can draw from within to overcome moments like these.
From there, we began by rebuilding ourselves—individually—then came together again as a band, supported by our closest friends.
What was the first crack in the wall that made you realize this album had to be about rebuilding—not just as a metaphor, but as a real framework for what you’ve been through?
First, the lyrics were written—then the concept of the record took shape.
At the beginning, we had lyrics that were tied to a specific period in time. But once we organized everything and finalized the tracklist, we realized the concept had been right in front of us all along. It emerged naturally, just by connecting the song titles.
We decided to include it in the artwork to highlight how deeply the songs are connected:
Italian: “In ogni nostro sguardo pieno di sofferenza e speranza, un’abitudine senza fine che ha messo radici dentro queste mura, all’interno, una luce quella necessaria a sognare per salvarsi. Distruggere, lasciare andare, insorgere e insieme ricostruire.”
English: “In each of our gazes, filled with suffering and hope, lies an endless habit that has taken root within these walls. Inside, a light—the one needed to dream in order to be saved. Destroy, let go, rise up, and rebuild—together.”
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There’s something striking in how you blend personal grief and global collapse in your lyrics. Was that a conscious choice from the beginning, or did it start more personal and then grow outward?
Francesco: I think it all began on a personal level and then expanded outward. For this record, I started from my own pain, from the pain of my friends, and from there I began writing lyrics that others could see themselves in. We talk about the loss of friends, loved ones, jobs, homes, the weight of capitalism, friendships as safe havens, coming back to life after quarantine, the end of relationships—and sometimes their reconnection. These are simple themes, but ones that many people our age have experienced recently. Processing this pain through music was also a way to bring closure to certain parts of our past and, finally, to let go of the suffering.
At the core, I consider myself a lucky person. I’m grateful for the people around me and for everything I have. I’m also someone who constantly asks questions—about the world, about what I feel, and about what others feel. I think that comes through in the way I express myself, both in writing—through lyrics—and physically.
When you talk about “self-medicating each other’s wounds”—how literal is that within the band? What kinds of conversations or rituals do you guys have that help each other through the bad stretches?
We don’t have any real rituals. What we mean is that we’ve been playing together in this band since 2012, and from that day on, we’ve never stopped, even though we’ve clashed with each other more than once. We’ve always held on, and we’ve never left anyone behind, not even in the moments when we were really backed into a corner. Each of us has had times when we temporarily stepped away from the band because we just couldn’t handle it at that moment. But over time, we realized that this band is the only way we have to let out everything that hurts us—and in a way, that’s a form of self-medication.
The record gives off a sense of internal revolt—not against others, but against despair. How much of this is about rewriting your own narrative after things fell apart?
The inner revolt lies in the desire to write an album that is fundamentally both sad and happy at the same time. It was a great exercise. Screamo has always been a genre of music with sad lyrics and riffs. We’ve still remained true to ourselves—our playing style hasn’t changed, the sad riffs and lyrics are still there—but in these songs, we also feel a strong urge to put a definitive end to certain chapters of our lives. That’s probably why there’s a sense of inner revolt against despair, which is still present in us, but less strongly and less significantly than in the past.
“Abitudine” stands out as a quiet rebellion—what drew you to that piano passage, and how did it shape the emotional landscape of the song?
The piano in “Abitudine” was an idea that came to us in the studio. We originally intended to add backing vocals to create a sort of background layer for the song—something that would evoke the repetitive feeling we associate with the “Habit” of the work routine. In the end, Andrea Cola, who recorded the album, had the intuition to introduce this instrument, which sounds repetitive but at the same time creates an emotional transition that perfectly connects with the final part of the lyrics:
Italian: “Domani è un giorno nuovo, per ricominciare tutto nuovamente. O forse no? Forse no.”
English: “Tomorrow is a new day, to start everything all over again. Or maybe not? Maybe not.”
You brought in Luca Chiudioni, one of your founding members, to play piano—was that just about the sound, or was it more about reconnecting with your roots?
Chiudo has always been close to us, even after he stopped playing. He’s one of our best friends, and he came by during the days we were recording in the studio. Besides being a great guitarist, he has always played piano as well, so he stepped in to record that piano part.
How has your relationship with the word habit changed since writing that song? Do you see routine now as a safety net or a cage?
The routine of capitalism will forever be a cage for human beings. Unfortunately, we—and the people around us, across different generations—are truly living through a frustrating situation. As of today, nothing has really changed for us, but this song also dares to give listeners the strength to start small revolutions in their own lives, to make this routine less oppressive, less assertive, and less obsessed with perfection and the constant pursuit of happiness—so that it can become a safe net instead.
Our happiness comes from the things that make us feel good, and for some people, that safe net might even be their job. But for us, we feel good when we’re with our friends, when we’re among ourselves, when we’re playing music, when we don’t have to act a certain way just because it’s expected of us or to please someone else. Simply, when we are ourselves, and not in this cage called “routine” or “capitalism”.
“Luce” hits differently when you know about the flood. Was there a moment during that experience when you knew you’d end up writing about it—or did the music come much later, after the debris was cleared?
Francesco: The lyrics of “Luce” were written about a year after the flood in Emilia-Romagna, but the images of what we experienced were still vivid in my mind. I lost a house in the hills—it can’t be restored with the funds allocated by the Italian government for each family. As of now, it’s still inaccessible because the road leading to it collapsed.
Our drummer Filippo lost a workplace and several thousand euros worth of equipment, archives, and years of hard work. Many of our friends suffered severe damage to their homes. All of this is incredibly heartbreaking. Seeing images on TV of our land devastated by such an event was truly painful and impactful.
It was here that we truly realized what it means to mistreat our planet—what it means, quite simply, to go against nature. Sooner or later, nature fights back, and you can’t beat it, my friend.
However, the lyrics also speak of the unity between those most affected by the flood and the friends or complete strangers who stepped in to help, trying to reclaim, in whatever way they could, what they had lost. That, too, was a powerful image—one that made me think that maybe, just maybe, there really is a light at the end of the darkest tunnels.
In our own small way, it was an honor for us to play a benefit show with Raein in Cesena to support those most affected by the flood.
That was the last time we played with the original lineup, together with Chiudo, and also Raein played “Tigersuit” with the original lineup. It was emotional!
The idea of putting on a smile-mask during devastation feels painfully universal. Did you ever feel like that mask started becoming your real face?
That mask became the true face of the people—an expression of the deep gratitude they felt for the help the community gave them, but also a symbol of the strength we found in ourselves to remove the mud from our homes and keep on living.
Beneath it, though, there are tears—for a government and local administrations that have not stood by the people most affected, that have failed to carry out real recovery efforts. Some areas of Romagna are still struggling today; whenever it rains heavily, certain roads still flood.
The situation is serious and will continue to cause more damage. We can wear a smile, but I believe that smile needs to be sustained by real, concrete support.
When you think about “Sognare per salvarsi”—the image of climbing ropes, tying knots—was that someone’s real story in the band, or more of a shared metaphor you all connected with?
Francesco: This song is about someone very dear to me who has not been on this earth for five years.
Climbing ropes and knots—used both on rock and glacier—are a metaphor for the principles this person built their life upon and passed on to me while they were alive.
They taught me the importance of unity with the people you love—friends and family—the fundamental values you can’t live without, the value of our own conscience, holding your head high, and always being true to yourself and loyal to others, no matter the situation.
This song reads like a love letter to those who left and those who taught you how to hold on. Were there any specific memories or people that flooded back while writing it?
Francesco: More than teaching me to hold on, this is a love letter in which I finally accept that he is no longer here physically—but that he is even more present spiritually in everything I do.
I’ve thought deeply about him and about what I miss most: his comforting words, his constructive advice, his support, his way of thinking with clarity and purpose—but above all, the activity that made him feel most alive: climbing.
In this song, you can hear a second melodic voice—a sweet farewell caress—and also a touch of lightheartedness that he was deeply connected to: melodic singing.
This style of singing has always represented the sweetest moments of my childhood, and now being able to include it in a screamo record makes me truly happy.
We took elements from the past to grow as a band. It was a powerful experience.
There’s this quiet strength in your lyrics, like refusing to be broken is its own form of protest. Was that always your intention, or did it emerge while playing these songs live or in rehearsal?
Francesco: When I started writing the lyrics for this album, between 2023 and 2024, I was living my life simply trying to be grateful for what I had—from material things to relationships, friends, and my family. I’ve lost so much over the years, and I no longer wanted to look back on the past with sadness. I needed to react, to draw strength even from the difficult moments I managed to overcome.
In the past, with Bymyside, I always wrote lyrics filled with incurable pessimism. And even though those were all things I truly felt and believed, maybe having that kind of approach to life and to the band never really made me feel completely okay.
These lyrics, in a way, are a release—because they fully represent my way of living, and in some ways, the band’s as well.
Let’s talk about “Radici.” You call it the manifesto song for the record. Was there a moment where everything clicked—where that song suddenly felt like the anchor for the entire album?
Francesco: Radici was the last song we wrote, both musically and lyrically.
In this song, there’s everything that friendship means to us today. While writing the lyrics, I first thought of my bandmates, with whom I’ve shared so many beautiful moments—not just through music—for a very long time, and to whom I probably never gave the importance they truly deserved.
Then I thought of a friend who entered my life forcefully but naturally about a year ago, and of two friends I consider older brothers.
I thought about the good they’ve done for me, and the love I feel for them—something that is vitally important to me today.
In the lyrics, I wrote a line for each of them—a gentle touch to say thank you:
Italian: “Coloro tutto, anche il tempo che non ho.
Un abbraccio, a restituire forza.
Controllo tutto, anche quello che non riesco.
Un urlo, a riprendere me stesso.”
English: “I color everything, even the time I don’t have.
A hug, to give back strength.
I control everything, even what I can’t.
A scream, to reclaim myself.”
You’ve said it’s about friendship—but that’s such a complicated word these days. What kind of friendship are you writing about? The kind that survives change, or the kind that only exists in crisis?
We’re talking about the kind of friendship that exists naturally, that endures over time, and that we’re sure will continue to exist in the future.
We’re talking about the kind of friendship that made us realize that “together” is better than “alone”, that “uniting” is better than “dividing”.
These roots help us walk when we stumble, they lift our spirits even if we see these people for just a few seconds.
This kind of friendship withstands change and survives even through crises.
It’s rare for a band to put out a record this emotionally complete after such a long break. How did you know you were ready?
Thank you for these kind words! We were hoping someone would feel all the emotion behind it. This is simply the story of our lives from the first COVID lockdown up to today.
We needed to express everything we’ve felt over these years with all our hearts. As always, we’ve been honest with ourselves and with what we wanted to share.
If even just a small part of the heart we poured into this can be felt, then it means we’ve achieved our goal.
How did you hold onto your identity as a band during those quiet years?
Some of us never really drifted away from certain types of music, while others wanted to evolve the classic Screamo sound we used to play.
On top of that, Jacopo—our new guitarist—fit into the band really well, bringing fresh and interesting ideas.
Jacopo is the newest member, and also the youngest in the band—he’s 10 to 14 years younger than us—but you don’t feel that age gap at all.
We’re still the same people, even nine years after “Affogare, Risalire, Ricadere”, just with new emotions and new perspectives.
What was it like to rediscover yourselves musically after the time away? Did anything surprise you?
We were surprised that, even though we can no longer physically spend as much time in the rehearsal room as we did before—first with “La Negazione della Realtà”, then with “Affogare, Risalire, Ricadere”—we still instinctively know what each of us is going to do.
Also, as we mentioned in the previous question, maybe it’s the fact that after everything we’ve been through, we’re still the same people, and nothing has really changed when we play together.
Let’s dip back into “Sofferenza e Speranza.” Was there a specific moment post-COVID that shook you awake, made you want to knock down the metaphorical walls?
Being forced to stay at home at a time when many of us had projects to carry out—or simply wanted to live our lives like any other 26 to 30-year-olds—wasn’t pleasant for anyone.
Some people actually felt okay during quarantine; they had the chance to catch their breath and reflect on what was happening in their lives.
Several of us, however, struggled during that period for different reasons. We ended up living what felt like a non-existence.
Now that we can, we want to take back everything we lost.
It’s interesting that quarantine gave some people peace, and others complete breakdown. Where did you fall on that spectrum?
Probably, in a situation where we were forced to stay at home without losing the people close to us, we would have experienced a time of peace and tranquility. We all have our own social lives and bonds with our loved ones, but we are also quite selective about the people we choose to have relationships with. A period like that, without the negative events that happened to us, would likely have been welcomed positively. Still, at the end of it, we would have felt the desire to reclaim what we missed out on during a year and a half spent locked indoors. Some of us ended up on the spectrum of burnout, mostly because of what we went through during that time. Others were fortunate enough to have experienced peace.
If you had to sum up the collective emotion of the band in July 2023, when you first listened to that early demo—what would it be?
Michele: In these years since the release of our last album, we’ve always kept writing. Sometimes we even played some songs live that were never officially released. In 2022, I had sketched out ten new tracks, but when we tried them all together in the rehearsal room, we didn’t really like them.
So in 2023, after a stay in the hospital, I started composing what would become the album we’re listening to now. It started with five tracks, including one instrumental (which we eventually didn’t include). These songs were immediately liked by all the band members, and we began arranging them together, just like we’ve always done. From there, the other songs pretty much came out on their own.
And did that emotion shift once the album started taking shape?
Michele: While we were recording with Andrea, we added guitars, piano, and vocals that we hadn’t fully prepared — basically, when we received the first mix, we were all very pleased with it.
“Dentro a queste mura” paints a picture of walls—emotional, physical, even architectural. How much of that song came from lived experience, and how much was you imagining someone else’s?
Francesco: This song is about a real experience I went through. It talks about my relationship with some people I once considered my closest friends, with whom I decided to cut ties during a particularly difficult time in my life.
I felt misunderstood at a moment when it was nearly impossible to be understood, and I still believe there were a lot of judgments and unspoken looks exchanged between me and them.
With some of them, I’ve been lucky enough to reconnect—differently, more consciously, more maturely. The bond may not be as strong as it once was, but perhaps now it’s a more genuine friendship. We’re able to truly enjoy every moment we spend together.
You seem to explore the difficulty of breaking cycles—emotional patterns, toxic habits. Have any of you personally broken one while writing or recording this record?
Francesco: Over the past few years, I’ve made the decision to remove everything from my life that makes me feel bad—whether it’s a waste of time, something pointless, or friendships that no longer gave me what I truly needed.
From my diet to my passions and hobbies, I’ve chosen to focus mainly on the human relationships that genuinely make me feel good.
“Senza Fine” is one of those tracks that feels like a breathless sprint through your own reflection. How do you navigate growth when you’re still full of doubt?
Francesco: Honestly, I don’t really know, hahaha! For me, it’s beautiful to discover it day by day and to see how I react differently to situations that have repeated over the years. The version of myself at 20 no longer exists, and I’m happy with who I’ve become in my 30s. I finally accept myself for who I am—with all my strengths and flaws, with all my doubts, insecurities, and uncertainties. This song is meant to be an encouragement for people my age to appreciate themselves even in the most difficult moments, because each of us is unique in our own way, with a world of our own to share.
Is your thirties a time for rebuilding in the same way your twenties were for collapse?
Francesco: As far as I’m concerned, yes. I don’t deny how I lived through my 20s, but I basically spent them feeling out of place in the world around me, and over time, that really took a toll on me. As I approached 30, I had to go through a process of rebuilding myself in order to start appreciating the little things again, and the people around me. Rebuilding yourself at 30 is a beautiful thing, and so is doing the same things you did at 15—with the awareness that comes with age.
You’ve all been part of other bands and scenes. How did those past projects echo or dissolve in the writing of this new material?
Michele: Personally, I played in screamo bands for about 15 years of my life — basically since I was a kid. The feeling has always been the same. I’ve always had an unconditional love for everything DIY, for sharing, and for friendship — the things that really matter when you’re in a band.
What did you have to unlearn as musicians to let this record happen?
Michele: I definitely had to try to move away a bit from the usual screamo sounds. I experimented with different tunings, and the guitar riffs aren’t strictly tied to that genre. Let’s say that during the writing period of the album, my listening ranged from Fine Before You Came to Balmorhea — with a bit of punk in between… ahaha..
How do you keep your older songs—like “Spleen” or the La Negazione della Realtà EP—alive in your head while not letting them dictate what you do next?
Francesco: Those songs represent our past, where we come from, and the musical scene we belong to. We definitely can’t separate ourselves from those things. However, at a certain point, it’s also necessary to grow musically, personally, and lyrically. The themes of the lyrics in our older songs, with a few exceptions, no longer represent us, but they were still a fundamental part of our life as a band, and we continue to perform them live. Personally, when it comes to live shows, I much prefer playing the songs from “La Negazione della Realtà” and “Spleen” over those from “Affogare, Risalire, Ricadere”.
Are there any moments during this new record where you felt like you were writing your own past a little differently?
From a lyrical standpoint, that was exactly the goal. The words blend very well with the music too, which may have taken a bit longer to come together, but in the end, even the music, in its own way, tells the story of our past from a different perspective.
Let’s talk about Cesena for a second—your home base. What’s it like being a band from there in 2025? How does it shape your sound, your vision?
We’re one of the few bands left in the city.
On one hand, that’s something really special for us—it means that, even after 13 years, this still brings us joy. On the other hand, it’s quite sad, because there’s hardly any new generation coming up, apart from a couple of young bands.
In Cesena or Forlì in 2025, people tend to focus on other things, and the venues where bands can play can be counted on one hand.
This definitely gives playing this kind of music an added value—even on a human level. We’re not like most people our age.
Has the city changed around you since 2016, when you last released a full album?
Cesena has changed in many ways. We’ve grown older, and as a result, we realize we’re no longer suited to hang out in certain places. The main issue, in our opinion, is that due to the lack of a real generational turnover in terms of cultural or creative offerings, the city has settled into what people generally enjoy: eating and drinking. You no longer see truly alternative nights, and even the venues that should be promoting that kind of message are adapting to what the majority likes. It’s a city that’s becoming increasingly sad and flat, and that’s a shame because Cesena is still a nice place to live—just like Forlì, Ravenna, or Rimini—but they no longer offer the kind of experiences you might find in Bologna, Milan, or Rome.
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If someone wanted to get the feel of your local scene in one weekend, where should they go and who should they see?
As for concerts, definitely Magazzino Parallelo in Cesena with a Heavy Shows concert. As for concerts in Ravenna, Rimini, or Forlì, it depends on the evening and the type of event.
What smaller, DIY venues or squats still matter to you in Italy? Any stories tied to those spaces?
We feel a strong connection to Magazzino Parallelo in Cesena, as well as to CS Bocciodromo in Vicenza, Next Emerson in Florence, Freakout and DEV—which closed in 2024—in Bologna, and Circolo Artigiana in Fano. As spectators, we’re also deeply attached to XM24 in Bologna, which was evicted in 2019, to Post War Cinema Club, Art Lab, and Saletta Adorno in Parma, to Astro Club in Pordenone, Ekidna in Carpi, La Tenda in Modena, and Villa Severi in Arezzo.
Looking at the broader picture—who are some bands from Italy or nearby that really blew your mind in 2024 or 2025 so far?
We’re definitely connected to the bands of our friends—Reverie, which also features Michele, Lillians, where Filippo sings and plays guitar, and Noyé.
We all come from the same town; we’re practically brothers. All of them released music between 2024 and 2025, and we’ve built such a strong bond that when one of us plays, it feels like we’re all playing together. There are also so many bands we’ve really enjoyed between last year and this year.
The first that come to mind are: Chivàla from Bari, Konoha and Trelkovsky from Modena, Sacro Fuoco from Torino, Put Purana from Brianza, Chevalier from Via Emilia, Astio from Trento, Festa del Perdono from Milan, Skulld from Romagna, Teenage Bubblegums from Forlì, Cheap Date from Caserta, Irma from Lodi, Ashen Hands from Emilia, Noverte from Bologna, Astral Projection Class from Perugia, Serpe Terror from Pordenone, Amalia Bloom, Stegosauro, Regarde and Jaguero from Vicenza, Soastasphrenas and I Practice Saying Sorry To You So I Can Do It In Front Of The Mirror One Day from Germany, Moshimoshi from Finland, and Death Goals from the UK.
Any records you wish got more attention this year?
Boato by Chivàla; Put Purana / Reverie Split; Noyé new record (it will be out in September 2025); Life in Minor by Noverte; Ashen Hands EP; Chevalier new EP (it will be out in 2025); Normale by Cosmetic; Death of a Rabbit by Your Arms Are My Cocoon; A Life of Destruction by Lagrimas; Mausoleum by Provoker; Forever is a Feeling by Lucy Dacus; Lonely People With Power by Deafheaven; Welcome to my Blue Sky by Momma; Pet of the Week by Disquited By; Tragedie | Vivere by dagerman.; Tempio Inganno by Astio; Jupiter by Rival Consoles (new record out in July 2025); Come Sbagliare di Meno by Renàra; Die in Love by Greet Death.
Also Raein should release a new record, obviously we can’t wait for it!
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And any upcoming bands you’re genuinely excited for, even if they’re just getting started?
Trelkovsky from Modena, Settimana Mistica from Vicenza, Unwilling from Cesena, Cortesia from Pesaro, Evelyne and Reality from Macerata, I Practice Saying Sorry To You So I Can Do It In Front Of The Mirror One Day from Germany, Chevalier from Via Emilia, The Cliffs are Silent, The Cliffs are Sentient from Naples, Espira from Salento.
Your album was co-released with labels in Canada, the US, Turkey, and more. What was that experience like, working across countries and continents?
We changed all the labels compared to Affogare, Risalire, Ricadere, except for Entes Anomicos. It was really powerful to work with Carlos again after so many years—seeing that he’s even more full of energy than before was truly great.
Beyond that, we met many new people who were enthusiastic about the project and gave us a big hand. We’d love to meet Mutlu, Tim, and Nathaniel in person—the people behind Mevzu Records, Rival Mists, and No Funeral. Soon we’ll also meet Dave from Vina Records, while we had already met Manu from Shove and Morgan from Lostdog. It’s essential to hold on to people like them to keep the DIY spirit alive.
Did that international collab change how you see yourselves in the scene?
We have a better perception of the DIY scene now, regardless of the genre. Of course, some labels struggle financially—money is always tight for everyone—but when it comes to live shows, especially in Italy, we’re seeing an energy and drive that didn’t exist a few years ago. This collaboration fills us with joy. What makes us happiest is seeing that, all over the world, we can find people like us—people who love music, who take pleasure in supporting bands that want to release records, and who dedicate their time, money, and effort to keeping music alive and moving.
You mentioned a short “film” about making the record—what kind of story are you telling there that you couldn’t fit into the music?
The ‘film’ will feature video footage from the period between 2016 and 2024. In it, we tell the story of what we’ve become after 13 years of making music together, and how, despite everything that has happened, nothing has truly changed between us. We had already created a similar project with footage shot between 2013 and 2015, for the release of Affogare, Risalire, Ricadere. We love this kind of storytelling about bands—whether they’re touring or making records. On top of that, we all love cinema—some of us even work in the industry. We’ll be sharing it with you soon. It’s something that’s very close to our hearts, and releasing this ‘film’ will be a deeply emotional moment for us.
When you’re on tour, how do you keep the deeper meaning of the songs from getting lost in the repetition?
We deeply believe in the songs we write—each one is a part of us and tells a story. Touring or playing live is also a very special time for us, as we get to spend a lot of time together. Playing music is just a small part of it.
Does playing live still heal anything, or has it become more of a way to survive?
It has become really special to do this in Italy, especially now that the scene is mostly made up of young people who know the songs and go wild at shows—whether we’re playing in front of a big crowd or just a few people. But, as we mentioned before, maybe the best part of all this is simply spending time together.
What does success mean to BYMYSIDE now compared to 2012?
We’ve never really ‘made it’ in the broader sense—I don’t think we’ll ever be touring in a bus to shows, and I honestly don’t think we ever will. On our small scale, we just wanted to play abroad, make records, and carve out our own little space in the alternative music scene, which is already a small niche. I don’t know if we’ll ever truly get there, but we’re happy with the small victories we achieve every day, and we’re grateful for everyone who, in one way or another, feels connected to the music we make. To us, that’s the real meaning of ‘success’.
And if this whole thing had to end tomorrow—what would you want people to remember?
We’d like to be remembered as a real band—one that speaks to the heart and in which people can see themselves through the lyrics. In our own small way, we hope our songs can give people the strength to keep going during difficult times, and that they’ve felt as emotionally involved in the music as we have.
If this record had to be summarized in a single sentence whispered between friends, what would you hope it’d be?
Difficult to say. Maybe the most cliché of all ‘cool!’, or ‘wanttoseethemagain!’, or ‘wanttobuytherecord!’
When people say your music saved them—how do you handle that responsibility?
No one has ever told us that! Hahaha. But it would definitely be nice to hear—it’s also one of the reasons why we make music.
Do you ever feel the need to step back from your own lyrics, or are they still teaching you something new every time?
Francesco: The next step in our musical growth will definitely be writing lyrics that are still personal, but perhaps more detached and universal. Even though, quite often, even the older lyrics I’ve written tend to come back into my life in cycles.
If “Insieme Ricostruire” had a second life in another medium—film, photo, poetry—what would it be?
Filippo and Francesco: If “Insieme Ricostruire” were a film, it would be “Perfect Days” by Wim Wenders, and if it were a football player, it would be Roberto Baggio.
Let’s wrap this gently—what still scares you about making music?
Michele: We are worried about the fact that the costs of performing and releasing music in physical formats have increased.
We are worried that this is causing continuous delays in releases.
We are worried that in Italy, attention is given to the usual bands, and not enough to those with fewer followers, less social media appeal, or fewer streams on Spotify.
And what, no matter what happens, always pulls you back?
Michele: We really love spending time together, going to concerts, meeting new people, bands, and discovering new places.
We really love the fact that we’ve been friends for such a long time.
We still love playing music—both these new songs and the older ones.
With this album, we want to share a message that, in a way, is universal and perhaps the most important of all: let’s break down barriers, both physical and mental, step away from toxic and capitalist dynamics, and try to build our own little world—one made of unity instead of division.
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