Violence Breeds Violence, the debut album from French band Split, arrives on October 10, 2025, with the kind of focus that makes its title feel less like provocation and more like documentation. Across seven tracks, the band builds a sound that’s brutal, direct, and unflinchingly tied to lived experience — political, personal, and psychological.
The record opens with a track that immediately throws you off balance — twisting expectations and blurring any clear idea of what kind of sound will follow. It’s a sharp introduction that hints at Split’s creative approach to pulling from their influences without ever simply repeating them.
Frontman Marvin describes the origin of the project as something inward, not outward. “It started from within—out of frustration, the injustice of feeling miserable, and the anger I was carrying when I wrote this record,” he says. Split wasn’t formed as a reaction to a scene or a movement. “It came from a need to find myself again, to help myself, and to create something that actually made sense to me.”
Each track deals with subjects that most prefer to avoid: domestic violence, addiction, depression, death, and systemic brutality. The band doesn’t distinguish between private pain and collective rage — both feed into the same current. “This record speaks to all of us in some way because it deals with topics that are current but too often swept under the rug,” Marvin explains.
“I Feel Nothing More,” released alongside the album, takes on addiction as if it were a relationship. “That song’s about drug addiction, but it’s told through the metaphor of a toxic relationship,” Marvin says. “It’s a dialogue between the protagonist and their addiction, which takes human form—it’s an honest, redemptive exchange between confrontation and resilience.” The idea of giving yourself away and clawing that life back runs through the lyrics like a pulse — a reflection of self-destruction and the effort to break free from it.
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When asked whether the record’s anger leans more toward politics or personal struggle, Marvin sees no clear divide. “Usually, when I start writing, I know right away what a song will be about,” he says. “Those two themes—politics and personal struggle—dominate the record because I needed to talk about them for my own well-being.” He writes music first, then words. “The lyrics come after, like the icing on the cake. I often do that on trains—I’ll listen to demos and write the lyrics in one go while the song plays.”
Despite the harshness of the sound and subject matter, the recording process itself was calm and decisive. “We didn’t fight at all, actually. Everything came naturally. We worked with amazing people who immediately understood the vision,” Marvin says. “There were zero compromises on this record. That was the rule from the start—it’s just not in Split’s nature to make any.”
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That clarity extends to performance. “Hardcore is an honest kind of music—it grabs you by the throat and the gut,” he says. “It’s raw, it’s real, and it doesn’t fake anything. You might not vibe with it, but you’ll never be indifferent—especially live.” Authenticity, for Marvin, isn’t a choice but instinct. “If you’re overthinking on stage, you’ve already missed the point.”
Still, the rage that fuels Split doesn’t consume him anymore. “I try to live healthier now—getting help, learning to understand who I am and why,” he says. “There’s no real cure. For a while I was on medication—it didn’t really help, maybe just kept things from getting worse. I eventually stopped.” For him, progress comes through awareness: “I started finding meaning in things again, when before nothing really had any.”
That awareness also extends to the political landscape around him. “France is going through a political crisis. Almost every law being passed goes against my beliefs,” Marvin says. “Violence is everywhere. The current climate breeds more violence—it affects all of us. Police brutality is normalized, our voices aren’t being heard, the far right is stronger than ever, the rich are richer, the poor are poorer. Our freedoms and rights are under threat, genocides are being ignored, new wars loom, and the planet’s burning. All of that hits our bodies, our environment, our lives. It’s pure violence.”
His inspirations stretch wide — bands like Thou, Uniform, Scalp, Xiao, Regional Justice Center, Chat Pile, Agriculture, Sorcerer, Bad Breeding, Goon, High Vis, and Mannequin Pussy. “Why should people listen to them? Why not—they’re just really fucking good!”
For now, Split is still a new band, with no myths or misconceptions trailing them yet. “So far, I think people and the media have really understood what we’re about,” Marvin says. What he hopes for next is simple: “Hopefully we’ll have another record out and still be playing shows. That alone would be perfect.” The stage, he adds, is where everything makes sense.
Asked what he’d demand from the scene for 2026, he doesn’t hesitate: “Open-mindedness, inclusivity, and respect. That’d already be a great start.”
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Split will bring “Violence Breeds Violence” to the stage across France this fall, including shows with Coilguns and Beurre, and festival dates in Niort, Troyes, and Évreux — the kind of rooms where noise and honesty still carry the same weight.
