Formed in 2022 in Los Angeles by vocalist/guitarist Evan Whitford, Suspended in Cobwebs emerged from the ashes of Psychoward, a high school-era project that leaned into cinematic punk and ended abruptly when Whitford’s collaborator Jordan relocated. Suspended in Cobwebs took the experimentation further—leaning on chaos, dense layering, and narrative imagery. Their debut EP Pig Debris dropped on October 4, 2024, featuring four genre-bending tracks that now serve as a foundation for an upcoming full-length re-recording.
Despite no label support, the band—now a duo with drummer Josh Columbus—has seen early traction, with Pig Debris crossing 6,000 streams in its first few months. The project has drawn comparisons to Mr. Bungle, At the Drive-In, and Fear Before the March of Flames. Sputnik reviewer Brabiz summed it up as “a weird af metal-tinged take on the Fear Before The March of Flames,” noting the Adam Fisher-like vocals, bursts of dissonance, and unorthodox textures.
The band’s live presence has centered around local venues like The Smell, where they’ve built a consistent following, and smaller all-ages spaces like ArtBarLA before its closure. Whitford’s commitment to the DIY scene remains strong, even as he experiments with increasingly layered and demanding studio work. “DIY needs to get more complicated,” he says. “The American sound has no limits.”
While the songs are intentionally off-kilter, they’re not without structure or concept. “Salute!” uses a Viennese trichord to introduce dissonance that isn’t just musical—it’s political. “The album concept talks about the intertwinement between politics and sex crimes,” Whitford explains, citing Trump, Epstein, and Diddy as cultural touchpoints that shaped his lyrical worldview. “It’s not a shock value sort of thing. I intended for multiple dimensions from the start.”
The next phase of Suspended in Cobwebs is already underway. The upcoming debut album will rework Pig Debris material with more speed, clarity, and human performance. “I don’t want to be programming any parts,” Whitford explains. “Most everything should be organic in the sense of being thoughtfully recorded in a real life space.”
Below, Evan Whitford opens up in detail about lyric rewrites, chaotic visuals, political ambiguity, sound design, live show plans, and upcoming LA bands worth hearing. Read the full interview for insights into his approach to dissonance, collaboration with Ulrich Krieger, plans for a maximalist LP, and why Alice in Wonderland still lingers in the band’s conceptual DNA.
Also, Suspended In Cobwebs is participating in this year’s America’s Top Hitmaker competition. They are currently 2nd place in their group. The voting link is here.
View this post on Instagram
You started SUSPENDED IN COBWEBS after the short-lived run of PSYCHOWARD—what was the emotional charge behind that pivot? Did it feel like closing a door or more like burning down the house?
A mixture of both, maybe as if someone aggressively slammed the door shut. I’ve seen Jordan go through a lot over the years, and some crazy stuff happened while we were together in the project. He was pretty dead set on moving out of Los Angeles completely, so that met with our differentiating artistic goals sort of meant we had to put it to rest. That is at least in the sense of it being my primary songwriting outlet. I always wanted my first band to be the one that worked out but that can’t always be the case. But if we ever reprise that project it’ll probably sound like us having fun and being goofy more than trying to express any pressing emotions or statements. I think Psychoward was evident of the tug between bubblegum punk like Grilled Cheese (Edwin’s Song) and visual cinematic stuff like Beyond The Cellar Door.
That’s fine though, Jordan is talented in all sorts of styles and I think he does miss playing metal and punk to an extent. When he leads, it sounds more jam band and jazz rock adjacent. I actually mixed a single for his short lived Boston based group Coney Island. I’m not sure if that will reach the light of day though, since that band definitely ended abruptly and without resolution. Dylan, the bass player of that group is a great friend and super cool dude too. I wish them both the best in whatever is next for them individually.
There’s something chaotic and visual about this band—was that part of the intention from day one, or did the weirdness creep in naturally?
I grew up into visual art, animation, cinema, video games. I used to draw a lot throughout elementary school but at one point sort of stopped. Weirdness inspires me every day. I remember some people thought Psychoward was sort of weird, or “carnivalesque”. I can see it but I felt like I wasn’t really trying to shock anyone with that, at least compared to how Suspended In Cobwebs wants to explore taboo off the bat. Even references to violence and whatever in Black Lagoon, Inc., it’s much more playful. Has a sort of Beastie Boys and Misfits sort of humor. Music has so much narrative potential we take for granted, because ear worms are profitable. So a healthy mediation between the two always interested me. But my selling point off the bat was to make music nobody was going to make, and immediately establish a distinct identity.
When you were messing with the Viennese trichord in “Salute!,” were you aiming for dissonance as a statement, or were you just chasing sound without overthinking it?
My brain thinks hitting the right notes can be a cop out sometimes. Wrong notes sound so cool. We hear them less often than the right notes. But I can also comment on the historical implications of dissonance, though I’m always learning. The last 30 years of heavy metal and (post) hardcore proved dissonance and chromaticism has a place in popular music. It started in early blues/rock, but I think there’s collective interest over the years on what exactly the limit is in terms of the inclusion of dissonance. Feed that through stage shaking amps, you’ve got quite a scary sound. The Salute! opening riff works because the voice leading is distinct. Usually rock players just move power chords around, I just wanted to wait until the pre chorus to start doing that.
Do you feel like Pig Debris is secretly a guitar record in disguise? The solos aren’t exactly trendy, but they feel deliberate—like you’re trying to reintroduce drama into the post-hardcore formula.
Brian May said something about how a solo should continue the story being told by the singer. I think that’s how it works on Pig Debris, and probably a lot of my writing. But it is probably more of an electric guitar centric record, more than anything.
There’s a thread of theory-nerd energy in your writing—do you ever feel torn between technical curiosity and just bashing out noise until something sticks?
Writing is so situational. There’s lots of great music that couldn’t care less about how good their theory is. Time is the canvas and there’s lots of ways you can occupy it. Doesn’t have to be through theory, it could be rhythms, textures, timbres, beats. I don’t think that really has an end and I hope to explore that further.
You mentioned that you rewrite your lyrics “to death.” What’s the moment when you know you’ve gone far enough, and when do you start to feel like you’re killing the vibe?
Being too clear or to the point is a turnoff for me. Life isn’t full of answers, in fact we have endless questions to face now politically and morally and spiritually et cetera. I often rewrite to make things more visual and elaborate. Too far would probably result in phrasings coming across unapproachable or unrelatable though.
“Salute!” is packed with taboo and excess—was it more about provoking the listener or purging something personal?
I think the album concept talks about the intertwinement between politics and sex crimes. There’s a lot of lyrics I have written for the record that often deliberately place those two things in the same world. I think it’s reactionary to the age of Trump, Epstein, Diddy, you name it. So I’d say it’s not a shock value sort of thing, I intended for multiple dimensions from the start.
You mentioned it’s a political song—how do you balance being angry at the system without falling into preachiness or the cliché trap?
A good political song is well spoken and often sort of funny. Some all-time great political rock songs like Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine or Prison Song by System Of A Down prioritize bluntness in the sake of urgency. None of my songs really do that, I think they are designed to be analyzed and nitpicked by dedicated listeners. None of the politics in Suspended In Cobwebs comes across as political slogans.
How do you personally process when people compare your music to MCR or AT THE DRIVE-IN? Do those comparisons open doors for you or put you in a box you don’t want?
I am the sort of guy that would rather listen to those bands than most others, so it’s flattering. But at the end of the day I hope it’s going to sound like Suspended In Cobwebs. I probably prefer it instead of saying I sound like bands I never heard of before. First time I heard of (Hed) P.E. was someone saying Pigs In A Blanket reminded him of them. But I don’t think people will know what to really do with categorizing us on the LP. It will refuse to stay in one place.
You’ve got this ability to write lyrics that feel both abstract and pointed. Who taught you how to smuggle real pain into surreal images?
It’s probably in the art of dynamics somewhere. I think a master at that was the late David Lynch, and his work definitely recognizes dynamics between the emotional, funny, and outright bizarre as he told stories. Even his most disturbing works had hilarious moments that countered it. It’s never a black and white balance. It’s always been therapeutic to write pain I’ve experienced into my writing. Even when I think it’s corny, I find ways to weave it in a way that doesn’t bug me. A lot of that involves combating the blatant with the surreal.
Let’s talk “Peninsulan Plagues.” You leaned into pirate punk and sea shanties—what the hell inspired that rabbit hole?
A fair amount of interest in AFI, Ween, Spongebob, and some YouTube rabbit holes. Also theory curiosity. I love asking myself these questions. How does music sound like it’s from a certain part of the world, time period, et cetera. It’s all a toolkit with an infinite possibility of what ifs. The song’s primarily a political song disguised as a punk rock sea shanty. A lot of the shanty elements came from things like the harmony and recurring triplets. Parallel fifths too, pirates had no classical training so they weren’t really working in thirds.
Was the “Drunken Sailor” nod just a wink, or was it part of building a bigger conceptual thread?
It happened once live and stuck in our sets, where we play Drunken Sailor into Peninsulan Plagues to point out the parallel in the harmony. I like that it’s sort of an intuitive piece for many. It’s short and catchy and easy to sing. If you watched Spongebob, and you probably did if you’re near my age, it was drilled in your brain. It takes your brain to the sort of world I wanted to establish.
When you say this track is about false leadership—especially through the lens of COVID and the Trump era—did you worry about the message aging too quickly, or is that kind of the point?
I don’t think it has aged too quickly at all. Look at the situation with Trump’s current term or tech giants benefitting off of lying to people. Sure it’s about COVID, but that’s only one of the layers. The pirate analogy reinforces this is a timeless issue that only adapts to the tech.
How do you process political rage creatively without letting it take over the music?
Building a decent vocabulary helps. I think the LP will tread the line between clearly political whilst simultaneously surreal. I like ambiguous language, it feels honest and sincere. People are never straight forward all the time anyway.
You’ve mentioned building the songs in obsessive layers, especially guitars. How do you stop yourself from overproducing to the point of paralysis?
Eventually Ableton sessions run out of CPU and sessions are massive and hard to tame. That definitely influenced me wrapping Pig Debris up when I did. When tracking Peninsulan Plagues I actually discarded a bunch of guitar layers I was unhappy with. It took a few times to curate everything.
Recording vocals seems to be physically intense for you—do you have any rituals or methods that help channel that energy without burning out?
I like recording vocals in short blurbs, it’s not worth it to sing for 5 hours straight like doing guitars. There’s a lot of physical movement going on from my end, my vocal coach Søren Sedit from RMS Vocal Institute recommended making over the top hand gestures and stuff while recording vocals. Lots of water, tea about halfway through, make sure your engineer is also trying to get the best of you.
There’s this wild clash in your sound—DIY grit meets almost orchestral planning. How do you keep that balance from collapsing under its own weight?
A lot of the ideas are overlaid and overdubbed over a more foundational rhythm track. On Peninsulan Plagues, the electric rhythm guitar is the backbone that the harmonized melodies and such work in relationship with. I believe DIY needs to get more complicated though, especially in the local Los Angeles scene. The American sound has no limits.
Let’s get into “The Final Nail In The Coffin.” It’s got that classic thrash energy but with your usual twist—how did that song evolve from its PSYCHOWARD roots?
Psychoward’s version was super bare bones. It sounded a lot like a Metallica wannabe with some Norwegian black metal influence, but the clean bridge came about when I was unhappy with how abrupt the vocals ended after the second chorus. The first time Psychoward played it was at The Whisky A Go Go. It was a rough show, between underselling it and the unreusable theatrics. The song developed in a more twisted direction, when I became interested in how metal can push the grain and embrace stylistic ambiguity. The song resulted in both embracing tradition and the unexpected.
That bridge section feels like a film scene—was “Night on Bald Mountain” always in your head, or did the cinematic vibe appear on its own?
It was a reference more than anything. I think the song riffs on bald mountain moreso prior to the bridge. It’s a pretty evil scene. It is insane that it’s from a Disney movie. That studio does not make them like they used to. Hell and the devil as a concept is so interpretable though. Everyone has a different definition of it anyway. I think the bridge was meant to diverge in imagery a little bit, but it still deals with this nightmarish boogeyman type character.
Ulrich Krieger’s sax parts bring in a kind of avant-garde chaos—how did that collaboration happen and what were you hoping to extract from him?
I met Ulrich when I began studying music at CalArts. Off the bat he proved to be naturally knowledgeable and passionate for music as an art and medium. We agree on a lot of things about extreme metal and punk rock, one of which being metal could be played on any instrument; including the almighty saxophone. I was developing the songs for the EP as well as some that have not gone public yet, and he initially made suggestions like extending the intro to The Final Nail In The Coffin. Eventually he added to the project off semester. He gave me a few passes to work with and I ended up blending a few. I left the guidelines open, and I really loved how violent the solo takes sounded. His body of work on saxophone is so extensive and eclectic, and in my opinion he is a true master of his instrument. I can’t imagine the track without his performance.
Have you ever thought of structuring a live show like a short film, with movements instead of just a setlist? Your sound seems built for it.
Right now the live shows are pretty reliant on my guitar and tuning changes. I wouldn’t be opposed though, the live concert experience has lots of possibilities.
“Pigs In A Blanket” is a weird standout—a loony, operatic piece tied to Lewis Carroll. What made you want to revisit the Duchess chapter specifically?
My brain came up with this premise in this contemporary rock opera spin on Alice In Wonderland would reinterpret the Duchess as this politically brainwashed type character. That is honestly how the song ties into the Suspended In Cobwebs album concept. It ties into the corrupt leader themes on songs Salute! or Peninsulan Plagues.
How much of that rock opera concept is still alive in your head? Would you actually come back to it?
The Alice In Wonderland thing could happen down the road. It would be an expensive and elaborate project. The concept for the debut LP is very clear but it’s also exhausting to write for. It’s so dark and violent and bleak lyrically. Maybe upsetting to some.
The textures on that track are ridiculous—circus organs, harpsichords, timpani. Was it a conscious move toward maximalism or just following instinct?
There was lots of interest to deliberately challenge the rock/metal arrangement with Pigs In A Blanket. I’m always pushing Suspended In Cobwebs towards maximalism, though. I love it when songs have lots of elements.
When that song unexpectedly went viral, especially in Brazil, did it feel ironic to you considering how anti-commercial the production was?
Very, especially with the assault on the senses finale. It’s so scary yet sugary.
You’ve mentioned Spotify playlist culture helped, even though you don’t use Spotify much yourself. What’s your relationship to digital platforms and the way people discover music now?
The model right now is dominated by tech CEOs and not artists or musicians. Although I am guilty of streaming on Apple Music, I keep a vinyl collection of records I find special. Some people blind buy records but I often gravitate towards buying albums I already know pretty well. But without a doubt, there needs to be political action within the streaming world or billionaires will continue to steal from working class artists.
Do you think artists are writing differently now because they expect to be consumed in 30-second clips?
100%. Same with advertising to an extent, actually. The internet has tarnished everyone’s attention spans significantly.
If Pig Debris felt like a first wave—what are you trying to correct or expand upon in the re-recorded full-length?
Pig Debris had lots of trial and error in the recording process, and lots of lessons were learned on the technical side of things. I overall have a better idea of what worked and what I would approach differently. Most of the Pig Debris re-recordings will be a bit faster. Hopefully it’s also produced cleaner, but it will likely continue to tread the line between organized and (DIY) chaos.
You’ve said you want to avoid MIDI and lean into human performances—what does “human” mean to you in the context of aggressive, distorted, sometimes surreal music?
I don’t want to be programming any parts. I want to record people playing parts on real instruments. Most everything should be organic in the sense of being thoughtfully recorded in a real life space.
Letting someone else mix your record feels like a huge shift. What made you decide to let go of that control?
I am hoping I can get a real master to mix the record. Not certain who it’ll be but I have ideas. I am planning to produce everything more extensively to compensate. My goal is to get everything to sound great naturally through appropriate mics and pre-amps before mixing and sculpting.
Your live shows at The Smell and ArtBarLA have become kind of a recurring thread. What keeps drawing you back to those spaces?
The ArtBar happened twice but the venue shut down recently. Providing all ages shows to the community is super important, so I have always loved The Smell’s mission to provide that to Downtown Los Angeles. They are also among the fairest venues in the area. It’s certainly not one of the sunset venues these days.
What kind of audiences do you feel most seen by when you play live?
I love playing for audiences who love the art of live music just as much as me. Also concert goers that start the mosh pit first.
Do you prefer playing with bands who sound similar, or are you more into chaotic genre clashes?
Nothing against shows with other post-hardcore and metal bands. I’m here for it. But great artists write like themselves regardless of genre, which is why I love leaning into odder curations. I’m pretty open minded to the sort of acts we play shows with, though. I love to try combinations out.
View this post on Instagram
Any recent shows that made you walk away thinking “damn, I gotta up my game”?
As of shows I’ve caught in 2025, Clipping is always mind shattering because Daveed is a lighting fire rapper. So articulate and well spoken and humorous and nerdy. So much to love about his frontmanship. I couldn’t pull off what he does nearly as well, but not too many guitarists that have put me in my place as of late. I saw the classic death metal group Atheist earlier in the year though, and everyone in that band is an amazing instrumentalist.
You hinted at playing with artists across different styles this summer—any names you’re especially psyched to share a stage with?
Brian O’Neill’s groups, Eroica and Fünderguns and The Monkey King. Fünderguns and The Monkey King was supposed to play at The Mint with Suspended In Cobwebs last January, but the show was cancelled due to the devastating LA Fires. They ended up playing in my backyard to a couple of people that night, but I can’t wait to hear them play a set at the rescheduled Mint show.
Who are some LA-based artists—across any genre—you think people should be paying more attention to in 2025?
I really hope Fünderguns and The Monkey King release another recording soon. I know they have a bunch of material they need to track. I hope they put together an LP or something because they have the songs for it.
Mules Band also put out a great debut single and I think they’ll be putting more stuff out.
I’m also looking forward to the new recordings from Thoughts Of David, whenever that comes out.
Lastly, LA psych-folk group Microplastics is also cooking some material up that I’m looking forward to hearing when completed.
And what’s the weirdest, most unexpectedly good band you’ve stumbled upon lately?
I’m thinking of a lot of solo artists like Dave Blunts, Weird Paul, or Ten Headed Skeleton, all of which surpassed whatever expectation I had of them. However, I am not sure about bands. A lot of great weird stuff like The Paper Chase and Pensées Nocturnes, I found a little while ago.
Outside of music, what feeds your creativity? Films, books, conversations, any strange habits?
There’s a good chance people know me as a longtime Letterboxd user. My following seems to be the most substantial there. I joined at the end of grade school and have basically everything I’ve ever seen documented. It’s got the obvious social element but it’s also history to me. I see great films that move like music, and great directors know this.
So I think my ethos is that great music should feel like films. I think I want to be like a Stanley Kubrick of heavy metal in some way. Animation also influences Suspended In Cobwebs, especially when it is aimed towards adults. Some of my favorite artists of all time are Don Hertzfeldt and Adam Elliot, two distinct animators and filmmakers whose work is soul touching and could shatter a young child’s emotions.
If you weren’t doing SUSPENDED IN COBWEBS, what do you think you’d be making right now? Still music, or something entirely different?
Maybe I’d be doing more film work, but I professionally gravitate towards recorded and live music because I like the aspect that it unifies people of all sorts of backgrounds in real time. Getting affected by a really good movie is my other favorite experience though. The people who make those lasting effect sort of works are sort of my other idols. Rock bands and film directors, generally.
Those people make life great. I wouldn’t be a musician if I wasn’t such a geek about music, pop culture, art, cinema, you name it. It all cross influences. I’ve done some odd film gigs. I acted in a short film in Kansas City called Pizza Face that had a film festival premiere over there. I have also done oddball projects here and there, some more successful than others.
You’ve talked about layered production and surreal lyrics—do you ever sketch things out visually before recording?
Not particularly. It’s all in the writing process for lyrics. The layered production could have notes I’ve written up and there is pre planning.
Would you ever want to direct your own music video in the same chaotic aesthetic that your songs live in?
That’s the plan if the album doesn’t go over budget. I have some ideas for a Pigs In A Blanket video that I sketched but it’s still in draft mode. I would love to work with talented filmmakers, but I’d also like a Suspended In Cobwebs video to be my first shot at directing something. The videos are likely only going to make the songs scarier.
If Pig Debris was a short film, what would it look like? Lo-fi VHS nightmare? Glossy surrealist horror? Puppet musical?
If the Pigs In A Blanket video shapes up I’d love to do an Alice In Wonderland meets Begotten or Trash Humpers sort of thing. But each song deserves its own treatment because the 4 tracks on Pig Debris are noticeably varied from each other.
Lastly—what’s the hardest part about being a deeply DIY band in LA in 2025? And what keeps you going?
Booking anything, especially when local venues think metal and punk is too loud for their space. Getting in contact with the right people is a never ending pursuit. I’m always learning about who throws what event, how they operate, and how I can contact them about my project. I expect Suspended In Cobwebs will only advance from a branding perspective, and that self promotion isn’t a permanent thing. What keeps me going is knowing my music art can long outlive me depending on the amount of work I put in during my lifetime.
View this post on Instagram
