In September 2003 Death by Stereo endured the most tumultuous event a band could fathom. During a show at the Solar Haus in Blacksburg, Virginia, Daniel Martin plunged two stories to his death, sending the band into a period of mourning and confusion. To darken the already black times, the band learned that they had been named in a multi-million dollar lawsuit filed by Martin’s family.
But this is after all, Death by Stereo, they wrote a song about the incident entitled “Forget Regret,” expressing all the confusion, fear, sadness and tension they experienced over the loss. Oh yeah, they also wrote a few other bone-crushing ditties, culminating in their most diverse sounding and most meticulously crafted album to date, Death for Life.
To ensure the band would see its finest work come to fruition they enlisted the production duo known as the Factory, a.k.a. Fred Archambault and Bruce MacFarlane (Avenged Sevenfold, Eighteen Visions). The result is a shinier and wiser version of the Death by Stereo machine. Don’t fret, they still have the pummeling double kicks and shredding guitar fireworks, and front-man Efrem Shulz still shifts from screech to croon more effortlessly than ever, they just happen to be more introspective and more insightful in their punk-metal-core approach, they even serve up their first ever ballad, “Forever and a Day.”
This is their fourth album and they’ve got legal matters to deal with, so let em’ have the ballad, I hope it proves to be a crossover, rock radio hit for them. They’ve earned it.
www.deathbystereo.com
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Michael Davis –Michael was kicked out of a Nepalese monastery at age seven (the chosen educational destination for notable aristocrats such as John Pierre, heir to the Lego empire, and Harlem Globetrotter great, Meadowlark Lemon). Forced to live and breathe off of his own dim-wits, he trekked form city to city eating only cheese and his own fingernails. He is a poor student and cannot adhere to a deadline to save his life. He displays the writing skills of a wombat, and has the creativity of a sunflower. His slower than molasses typing is that of a child and his odor is downright appalling. Other than that he is a joy to be around.
