Santa Cruz’s very own hardcore and punk phenomenon, SCOWL, has been off to the races ever since their 2019 genesis when they released a self-titled demo, as well as an encore EP, Reality After Reality, within the same year. Vocalist/Lead Kat Moss, guitarist Malachi Green, bassist Bailey Lupo, and drummer Cole Gilbert collectively spent the majority of 2020 crafting their debut LP, How Flowers Grow, and went on to join Flatspot Records’ roster earlier this spring
They have since dropped two music videos for the singles “Bloodhound,” and “Seeds to Sow” – both directed by Malachi – to promote the album’s November 2021 release. TThere’s a blissful buzz going around about the quad locally and internationally. To prove it, they’re kickstarting 2022 with a European tour alongside Comeback Kid, Be Well, and Devil In Me.
In an interview with Kat, we discussed the everyday side effects of being in a band, what rules she’s proud of herself for breaking, and how she keeps herself grounded.
The following poem is dedicated to Scowl:
I am a seed that’s terrified of tomorrow. Yesterday has betrayed me and refuses to admit to such abrasive abandonment. I am expected to cooperate in the midst of this chaotic catastrophe! I’ve been neglected with no explanation to tranquilize my sorrow. My loneliness is lazy and lustful. I am at risk for incredulous emptiness. I don’t know where to go or who to be. I am worthy of worthlessness. I want to disappear. I want instant gratification. I want validation. I want an apology. I want pity.
I am a root that desires revenge on tomorrow. Its false freedoms fool me every time. I am spiraling and the rain’s emotional unavailability is to blame. My darkness is devastating. My paranoia is powerful. My stamina is stagnant. My rage is ruthless. I have an intolerable capacity for integrity. I fear the phantoms of the future. Perhaps it would be productive to wither away. I feel defeated. I feel guilty. I feel exhausted. I feel ashamed.
I am a stem that has curated a cautious curiosity concerning tomorrow. My failures have fractured my foresight. My ego has yet to evaporate. I’m out of luck for enthusiasm because I’m in a garden and I am not spectacular. My envy is extravagant. My instincts invite insecurity. I am grand with grief for the life I thought I would have by now. What if to survive is to pretend? What if to laugh is to lie? What if to exist is to distort?
I am a leaf that daydreams about tomorrow. At night, my hope lies in the stars. I have a habit of marveling at the hypnotic horizon and its mirific hues. I’ve invented an intention to methodically mention gratitude. I forgave the ladybugs for not being aware of the pain they were causing me and forgave myself for believing I deserved it. Am I the harmony I notice in the mountains? Am I the symphony I notice in the ocean?
Today, I am a plethora of petals and imperfection. I release all calendar critiques. The sky is a cyan cinema. The trees are tremendous, terrific, and turbulent. The wind is my choreographer. The fouls of the air guide my gaze. I am lovable. My youth is eternal. The clouds are animated answers. The butterflies compliment my bravery. I was always enough.
Watch the full interview Precious Tucker had with Scowl here: