“You can replicate a sound. You can’t replicate the people and the history that created it.”
There is something uniquely powerful about a heavy band that understands that volume alone isn’t what makes music hit hard. For Fabricate, heaviness is a language that’s capable of expressing grief, anger, uncertainty, resilience, solidarity, and everything that exists between those emotions. Their latest releases, “No Mercy” and “Death Throes,” showcases two very different sides of the band while revealing a group that has become increasingly willing to challenge its own creative boundaries.
Originally formed in Florida before relocating to Ohio, Fabricate have experienced the kind of changes that can easily derail a band. Geographic distance, changing routines, personal sacrifices, and the realities of maintaining relationships across states have all tested the group. Yet instead of allowing those challenges to weaken their foundation, Fabricate found themselves becoming more focused, more accountable, and ultimately more connected to the music they were creating. Their current chapter is therefore about more than two new songs. It is about discovering what Fabricate sounds like when they stop worrying about what a heavy band is supposed to sound like. And perhaps most importantly, it is about understanding why the heaviness exists in the first place.
“Death Throes”: Confronting the Unknown
“Death Throes asks what that chaos might feel like from the inside.”
Few subjects are more difficult to translate into music than death. It is an experience that everyone understands conceptually but one that remains impossible for the living to fully comprehend. Fabricate’s “Death Throes” embraces that uncertainty rather than attempting to resolve it. The song examines those final seconds of life and the questions that remain when someone takes their last breath. Members of the band have experienced abrupt deaths, including moments where they were physically present during someone’s final moments. Those experiences became part of the emotional foundation of the song. Rather than presenting death as something peaceful or cinematic, Fabricate explore the uncomfortable reality surrounding it.
What does someone feel? Are they afraid? Are they confused? Do they experience peace? What happens when consciousness begins to slip away? Those questions aren’t answered and that is precisely the point. A recurring image within the song is the “pale white horse,” representing death arriving and the transition from one existence into whatever comes next. The uncertainty surrounding that moment becomes the emotional engine of the track.
“Fear, confusion, grief, acceptance, maybe even peace.”
The breakdown at the end of “Death Throes” takes all of those emotions and forces them into one collapsing moment. Instead of functioning simply as another opportunity for the song to become heavier, the breakdown represents everything that cannot be neatly expressed through words. That distinction is important. Fabricate aren’t using heaviness to hide emotion. They’re using heaviness to expose it.
When Grief Refuses to Be One Emotion
One of the most compelling elements of “Death Throes” is that Fabricate refuse to define grief as a single emotional state. The song was written collectively, with each member bringing different perspectives and experiences to the subject. Guitarist Kevin’s experience of losing his uncle and being present during his final breaths became one particularly significant influence. That experience contained contradictory emotions anger, sadness, grief, and even relief knowing that suffering had ended. Those emotions don’t always make sense together, but grief rarely does.
“Grief isn’t always just sadness, and death isn’t always just fear.”
That complexity gives “Death Throes” a level of emotional honesty that goes beyond simply writing a song about death. Fabricate are attempting to capture the psychological chaos surrounding it. There is no clean beginning and ending to those feelings. They overlap. They contradict each other. They change from one moment to the next. And the band allowed that messiness to remain intact.
Learning That Heaviness Isn’t Enough
Interestingly, “Death Throes” almost became an entirely different song. The original version had no clean vocals. It was heavy from beginning to end, which initially felt natural for Fabricate, but producer Matthew Marquez of Norma Jean challenged them to reconsider what the song actually needed. His criticism was uncomfortable, but necessary. The song was about something deeply emotional and vulnerable, yet the band had surrounded that emotion with so much heaviness that the feeling itself was getting lost. That realization changed their approach.
Instead of asking how they could make the song heavier, they began asking how they could make the listener feel it. Clean vocals became part of that process. Certain sections were given room to breathe. Guitar leads were reconsidered. The band began understanding that restraint could actually make the aggressive moments more powerful.
“Being heavy can grab someone’s attention, but emotion is what can make them remember the song.”
That lesson extends far beyond “Death Throes.” It represents a shift in how Fabricate approach songwriting altogether.
“No Mercy”: A Different Kind of Heavy
If “Death Throes” is about looking inward, “No Mercy” is Fabricate looking directly outward. The song carries an aggressive title, but its purpose isn’t simply confrontation. At its core, “No Mercy” is about solidarity standing beside friends, family, and people who may not always have a voice of their own. The band’s message is aimed at hate, complacency, and the attitudes that allow people to be treated as less than because of their identity or background. For Fabricate, remaining silent isn’t neutrality. It’s something worth challenging.
“Even if something isn’t your fight personally, that doesn’t mean you can’t stand beside the person fighting it.”
That philosophy gives the aggression behind “No Mercy” a purpose. The song isn’t angry simply because anger sounds powerful. The anger comes from a belief that some things deserve to be confronted. Heavy music has historically provided a space for people to process uncomfortable subjects, and Fabricate see that tradition as an opportunity to make their music mean something beyond the mosh pit.
Two Songs, Two Statements
Although “No Mercy” and “Death Throes” weren’t deliberately written as chapters of one larger story, the band recognizes that they now feel connected.
“‘No Mercy’ was us reestablishing who we are. ‘Death Throes’ was us showing where we can go next.”
That distinction tells you a lot about where Fabricate currently stand. “No Mercy” arrived as a declaration. After relocating, the band faced questions about whether they would continue and whether they could maintain the momentum they’d built. Instead of answering those questions through explanation, they answered them through music. They were still here. And they weren’t interested in simply recreating what they’d already done.
“Death Throes” took that idea further. The band had already demonstrated that they could be heavy. Now they wanted to prove that heaviness wasn’t the limit of what they could do. Atmosphere. Dynamics. Clean vocals. Emotion. Space. All of those elements could exist alongside the aggression that had already become part of Fabricate’s identity.
The Matthew Marquez Effect
Working with Matthew Marquez became another important part of that evolution. Fabricate describe him as someone who recognized their passion and open-mindedness early on, while also understanding that there was more potential within their songwriting that needed to be shaped. His contribution wasn’t about transforming Fabricate into another band.
It was about helping them understand themselves better. One of the biggest lessons came from recognizing that a collection of great riffs doesn’t automatically create a great song. Every section needs a purpose. Every transition should contribute to the story. Every musical decision should make the listener feel something.
“It’s not enough to string together a bunch of great riffs. Where is the song going?”
That mentality changed how Fabricate approach’s songwriting. They began thinking less about individual moments and more about the complete journey. Marquez effectively taught them to stop thinking about one chapter and start thinking about the entire book.
Leaving Florida and Finding Home in Ohio
Fabricate’s relocation from Florida to Ohio could have easily become the end of the story. Instead, it became the beginning of another one. Florida remains an important part of the band’s history. It was where Fabricate started, where relationships were formed, and where the band’s earliest identity developed.
But guitarist Kevin’s desire to return to Ohio eventually brought the entire group north. Initially, not everyone was convinced. Kevin would talk about the Ohio scene and the differences between the Midwest and Florida, and the rest of the band weren’t always sold on the idea. Then came their first Ohio show. It sold out. That moment helped change the band’s perspective.
The Midwest didn’t simply provide Fabricate with new venues. It gave them a community and a competitive environment that pushed them to become better. The band’s relationship with groups like Death Hex illustrates that perfectly. Friends can still be competitors when they share a stage, and Fabricate embrace that dynamic. They don’t want their friends to fail. They want their friends to push them harder. And then they want to return the favor.
There Is No Formula for Fabricate
In a scene filled with heavy bands, Fabricate aren’t claiming to have discovered some secret formula. In fact, their answer is almost the opposite. What makes them different isn’t a specific tuning, guitar tone, breakdown, or vocal style. It’s the people behind those things.
“Nobody has to ‘win.’ The song has to win.”
That philosophy allows the band members to challenge one another without turning songwriting into a competition for control. Someone can bring in a riff. Someone else can completely reshape it. A vocal idea can change the emotional direction. Then they can enter the studio and discover that the entire thing needs to become something else. For Fabricate, that isn’t failure. That’s songwriting. Their willingness to let the song evolve has become one of their greatest strengths.
The Human Being Beneath the Breakdown
Fabricate aren’t interested in proving how heavy they can be. They love filthy riffs. They love disgusting breakdowns. But those elements mean more when the listener has been given a reason to care. That is ultimately what connects “No Mercy” and “Death Throes.”
One deals with standing up for others. The other confronts mortality and the unknowable experience of death. Both begin with a human emotion. The heaviness comes afterward.
“Heaviness doesn’t always come from distortion, screaming, or how low you can tune a guitar.”
That perspective could become one of the defining characteristics of Fabricate’s next era. They’re no longer interested in putting themselves into a box simply because something worked previously. If a clean vocal serves the song, they’ll use it. If a breakdown serves the story, they’ll use that too. If an idea makes them uncomfortable creatively but ultimately makes the song stronger, that’s exactly the kind of idea worth exploring.
“Then They Can Learn Our Name.”
Perhaps the most telling moment of the entire conversation comes when Fabricate describe what they want a first-time listener to take away from their music. Not a genre label. Not a breakdown. Not even necessarily the band’s name. They want the listener to feel something.
“At the end of the day, we want someone who knows absolutely nothing about Fabricate to finish a song and think, ‘I felt that.’ Then they can learn our name.”
That statement perfectly captures the band’s current philosophy.
Fabricate have experienced change. They’ve experienced loss. They’ve left one home and built another. They’ve had to learn how to create with less time together. They’ve challenged their own songwriting instincts and allowed themselves to explore parts of their sound that once felt uncomfortable. Yet through all of that, one thing remains consistent: They want the music to mean something.
And perhaps that is why their evolution feels so natural. They aren’t abandoning their heaviness.
They’re giving it a reason to exist. Fabricate’s story isn’t simply about becoming a heavier band. It’s about discovering that vulnerability can hit harder than aggression, that distance can strengthen connection, and that the most memorable music isn’t necessarily the music that hits the hardest; it is the music that leaves something behind.
“You can replicate a sound. You can’t replicate the people and the history that created it.”
For Fabricate, that history is now embedded in every riff, every vocal, every breakdown, and every moment of silence between them. They’ve found their home. They’ve found their voice. And they’re only beginning to discover how far that voice can go.
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