Dead Cross emerged out of a series of unlikely happenstance, fallen-through plans, and last-minute musical experimentation. Schemed up in the LA recording studio of Ross Robinson, Michael Crain, Justin Pearson, and Dave Lombardo initially concocted the idea of a collaboration with only weeks to go before what would be their first shows. Shows which were, by the way, essentially scheduled even before the band’s full formation—before it was even named, and without a shred of material written, in fact. This, a testament to the well-established musicianship of the members, as well as the faith humans are willing to put into a (Dead) Cross. Within a day or two, Gabe Serbian was enlisted on vocals, and thus its official inception was haphazardly born. In weeks, the four furiously fused strengths and styles to create a set’s worth of material, and soon after, an LP’s worth.
The chaos of its creation seems apt; after all, the band is comprised entirely of artists who have always thrived playing tightly-coiled turmoil—intelligent dissonance disguised as disorder. The impressive, expansive, and eclectic menagerie of prior bands members have played in (Slayer, The Locust, Head Wound City, Festival of Dead Deer, Fantomas, Retox, Cattle Decapitation, Zu, and the list goes on) would be enough to make this quite apparent, but isn’t necessary once you’ve heard Dead Cross’s music. It is evil vocals, manic guitar riffs, severe rhythm. It is driven, if not downright possessed. Though the band is tempting to promote by way of references or nostalgia built upon work members have been associated with in the past, Dead Cross seeks instead to look forward, destroy and rebuild.