BLACK ATLANTIC | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW

Black Atlantic exists somewhere between memory and moonlight, where endless coastlines meet neon reflections and every shadow seems to carry a story of its own. Drawing heavily from the emotional weight of classic post-punk, darkwave and the defining sounds of the 1980s, Black Atlantic transforms personal battles, late-night reflections and years of internal noise into music that feels both deeply intimate and impossibly expansive.

What makes the project so compelling is that it isn't chasing nostalgia for nostalgia's sake. Beneath the dark atmospheres and cinematic textures lies something far more human: a lifelong search for clarity, peace and self-understanding. These songs aren't written from a distance. They're lived in. They carry the weight of feeling unseen, unheard and caught between opposing forces, while still searching for hope somewhere beyond the horizon.

In this interview, Black Atlantic opens up about the symbolism of oceans and darkness, the therapeutic power of creation, the influence of artists like The Cure, and how music became more than a creative outlet—it became a lifeline.

TRACK REVIEW - Wildflower

Black Atlantic’s “Wildflower” wastes no time making an impression. Opening with a huge, driving riff, the track immediately establishes a sense of scale, with production and engineering that feel absolutely massive from the first few seconds. Every element has room to breathe while still hitting with incredible weight.

One of the standout moments comes in the chorus, where shimmering synths and guitars wrap themselves around the vocal melodies, creating a wall of sound that feels both cinematic and emotionally charged. The drum work is relentless, the riff is infectious, and the vocal melodies are some of the strongest we’ve heard in quite some time.

What makes “Wildflower” particularly compelling is the way it fuses seemingly different worlds together. There are flashes of electronic and drum-and-bass-inspired energy colliding with heavy guitar-driven rock, while the vocals sit right on the edge of something more aggressive, pushing towards a scream without ever fully crossing the line. That tension gives the song a constant sense of momentum.

Just when the track feels like it’s reached its peak, Black Atlantic pulls everything back for a brief and effective grand piano bridge. It’s a moment of reflection before launching into one final soaring chorus that delivers a powerful and satisfying finish.

“Wildflower” is a bold statement from Black Atlantic, blending heaviness, atmosphere and emotion into a track that feels equally at home on a late-night drive or blasting through festival speakers.

Facebook

Spotify

PRESS PHOTO

Your music feels like it belongs somewhere between an abandoned coastline and a neon-lit city at 2am. When creating Black Atlantic, were you chasing a sound, or trying to build an emotional world people could disappear into?

I think my life has really been one juxtaposition after another — caught between winning and pleasing, battling light and dark. A lot has been fairly bright, but unfortunately there’s been darkness along the way.

The ocean has always been very symbolic to me. It’s endless, but at night it can represent a colour deeper and darker than black. I think writing lyrics that “fight each other” can be liberating.

The sound of Black Atlantic is not unique; it’s reminiscent of those tracks I grew up with that were deep, dark and defining of the time. The 80s sound made those experiences memorable, and much of my everyday playlists contain those same artists.

We grow up, but I’m not sure how much we really change.

There’s something fascinating about starting a project like this later in life, especially in genres often obsessed with youth and trends. Do you think becoming Black Atlantic at this stage made the music more fearless and emotionally honest?

It’s honest, yes, but I never thought or intended it to resonate with youth or any trend. It was just me having the time and desire to clear out the noise in my head.

I never thought this late in life I could experiment with music and have it give me more in return than what I actually created. Sure, it’s nice to know I have listeners, followers and something that’s mine to share, but I have been so jammed up with thoughts and feelings for much of my life with no creative outlet that I am now feeling the lightest I have felt in years.

Sounds selfish, I know, but I feel better in my own skin knowing I have Black Atlantic.

A lot of darkwave and post-punk revival acts recreate aesthetics perfectly but forget the emotional weight underneath them. What do you think artists like The Cure or Bauhaus understood emotionally that still feels missing from modern music?

I don’t think it’s fair to kick artists of the modern era in the teeth.

There are plenty of people taking refuge in their lyrics, new sounds and genres, and it’s saving listeners the same way music saved me.

Can youth relate to The Cure today? Absolutely. That defining sound and those dark lyrics shaped multiple generations, and as long as Robert Smith knows that, he will probably patiently keep connecting with listeners.

I just hope I am still around to hear the next great thing The Cure creates.

Tracks like Haunted and Falling From The Sky feel deeply cinematic, almost like scenes from films that don’t exist yet. Do your songs begin visually in your imagination before they become musical?

I pick very “noisy things” in my life that have occurred in some way, shape or form and spit them out in lyrical statements first.

From there, I figure out if there is something to really say or be told.

I think these tracks are more synonymous with how I am feeling in that moment, and I keep going until I get it all out.

Both these tracks show the pain of not being heard or seen. I know people can relate, but often these feelings can last what feels like a lifetime.

We try hard to be seen or heard, but being — or feeling — invisible is real and can create a lot of baggage to carry.

Your music balances beauty with tension constantly. Do you think people are more emotionally drawn to songs that leave them slightly unsettled rather than fully comforted?

Are we ever really settled?

Thank you for complimenting the balance of beauty and tension in what I am creating. It goes back to those juxtapositions I mentioned before.

I guess as time passed, it felt safe staying caught up in what we may regard as beautiful, while realising it can torment us at times.

Kind of a crazy way to live, don’t you think?

The name Black Atlantic itself feels symbolic — like isolation, depth, movement and danger all at once. What did that name come to represent for you personally?

If there is a darker colour than black, I would probably pick it as my favourite.

Don’t get me wrong, my life and what I am creating is not all about darkness.

There is something expansive in what I am creating through Black Atlantic, and if it’s dark at times, again, it’s just me caught up in a moment trying to get it all out.

Remember, I carry a lot of baggage, and late in life self-identifying with that and creating art has been liberating.

Black Atlantic for me should never end. It’s part of how I better cope with things now, and I mean it when I say it — music has always saved me from myself.

You mention “moody coastal landscapes” as inspiration, which feels very specific emotionally. What is it about oceans, coastlines and night environments that naturally pull darker songwriting out of you?

Oceans, to me, suggest possibilities when things feel overwhelming.

Coastlines are guardrails for life, and living within them is safer versus having no boundaries.

The nighttime is indeed dark, but when you are up through the night, it’s not as dark as it may first seem. We adjust, and then things become more visible.

That’s life. Give things time and patience, and things can get clearer.

I’ll keep writing about things I am feeling, and they will not always end up being dark. Some will contain hope, light and shine on what’s most important in the moment.

For many artists, streaming numbers are just statistics. But the way you describe these songs as almost “life-saving” suggests the project became much bigger than music itself. Did Black Atlantic end up healing parts of you that existed long before the project started?

I have fought an internal battle nearly all my life. It’s best described today as mental health.

It’s been a struggle to be at peace. I would be lying if I said it any differently.

Black Atlantic gave me purpose outside of work, family, relationships and friendships.

Call it selfish again, but I needed something for me that was not dictated by anyone, or needed by anybody but me.

I am grateful for the response so far from my listeners, and I will keep creating, but I am doing it because I need it.

I need to clear the noise.

I need to feel.

I need to get it out.

There’s a loneliness woven through your sound, but also this strange resilience underneath it. Do you think your music is more about surviving darkness, or learning to exist comfortably inside it?

I think we need to be realistic, and for those of us who have battled some form of mental health, we need to just keep surviving.

But we also need to be honest with ourselves.

We are who we are, and living inside darkness “comfortably” is a stretch for most of us.

Channeling our feelings more constructively is possible through music.

Like addiction, though, you need to live a healthy life and work at it every day. There is no “get out of jail free” card.

If someone discovers Black Atlantic alone at night through headphones for the very first time, what do you hope they feel before the song even finishes — escape, nostalgia, danger, recognition, or the unsettling feeling that the music somehow understands them already?

I hope Black Atlantic simply contributes to a few memories.

Like those influential tracks that shaped my upbringing and still find their way to my speakers, music should keep allowing people to escape, feel nostalgic, or get the noise out of their head.

Without it, the world would indeed be a very lonely place.