In this interview, Daniel Bohn discusses his journey as a one-man project, his new concept album, creative influences, storytelling, and the emotions behind his music.
1. Congratulations
on your first release under Sliptrick Records. How does it feel to reach this
milestone, and what opportunities has signing with the label opened up for you?
Signing
with Sliptrick was an exciting milestone for me. As an independent musician,
seeing someone else believe in your music enough to help share it with the
world is a great feeling. It gave me the opportunity to reach listeners I
probably wouldn't have found on my own and helped me learn a lot about how the
industry works.
Looking
back, I'm grateful for that experience. It also gave me the confidence to
return to being independent, taking everything I learned and continuing to
build the project in my own way.
2. You
handle guitars, drums, piano, bass, and vocals yourself. What inspired you to
take on so many roles, and what are the biggest challenges of being a one-man
project?
It honestly
started because I just loved learning new instruments. Every instrument has its
own personality and adds something different to a song. The more I learned, the
more ideas I had, and eventually I found myself wanting to create every part of
the music.
The biggest
challenge is definitely perspective. When you're doing everything yourself,
there's no one there to immediately tell you if an idea works or doesn't. You
have to learn to trust yourself, but also know when to step back and listen
with fresh ears. It can be a lot of work, but it's incredibly rewarding hearing
a song come together from an idea into something complete.
3. Your
music draws influence from bands such as Between the Buried and Me, Porcupine
Tree, Opeth, and Persefone. How have these artists shaped your songwriting and
sound?
Each of
those bands has influenced me in a different way. Between the Buried and Me
taught me that songs don't have to follow a formula. They can be unpredictable
and still feel cohesive. Opeth showed me how heavy music and beautiful melodies
can exist together, while Porcupine Tree helped me appreciate atmosphere,
dynamics, and knowing when not to play. Persefone has always inspired me with
how they blend technicality and emotion.
I never try to sound like those bands, but I definitely admire the way they aren't afraid to take risks. That's something I always try to carry into my own writing.
4. This
new release continues the story introduced in Colors of the Land. What inspired
you to expand this narrative, and why was it important to continue the concept?
When I
finished Colors of the Land, I realized the story wasn't over. There were still
questions I wanted to explore, and the characters still had room to grow.
The fantasy
world became a way to talk about very real emotions and experiences. Things
like loss, hope, fear, and resilience can sometimes be easier to understand
when they're told through a different lens. Continuing the story allowed me to
dive deeper into those ideas while also building a world that listeners could
return to with each album.
5. The
album explores themes of revenge, corruption, war, and loss. What deeper
messages or emotions were you hoping listeners would connect with throughout
the story?
Those
themes are definitely present, but they're really just the setting. The bigger
message has always been about resilience and how we respond to hardship.
Life is
going to knock all of us down at some point. We can't always control what
happens to us, but we can choose how we move forward. I hope people see pieces
of themselves in the characters and realize that even in our darkest moments,
there's still hope, purpose, and something worth fighting for.
6. The
opening track, "The Red Blight," marks the beginning of the
corruption within the narrative. What does this song represent, and how did you
approach its composition?
"The
Red Blight" represents the moment everything begins to change. It's the
beginning of corruption spreading through the land, but it's also symbolic of
how fear, anger, or hatred can slowly consume people if they're left unchecked.
Musically,
I wanted the song to feel like something growing. It starts with tension and
gradually becomes heavier and more chaotic as the corruption spreads. I wanted
listeners to almost feel like they were witnessing the beginning of something
much larger.
7. The
closing track, "Kujira," symbolizes the death of courage through the
loss of the Whale. Why was this moment so significant to the storyline, and
what emotions were you aiming to capture musically?
The Whale
has always represented hope, courage, and the things that inspire us to keep
moving forward. Losing the Whale isn't just losing a character—it's losing what
that character represents.
I wanted
that ending to feel heavy, but not hopeless. Sometimes we lose the things we
depend on, but that doesn't mean hope disappears forever. It simply means we
have to find it somewhere else. Musically, I wanted the song to feel emotional
and reflective, almost like saying goodbye while still leaving the door open
for another chapter.
8.
Concept albums often require balancing storytelling with memorable songs. How
did you ensure that the narrative and the music complemented each other
throughout the record?
The music
always comes first. If a song doesn't work on its own, the story won't save it.
I wanted
every song to stand on its own while also contributing something meaningful to
the larger narrative. If someone listens to one track without knowing the
story, I still want them to enjoy it. But if they listen to the whole album, I
hope they discover another layer that gives those songs even more meaning.
9. You
wrote and recorded the album in St. Louis, while Dorian Falconeri handled
mixing and mastering. How did that collaboration influence the final sound of
the record?
Dorian was
fantastic to work with. By the time I send music off for mixing and mastering,
I've listened to those songs hundreds of times. Having someone else hear them
with fresh ears is incredibly valuable.
He
understood what I was trying to accomplish and helped bring clarity, power, and
balance to the songs without changing their identity. It still sounds like my
music—it just sounds like the best version of it.
10. The
quote "Melancholy, created in a way never before" has been used to
describe your music. How do you feel about that description, and what role does
melancholy play in your creative process?
I actually
like that description because melancholy doesn't necessarily mean sadness. To
me, it's reflection. It's appreciating the beauty in difficult moments and
recognizing that both joy and pain are part of being human.
A lot of my
music comes from asking questions rather than trying to provide answers.
Melancholy naturally becomes part of that because growth usually comes from
reflecting on the experiences that shape us.
11.
Looking back on the recording sessions, were there any memorable challenges,
surprises, or moments that stand out now that the album is complete?
The
recording process was kind of all over the place. Most of the drums were
recorded at a local studio, while the guitars and vocals were recorded at my
old house. Then I moved, so I ended up finishing production and recording the
remaining parts in my new house.
Looking
back, it's funny because the album almost traveled with me through that chapter
of my life. It wasn't the most traditional recording process, but overall I had
a great time creating it, and I'm really proud of how everything came together.
12. Your
quote, "Science is the magic of gods," is both intriguing and
thought-provoking. What does that statement mean to you, and how does it
connect to the themes explored in your music?
I've always
loved that quote because I think science and wonder go hand in hand. The more
we learn about the universe, the more incredible it becomes. Things that once
seemed impossible or magical often turn out to have beautiful explanations, but
that doesn't make them any less amazing.
To me,
"Science is the magic of gods" is a reminder to stay curious. My
music often explores fantasy, mythology, and imagination, but underneath all of
that is the idea that there's still so much we don't understand. Whether it's
science, philosophy, or music itself, I think there's something beautiful about
continuing to ask questions rather than pretending we already have all the
answers.
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