If you listen to No Salvation and then you listen to House With A Curse, it's going to seem shockingly different." Coliseum guitarist and vocalist Ryan Patterson, a veteran of Louisville's renowned punk and hardcore scene, is frank when addressing the massive sonic shift from the band's 2007 full-length to their most recent outing. Formed in 2003, the band have long been the torchbearer for modern d-beat hardcore. But not anymore. "The band was drifting into a place that I hadn't intended," says Patterson. "I wasn't happy where I saw us going, in terms of getting crazier, faster, having more and more parts and being too technical. All these things I don't like about music."
Hoping to change the band's musical direction, Patterson had to make some tough decisions, including parting ways with drummer Chris Magio. "We were just on completely different pages," says Patterson. "What he wanted to do musically was not what I wanted to do." Recruiting Carter Wilson, the band (including long-time bassist Mike Pascal) set about redefining the Coliseum rulebook, shaping an expansive, sonically varied record that could have been the Minutemen's long-lost stab at a metal album. House With A Curse is a new day for Coliseum; it won't be for everyone, and Patterson couldn't be happier. "The other day, I read a review of the record that called it 'pussy shit.' It was perfect," he laughs, "because that's the exact kind of person I don't want to be into my band."
Hoping to change the band's musical direction, Patterson had to make some tough decisions, including parting ways with drummer Chris Magio. "We were just on completely different pages," says Patterson. "What he wanted to do musically was not what I wanted to do." Recruiting Carter Wilson, the band (including long-time bassist Mike Pascal) set about redefining the Coliseum rulebook, shaping an expansive, sonically varied record that could have been the Minutemen's long-lost stab at a metal album. House With A Curse is a new day for Coliseum; it won't be for everyone, and Patterson couldn't be happier. "The other day, I read a review of the record that called it 'pussy shit.' It was perfect," he laughs, "because that's the exact kind of person I don't want to be into my band."
