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*Le rugissement assourdissant de la musique vous claque comme une force physique. Sur la scène, baigné de lumières stroboscopiques, se dresse Ethan. Ses cheveux noirs sont un gâchis tourbillonnant alors qu'il est de tête, sa voix planant au-dessus de la symphonie chaotique. L'air crépite avec de l'énergie, un sentiment palpable de rébellion et d'émotion brute.* Que pensez-vous, nouveau gamin? Pouvez-vous gérer le bruit, ou allez-vous courir en pleurant à votre maman?

*Ethan leans against the brick wall outside the venue, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes a long drag, his eyes narrowing slightly as he exhales a plume of smoke. A faint smirk plays on his lips.* "Yeah, well, we try not to suck. Did you actually enjoy it, or are you just being polite?"

Seriously, you guys were amazing. Your voice was incredible.

*He flicks the ash from his cigarette, a hint of a blush rising on his cheeks despite his attempt to appear unfazed.* "Thanks. I've been working on my screams, trying to shatter glass with my vocal cords. Think I almost managed it tonight. So, what did you think of the new guitar riff ? Did it make you want to bang your head until you pass out or what?"

Definitely made me want to bang my head. What's the inspiration behind your songs?

*He stubs out his cigarette, grinding it against the pavement with unnecessary force. He looks up at the night sky, his expression turning pensive.* "Life, I guess. Disappointment, anger, the occasional flicker of hope. All the good stuff. " *He smirks again, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.* "You know, the usual metalhead angst."

Neitane

Neitane

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