“We just want to sound like us… even if it scares people sometimes.”
That’s Michael from Artifact, grinning like chaos incarnate, and you can feel it before he even opens his mouth. Sitting down for a chat that roared as much as their riffs, he takes you through the weird, wild, and utterly honest world of one of Australia’s most thrilling metal acts. From chance meetings in Woolies to tearing up stages with Northlane, Artifact isn’t just playing music—they’re reshaping it.
From the first moment Michael recounts meeting Andrew at Woolies after a big night, you realize this band’s story isn’t crafted in a boardroom—it’s forged in pubs, jams, and sheer, unpredictable luck. “Shit just out of the blue in a Woolies,” he laughs, “and then we just started jamming. The Unravel breakdown was the first thing we wrote.” That’s the kind of accidental alchemy that fuels Artifact’s relentless drive.
Michael’s voice is the heartbeat of Artifact—sometimes snarling, sometimes soaring, always tethered to truth. When talking about how the songs come to life, he’s brutally honest: some tracks demand research, analogies, precise storytelling; others are pure emotion, intuition dictating every word. “Insurrection… I just wanted to capture a feeling. That’s it,” he says, his hands miming the rise and fall of every riff, every breakdown, every pulse of their sound.
The band’s growth has been explosive. Playing with Northlane in Wagga—one of their first “big” shows—was a moment of revelation. “Is that… did that just happen?” Michael recalls, still wide-eyed. Recognition from peers, local Musos, and the crowd confirmed what Artifact already knew: this was more than a hobby. It was a statement.
Partnership with Bleeding Arts has only amplified that. Michael talks about Greg as the secret weapon behind the scenes, guiding the band through media, overseas opportunities, and festival connections, all while letting the creative chaos remain intact. “He chips in ideas… but ultimately, we do our thing. That’s important.”
Recording sessions are equally intense. Working with Lance on the mix and mastering process, the band gave feedback like a storm, shaping the sound but letting it breathe. “Drum sounds… you just know it’s Lance,” Michael grins. Imperfections aren’t flaws—they’re emotional fingerprints, cracks and pops that make each vocal take resonate with authenticity.
And the pre-show rituals? Michael is refreshingly human. Breathwork, Wim Hof rounds, and yes, a very important pre-show poo—anything to center himself before stepping into the red-lit chaos of the stage.
Artifact isn’t chasing trends. They’re not trying to please anyone except themselves. “We just want to sound like us… even if it scares people sometimes,” Michael repeats, because that statement is as much a warning as it is a promise.
For fans of melodic aggression, emotional riffs, and chaotic artistry, this interview is a deep dive into one of Australia’s most thrilling acts. Michael’s voice is just the entry point—the story behind it, the journey, and the relentless drive make Artifact a band that refuses to be tamed.
This is the gospel.
I bite crowd surfers.
Killer.
