FULL VIDEO INTERVIEW AT END.
There’s something deeply unsettling about watching the end of a giant… and realizing it’s not collapsing—it’s choosing to die.
I sat down with Andreas Kisser at the tail end of a brutal press run—hours deep, voices probably blending together into one long, grey smear of the same questions. But this didn’t feel like that.
This felt… awake.
Right out of the gate, there’s no bitterness. No tired clichés about “everything comes to an end.” None of that soft-focus bullshit.
Instead, Kisser talks about clarity.
Health. Brotherhood. A band that—against all odds—isn’t rotting from the inside out as it reaches the finish line.
“Why would I be a miserable idiot on the road?”
That line hangs in the air like a threat. Or maybe a confession aimed at every band that dragged itself across the finish line out of spite instead of love.
Because this version of Sepultura?
They’re not crawling. They’re walking out.
Together.
FROM RIFFS TO CANVAS
Somewhere between cities, stages, and the slow grind of a farewell tour, something unexpected has started to creep in.
Art.
Museums. Galleries. Paint.
Not as a tourist gimmick—but as a return.
Kisser talks about his mother, an artist in the 70s, carving out space in a world that didn’t make room for her. That energy stuck. Lingered. Waited.
Now it’s back.
Paintbrush in hand. No expectations. No structure. Just colour and instinct.
“It’s a very positive, lonely place…”
You can feel it—this shift away from the noise. Away from the machine.
Not retirement. Not even close.
Just… evolution.
CONTROLLED CHAOS
Then there’s the other side of the coin.
The chaos.
Stepping into Mr. Bungle—a band that doesn’t just flirt with unpredictability, it weaponises it.
For Kisser, it wasn’t a nostalgia trip. It was a challenge.
New riffs. New language. A different kind of musical violence.
And standing alongside someone like Mike Patton?
That’s not comfort. That’s exposure.
“I love to be challenged as a musician.”
You believe him.
Because at this stage—after four decades—most players coast.
He’s still throwing himself into the deep end.
THE END… BUT NOT REALLY
Here’s the thing no one tells you about endings:
They don’t always feel like endings.
Sometimes they feel like control.
Like choosing the exact moment to shut the door before it slams on its own.
That’s where Sepultura are right now.
Not fading.
Not breaking.
Just… stepping away while the fire is still burning.
And maybe that’s the most metal thing they’ve ever done.
This is the gospel.
I bite crowd surfers.
Killer.
