There is a strange, poetic irony in the timeline of this album. It takes exactly nine months to bring a new human life into the world. By some unplanned, cosmic coincidence, that is exactly how long we have been locked away gestating Summer Never Lies.
For nine months, this project has lived entirely in the dark. It has survived on a diet of cold coffee, late-night studio arguments, blown speakers, and the obsessive need to get every single guitar tone and snare hit exactly right. We poured our anger, our grief, and our quietest moments of hope into these ten tracks. In this isolated vacuum, the album belonged completely to us.
But as June 5th rapidly approaches, the adrenaline is starting to mix with pure, unadulterated terror.
It is the universal fear of every artist: what happens when you finally open the doors? Will the audience understand the cynical bite of The Perfect Business? Will they feel the heavy, silent weight of Goodbye? Will the weaponized noise we created actually wake anyone up, or will it just fade into the endless algorithm of modern music? Letting go of the record means losing control of it. Once it drops, it’s no longer just ours—it belongs to anyone who presses play.
The anxiety is real, but it’s also the exact reason we formed Plastik Throne in the first place. Art without risk is just background noise, and we didn't build this band to play it safe.
On June 5th, this nine-month gestation finally comes to an end. The album will take its first breath in the real world. We are terrified, we are exhausted, but more than anything, we are ready. The empire of plastic is about to fall.
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