In the age of algorithm-fed playlists and throwaway hooks, The Quarantined aren’t here to play nice. Their new single, “Shadow (on my back),” dropping August 20, is a slab of raw intensity—a bruising meditation on trauma, oppression, and the kind of inner darkness that refuses to be neatly resolved in a three-minute chorus.
The track’s origin story is just as heavy as its riffs. Written in 2010 by frontman Sean Martin in a Hollywood apartment during a personal battle with PTSD, “Shadow” is the sound of survival scraped out of the void. Martin doesn’t sugarcoat the source material—every lyric drips with the unease of sleepless nights, intrusive thoughts, and the dehumanizing weight of invisible enemies. The opening lines—“Forever remembered, ever after should we wait? / Enshrine the emptiness and hate your saving grace”—set the tone, equal parts haunted confession and uncompromising indictment of a society that feeds on despair.
Produced at Nashville’s Blackbird Studios by Nathan Yarborough (whose résumé includes Alice in Chains and Evanescence), the track sounds massive without losing its grit. Jerry Roe’s drumming hits with the precision of artillery fire, Luis Espalliat’s basslines churn like tectonic plates, and Zack Rapp (Dream Theater) adds soaring lead guitar and violin textures that keep the song from collapsing under its own heaviness. When Martin howls, “Cause the shadow on my back tells my fate,” the weight of the lyric hangs like a guillotine, fusing his personal scars with universal dread.
Like Rage Against the Machine before them, The Quarantined thrive in the tension between rage and resistance. The pre-chorus refrain—“Death will be your master / Follow you from here on after”—feels less like metaphor and more like a stark prophecy, the kind of line that brands itself into the listener’s memory. Meanwhile, the second verse’s admission—“Madness tempts my frantic mindstate / When it takes you there’s no retreat”—pulls the curtain back on the psychological toll of trauma, making “Shadow (on my back)” both unflinching and deeply human.
The single follows their ferocious cut “Skeleton Chair” and continues to build momentum toward their upcoming full-length, Aversion to Normalcy. If “Shadow (on my back)” is any indication, the record won’t just be another rock album—it’ll be a manifesto, scorched into tape by a band that refuses to bow to conformity or silence.
The Quarantined have always been outsiders—their very name a reminder of isolation and resilience—but with “Shadow (on my back),” they’ve turned that exile into power. It’s not easy listening, and it’s not meant to be. This is music for those willing to confront the darkness head-on and walk out stronger on the other side.
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