Feature: Through the Vanishing Point – An Interview with Seth Metoyer
Seth Metoyer doesn’t just wear his heart on his sleeve—he feeds it through tube amps, layers it in guitar distortion, and lets it echo through the void. You might know him from heavier metal projects like Mangled Carpenter, Brain Matter or Pulpit Vomit (or even the “Rock Stars on God” song he made for my book‘s commercial), but his upcoming solo album Through the Vanishing Point is a different beast altogether. It’s less about brutality and more about shadow. Less about belief as a banner and more about survival as a process.
This isn’t some algorithmic attempt to trend-chase the alt-metal playlists of the past. This is a deeply personal, late-night-drive, memory-haunted kind of record—born from divorce, mental health struggles, loss, and the long walk through the dark when no one’s watching. Metoyer blends analog grit with machine-assisted precision, embracing modern tools without handing over the wheel. He talks about art, faith, AI, Lynch, Pollock, and why Christian creatives still find themselves in a bizarre no-man’s-land between the church and the club.
The first single, House of Echoes, just dropped and is now haunting all major digital and streaming platforms. It’s a brooding, riff-heavy introduction to the world Metoyer has carved out—a world where pain, hope, and beauty all bleed through the same cracked lens.
This isn’t about selling you on a genre. It’s about sitting in the passenger seat with a guy who’s been through it, made peace with the mess, and pressed “record” anyway.
Heaven’s Metal Interview with Seth Metoyer by Doug Van Pelt
Heaven’s Metal: What moves you about much of the late ‘90s to mid-2000’s music?
Seth Metoyer: For me, the vibe I wanted on this album is rooted in the late ‘90s to mid-2000s—a time of upheaval and transformation in my life. My late 20s and early 30s felt like a sharp turn, and music from that era met me exactly where I was. I was going through a divorce, and it was a dark time. Bands like A Perfect Circle/Tool, Chevelle, Breaking Benjamin, Fuel, Vertical Horizon, and Staind didn’t just sound good—they felt like lifelines. They weren’t preaching to me; they were feeling with me. Not in a spiritual way—though I probably needed that too—but in a raw, human way.
The album Through the Vanishing Point is my attempt to capture that emotional intensity, both musically and lyrically. More than anything, I create music that I personally want to listen to. Even in my other band projects, I always write music that resonates deeply with me. I frequently listen to my own releases, not out of vanity, but because they reflect exactly what I love musically. I tend to create songs I want to hear.
HM: What styles and textures are you creating with the rest of these songs?
SM: It’s a fusion of alternative hard rock and metal from that late ‘90s to mid-2000s era, with modern influences like Bad Omens and Sleep Token woven in. Some tracks hit harder, some lean into atmospheric and melodic spaces, but all of them carry an emotional weight.
HM: Are you a one-man band in the studio? How do you pull that off?
SM: I’m mostly a one-man band in the studio. Kris Olson from Mangled Carpenter/Brain Matter/Pulpit Vomit plays bass on all my music, including this album, and I collaborate occasionally with local studio musicians and producers, but the bulk is me layering guitars, drums and other elements in my home studio, obsessively refining the details. I spent about a year writing the lyrics and crafting the music for this album, making sure every element felt right.
When I produce, I’m always looking for new ways to expand my sound while staying true to my vision. That’s why I’ve experimented with emerging generative tools, similar to the methods Timbaland has highlighted in his work. Timbaland, who has famously worked with artists like Beyoncé, Justin Timberlake, and Jay-Z, has been open about integrating new technology to enhance creativity. Seeing his approach reinforced my own curiosity and led me to explore new creative pathways.
Vocally, I blend my own performance with elements shaped using modern machine-learning tools, layering in reverb, effects, and the occasional hyper-caffeinated Auto-Tune to chase the exact sound I’m hearing. I’m a perfectionist—always chasing the sound in my head, always trying to get better.
HM: When you are writing a song, which parts do you usually hear first?
SM: It depends on what’s speaking to me at the moment. I don’t hear songs fully formed—I catch ideas. David Lynch suggested that ideas don’t originate from deliberate thought, they’re caught. Inspiration can come from anywhere—a passing moment, a visual juxtaposition, a memory resurfacing. For me, a lot of ideas come from the subconscious, and as Rick Rubin says, “The work reveals itself as you go. It tells you what it wants to be.” Some songs start with a guitar riff and a drum groove (like House of Echoes), others start with an overall vibe I want to capture.
HM: What is your musical training?
SM: My first instrument was air guitar—hours spent playing riffs and headbanging in my room. I briefly played clarinet in school (not well), but I always wanted to play guitar. My dad once found an acoustic guitar on the side of the road and gave it to me (it was warped and didn’t play very well), but I didn’t buy my first electric guitar until I was 29—an ESP LTD from Guitar Center in Nashville back in 2002. It came with a tiny amp, cost me about $120, and I eventually recorded the first extreme metal Mangled Carpenter album with it. I still have it 23 years later.
I have no formal training. I taught myself guitar, never learned to read music (aside from easy notes while playing clarinet, badly), but I can follow tabs. I’ve never learned a cover song all the way through—always got bored and started twisting things into my own ideas. Eventually, I branched into VST instruments, classical, ambient, and electronic music, experimenting with film scoring.
HM: How did you learn to compose songs?
SM: Trial and error. Researching how to work with what I had. Initially, I started making music using Sony Acid in 2005, a simple yet effective digital audio workstation (DAW). It was great for experimenting, but as my ambitions grew and I began working on film scoring and more complex productions, I needed more flexibility and control. Upgrading to Cubase Pro opened up new possibilities—better orchestration, more intricate guitar and vocal layering, and a more professional workflow.
Cubase also introduced me to the world of VST instruments, expanding everything from cinematic strings to ambient drones and intricate keys. Programs like HAMMERS by acclaimed film composer Charlie Clouser (Saw, Resident Evil: Extinction, Nine Inch Nails) have been game changers, offering powerful percussive elements that add depth and intensity to my compositions.
My background in graphic design influences my process—I see songwriting like layering elements in Photoshop, building depth until the picture makes sense. With Cubase Pro, I could refine details at a much higher level, allowing my compositions to evolve into something more cinematic and immersive.
HM: How often are you creative?
SM: About 90% of the time. But I’ve learned the importance of stepping back. Burnout is real. There are times I feel drained, like I’ll never have another idea—but that never lasts. The ideas always start catching again.
HM: What are your thoughts on Christian art/music?
SM: Christian music has a place, but there’s too much gatekeeping, especially in metal. It’s a tough space—you get pushback from both sides. The secular world dismisses you, and parts of the Christian world don’t understand or accept heavier sounds and imagery (such as in the extreme side of metal). The same struggle exists in film. I’ve been a film producer for over 15 years with 20 feature films under my belt (and have composed music for 3 features). I’ve had several faith-based film ideas that sparked interest in Hollywood, but nothing has gained traction. Additionally, I’ve gotten songs from my band’s Pulpit Vomit and Brain Matter into films, as well as Broken Curfew Records artist, GLAE, and former Rottweiler Records artist, Grave Robber.
It’s difficult to find production partners willing to take a chance on faith-based films, particularly those that push boundaries in horror, thriller, or sci-fi genres with a strong Christian angle. Many fear that the secular audience won’t engage, while the Christian community may gatekeep and tear down the ideas. There’s a lot of black and white thinking in modern Christianity, which I don’t know is always beneficial for art. Obviously, there are boundaries—I’m not talking about being gratuitous or throwing around expletives—but creativity thrives in nuance, and rigid lines can sometimes stifle powerful storytelling.
HM: Is Through the Vanishing Point a Christian album?
SM: For this project, I didn’t want the “Christian album” label slapped on it. But being a believer naturally influences everything I do. Mangled Carpenter—my extreme metal band—on the other hand, is explicitly faith-based, with lyrics centered on Christian theology and biblical stories. Through the Vanishing Point, however, is deeply personal—my life, my past, my experiences. I didn’t create it for a specific spiritual audience; I created it for everyone. My hope is that it resonates on a human level, beyond labels or expectations.
HM: What themes are you exploring with this project?
SM: Loss. Divorce. Mental illness—living with bipolar disorder and depression. The passing of my father. The echoes of unresolved moments and broken relationships from the past. Some tracks are poetic and cryptic; others are deeply personal. This album was cathartic—I had to dig into places I’d locked away, confronting things I hadn’t wanted to face.
HM: What do you hope people get out of these tunes?
SM: I hope they find pieces of themselves in the lyrics. Maybe a different perspective. Maybe a reminder that everyone carries unseen struggles. More than anything, I hope they feel the passion behind it and that the music speaks to them on a deep emotional level, just as it does with me.
HM: How important is the visual part of music to you?
SM: Visuals are everything. They tell a story before the music even starts. And the beauty of art is its subjectivity—someone may see something entirely different in the imagery than I do, and that’s what makes it powerful.
HM: What are the release details for the album?
SM: House of Echoes (Single Released): March 21st (Digital/Streaming)
A Sky Stitched in Blue (Single Release): April 25th (Digital/Streaming)
Through The Vanishing Point (Album Release): May 16th (Digital/Streaming/Physical CD)
It’s a Dual Release: Broken Curfew Records and Rottweiler Records
HM: Can we expect to hear these songs live?
SM: No live performances because translating the detailed studio process—particularly the intricate digital layering and vocal treatments—into a live setting would be quite challenging. However, as real-time processing technology continues to evolve, I may explore the possibility of doing select live performances in the future, especially on a local scale. That said, a Live Studio version of “A Sky Stitched in Blue” on the album, featuring some Monterey studio musician friends. It’s not completely live but was taken from a live session and then digitally processed and mixed.
HM: Anything else you’d like to share?
SM: Jackson Pollock famously said, “New needs need new techniques.” David Lynch similarly noted, “Computers are magnificent tools for the realization of our dreams, but no machine can replace the human spark of spirit, compassion, love, and understanding.” Both quotes deeply resonate with me. I enjoyed exploring and thoughtfully integrating some of the newest creative tools available, fused with traditional production, to really push the sonic boundaries of this record. The tools I use help capture emotional snapshots—moments that might otherwise vanish before fully expressed. Creativity always starts with the human mind—the tools serve that vision, never dictate it. As David Lynch also put it, “The machine doesn’t create. It’s the person who uses it who brings something to life. The tools are there to serve, not to dictate.”
At the end of the day, music is about connection and how it makes you feel. If this album resonates with even one person the way music has moved me throughout my life, then it’s all been worth it.
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