Death Lens started out playing surf instrumentals in La Puente. Today, the San Gabriel Valley band is touring the world and writing songs about getting older, living with uncertainty, and what ICE raids are doing to families in their community. On What’s Left Now?, their new album on Epitaph, those concerns sit alongside the shout-along hooks of “Waiting to Know,” a song they co-wrote with Militarie Gun’s Ian Shelton. We talked with frontman Bryan Torres about the boleros and Spanish rock that found their way into the band’s sound, how he got into directing his own videos, and the people who gave Death Lens a shot before anyone knew their name.
Thanks for doing this, and congrats on what seems to be a big year for you guys! You’ve been at it for a while, but it feels like Death Lens is entering a whole new chapter right now. Does it feel that way to you?
We definitely are. I can’t tell if we’re closing out the last chapter or starting a whole new book. We’re all getting older, and every year it gets a little harder to keep this thing moving. But I think that’s always been part of the drive for us: time. Knowing it’s not going to wait around for you, so you either keep moving or get left behind. Since Cold World and now What’s Left Now?, it feels like we’ve stepped into a whole new space. Not that we’ve figured anything out, but there’s more ground to cover, more things we want to try, and less interest in staying in one place just because it’s comfortable. We’re finally at a point where we understand what Death Lens is, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop questioning it.
It feels like there’s been a lot more collaboration happening in hardcore lately, which is awesome to see. How did you guys end up doing “Waiting to Know” with Ian Shelton from Militarie Gun?
Hardcore, rap, and hip-hop have always shared the same ecosystem and ethos. That’s what makes these collaborations beautiful, you get to create with people you genuinely look up to. We were lucky to build a real friendship with Ian, and honored he came through for “Waiting to Know.” He told us he only does features he believes in, so for him to show up straight off tour after we hit him up meant a lot. The dude’s intelligent, and we don’t take that shit for granted.
Bryan, you directed the “Debt Collector” video (sick video) yourself and we love your CHICO video for “Too Late” too. How did you get into directing, and is that something you see yourself doing more of?
Directing and editing “Debt Collector” was a new venture for me, but I found something that clicked pretty quickly. It’s fast-paced, and I think it gives my ADHD somewhere to go. I get bored easily, but chopping things up and figuring out where everything fits feels natural to me. We don’t exactly have the money to hire directors for every video, so I’ve been working on new ideas myself. Definitely more to come. Keep a lookout!
You came out of La Puente and the East LA scene. How much does where you grew up still shape the band?
The 626 shapes us and always will. We haven’t seen many bands from our area make it beyond their own backyard, so we take pride in repping where we’re from everywhere we go, whether it’s Canada, the UK, or Europe. It’s part of our identity. No matter how far we go, we’re carrying home with us. SGV 4 LIFE.
What kind of music were you listening to before punk entered your world? There are Latin influences in your music dating back to the early demos, all the way up to the incredible intro on “Monolith” — did that come from the music you grew up around or played when you were younger?
I grew up in a pretty religious household, so music wasn’t really part of my life until later on. Our taste has always been all over the place: boleros, oldies, Spanish rock, indie, garage rock, power pop, hardcore, everything. Funny enough, punk is probably the genre we’ve listened to the least. I think that’s what makes Death Lens what it is. We never came into this trying to sound like a punk band. All those different sounds were already around us, and they naturally found their way into the music. We just take what we like and make it our own.
Photo: Robert Nuñez
You’ve talked about making music for people who don’t always feel like they have a voice. Has that always been part of what Death Lens is about, or did that become clearer over time?
We started as a surf instrumental band, then turned into straight up party garage rock. Over time, things started shifting in this country, and we realized we had a platform that could mean something beyond just playing music. We’ve been outspoken about our government and its bullshit for the better part of the last decade. At the end of the day, we’re a product of our community. If we have a microphone and people are listening, why wouldn’t we use it for the people around us? Music should bring people together, but it should also make people feel like they’re not alone in what they’re going through.
Was there someone or a band who really believed in Death Lens before things started happening? What did they say that put some wind in your sails?
Early on, there was a band called Pool Honeys who were local legends in our scene. They gave us opportunities to get our name out there before anyone really knew who we were. Gotta give them their flowers for that. And Galo, the man behind The Cathedral in Pomona, was one of the first people to invest in us and believe we had something worth building on. Those are the people who help keep a scene alive. They didn’t have to give us a shot, but they did, and we’ll always have love for them.
What’s a lyric — yours or someone else’s — that sums up where you’re at right now?
The first line of our songs “Memory Hotline” goes, “Time won’t turn back. Leave the minutes back home.” That line sticks with me because I’m always feeling like I’m running out of time to make something of myself. You get caught up watching everyone move at their own pace and start thinking you’re falling behind. But every flower blooms in its own time. I’m learning to let things happen without feeling like I have to force everything right now.
And finally, can you give us something you think is a Good Call right now? It can be a band, politics, record, restaurant, movie, place, anything.
Fuck ICE and the Gestapo shit they’re pulling on our communities. Fuck an administration that governs through fear instead of working for the common good. And free Palestine, Sudan, and the Congo. If we’re going to talk about good calls, start by standing with people who are being brutalized, displaced, and ignored. We’re all connected, whether people want to admit it or not.
