More than a decade after its creation, Initium, the dark and ferocious instrumental from Sol Invicto, has finally surfaced in full. Originally recorded in 2011, the 21-minute sonic journey blends tribal, industrial, and electronic textures in a form that refuses to bend to commercial convention. We caught up with Richie Londres—founding member and producer—to discuss the long road to release, resisting the industry machine, and finding meaning in imperfection.

“Initium” was recorded in 2011 but withheld from public release for over a decade. What made this the right time to finally share it openly, and why now?

There are a few reasons for this. In the early days, I was frustrated with the lack of A&R and development in the industry (which is still the case today), so I decided to release this record as a demo. We had promised fans music, and waiting for distribution and labels was wasting my time. I’ve never been one to follow “correct procedures,” for better or worse, because they often exist to slow you down or discourage creativity—not just in music but across all creative industries. Back then, I wanted to take control of my own music. I knew the production wasn’t polished, but that wasn’t the point—it was about the feeling. I liked it, and I wanted people to hear it. We had about 30,000 downloads from a file-sharing service, which was nice, and even though it flew under the radar, I liked the idea of staying private, in the shadows. Still, this record always meant a lot to me, and I planned to give it the proper platform it deserved. The industry is much more independent-artist-friendly now, with more doors open for a proper release. It was also great to give it a fresh mix and have it mastered properly on analogue gear, thanks to my co-producer, Technical Itch. This probably would have come out sooner, but the 2020 setbacks and their fallout pushed it back. I’m delighted it’s finally out there.

You describe “Initium” as deliberately raw, outside the machinery of conventional studio processes. What do you feel is lost when music is overproduced or polished for commercial standards?

For me, feeling and vibe always trump technical perfection. I’m more of a producer and composer than an engineer. I know how to get the sounds I like, even if it’s not the “right” way, and that’s my art—so I embrace that blissful ignorance. Music has lost something as production values have risen over the years. There’s a point where overproduction detracts from the music itself. I admire those who achieve impeccable mixes with everything perfectly balanced, but for me, it often fails to connect with the spirit. I like hearing the mistakes.

Zach Hill’s contribution is described as reshaping the track from the ground up. How did his volatility and improvisation affect your original vision for “Initium”?

We had the groundwork for the record with some drum ideas mapped out—very industrial and lo-fi. I was listening to a lot of Hella and Lightning Bolt at the time, and I wanted unhinged drums to run through the record. We decided Zach Hill was the man for the job. My co-producer, AJ Cookson, made the mistake of telling Zach to “go crazy,” which was like telling Eminem to rap faster—he was already going to go wild! We had a lot of editing to do afterward. Chopping up four snare hits that sound like they’re all landing at once is taxing but exhilarating. That’s why Zach’s the best—his chaos is perfect.

Jack’s story is profoundly moving. Has this type of deeply personal listener connection changed how you approach creating music now, or how you define success as an artist?

I’m ambitious and driven, but music is art at its core. The reward for me is creating something that resonates deeply with me—it’s a cathartic process. If I’m losing track of time while making sounds, I know it’s something worth sharing. Success is twofold: first, creating music that soothes me; second, sharing it and seeing people experience it for the first time. I make music for myself, so it’s inherently niche—not for everyone. If it clicks with you, great; if not, that’s fine. I approach music the same way I always have, but Jack’s story stays with me. It encourages me to keep sharing, because who am I to deny someone that kind of experience? I create because I must, no matter what life throws at me. Any external success is a bonus. This is a studio project, a vanity project where I get to work with incredible people I grew up listening to. I’m open to opportunities and reaching a broader audience, but only on my terms.

Sol Invicto is known for resisting mainstream pressure. What challenges have you faced in maintaining that independence, and how do you navigate them?

“I’ve always been about the DIY approach—that’s why I turned Sol Invicto into a private music club back in 2017. It was my way of mentally breaking away from the industry, with plans to return when the time felt right, which is now. Staying independent isn’t too tough if you’re stubborn enough; the real challenge is reaching a wider audience with all the gatekeepers and hoops in the way. I’ve been pretty hard-headed, rejecting deals that didn’t sit right. Early on, I cut off talks with a big metal label when they claimed ‘certain artists’ wouldn’t sell in the German market. I was floating the idea of working with Tech N9ne for some vocals at the time, and their backwards uncle-style racism pissed me off, so I walked away. I could list plenty of industry-related headaches, but I figured out I didn’t need to deal with them if I just cut the middlemen out entirely. So that’s what I did.”

The piece blends industrial, tribal, and electronic influences in a 21-minute continuous form. How do you approach structuring a track with no repetition—what guides the flow?

AJ and I made this piece from the same session with Stephen. We had the bare bones of the tracks, and Stephen did his thing. Back in London, we worked on it, and the tracks blended into one cohesive sound, which we liked. Originally, we split it into seven tracks, but it’s really one body of music with no standout single. Being underground, I had no plans to bother with radio—especially since instrumental music is a no-go for radio, which is absurd. This freed the music to take shape on its own. For me, it’s hypnotic and tells a story. We had hoped to get extra parts and retakes from Stephen, as we didn’t record it as a final take, but I didn’t want to wait anymore, so we released it as is. AJ, a talented engineer, wasn’t thrilled, but I can be relentless—some might say convincing—so people eventually give in. My intentions are good, and in my opinion, music is never truly “ready.” You just have to pull the plug. It’s liberating to put out music that’s not perfect or up to the (inane) production standards of radio.

“Initium” is said to be for purists and outliers—those who hear music in ‘shapes and shadows’. How do you balance the abstract nature of that vision with making something emotionally accessible?

If it works for me, I’m happy with it. I’m a complex but in-tune person, so when it makes sense to me, I know it’ll connect with those who vibe with our stuff. As long as the intent is pure, that shines through in the music—it’s undeniable. A lot of people can’t hear this, which is why some popular music thrives when it shouldn’t, as its intent feels nefarious or impure.

For a track with such dense sonic layering and dynamic rhythmic shifts, what specific gear or setup did you rely on to capture the live rawness without losing clarity? Any particular tools that became essential to the process?

At the time, we used Logic Pro 9 for everything. I think Zach tracked on Pro Tools, and we recorded Stephen directly into Logic with a MOTU 896 soundcard—no pre-amp, haha. For Bobo’s work, we hired nice pre-amps and mics for his session in London. Then it was just a ton of plugins and editing—some Ableton, too—working the sounds over and over. With lo-fi, it’s intentional to make it sound degraded, so it was important to ensure everything sounded cohesive in its degradation.

If “Initium” were a creature from another dimension, what would it eat for breakfast—and would it use utensils, or just absorb the meal through rhythmic osmosis?

Interesting… It would feed on the disturbances and uncertainty people project, pulling them in like a vortex or whirlpool, then churning them back out in a bleak but hopeful way—no utensils, just rhythmic bacon flavoured osmosis.

Categories: Interviews, Music