TesseracT vocalist Daniel Tompkins and Chimp Spannerās Paul Ortiz have harnessed the healing properties of music on their latest collaboration, Prince Of Failure. The pair have combined spacious arrangements, electronic textures and powerful guitar-work with intimate vocals on their extremely personal debut album. Here, they open a window into their working process and reveal this is just the beginning for the studio-based project.
For much of their lives, TesseracTās Daniel Tompkins and Chimp Spannerās Paul Ortiz have wrestled with the voices in their head that often make them feel conflicted and uncertain. In their new project, Prince Of Failure, music serves as a tool for self-discovery. And this is just the beginning.
āPrince Of Failure is what happens when experiences go unnamed for years,ā says Tompkins. āIf you have a shadow in the back of your mind, giving it a name can be a very empowering thing, to separate yourself from it. Thatās what Iām giving shape to with this project. Iām 42 years old, and Iām discovering a side of myself that has been a mystery for a long time.ā
The singer has reunited with Ortiz to put their mental struggles and a love for 2000s rock ā which soundtracked important periods of their lives ā at its tender core. A cinematic, ever-shifting sound punctuates its brutal honesty, delivering an experience full of rage and release, anger and acceptance.
Having released a synthwave album together as Zeta in 2019, Tompkins enlisted Ortiz for Ruins, a guitar-centric reworking of his 2019 solo record, Castles. Prince Of Failure was originally intended as another Tompkins solo outing with Ortiz producing. But the project changed after Tompkins was diagnosed with ADHD with autistic traits, and Ortiz became his confidant. āItās been a poignant moment in my life ā itās made me question everything,ā the singer says. āAll my insecurities, Iām starting to understand, were born from this.ā
Giving Prince Of Failure a name, he adds, has āallowed me to almost exorcise that part of me that was always telling me that I was doing something wrong. Thereās been a lot of soul searching because Iām in an environment where relationships and being sociable are very important. But actually, growing up with this condition, having such an intense desire to be a singer and trying to force my way into this industry and build relationships, but also have that incredible awkwardness and anxiety ā I canāt believe I went through with that.ā
Many people living with ADHD also deal with rejection sensitivity, where just the thought of failing can create a debilitating emotional responses. Tompkins has been at war with himself: one part of him is driven to succeed in the industry, while another feels like an imposter, scared to enter in a place of potential harm.
āI want the bright lights; I want the chaos,ā he admits. āBut on the flipside I have these traits that tell me to step away and hide. So the album is about learning to stop fighting parts of myself. I spent years thinking I was failing at things because people found life easy, while I struggled with focus and overthought everything. I felt out of sync with people and I didnāt have the language for it.ā
Ortiz hasnāt had a diagnosis, but screening results suggest he should get one. While writing their album the pair trauma-bonded, and the music is born of that. āIāve had a lot of displacement,ā Ortiz says. āI left home, came back home, went through a whole bunch of stuff with that, and you can hear that as the album transforms from warm nostalgia to something more introspective and gothic. The music has reflected our journeys. Itās very personal and sincere.ā
Thereās a powerful subversion of their struggles in their willingness to livestream and write in real time in front of their fans. On the surface, it shows their determination to succeed despite their challenges. Dig deeper, and itās clear that they need those dopamine hits to quell the voices in their heads that tell them they arenāt good enough.
āIād go on Twitch and livestream me writing an idea to the point I could send it to Dan,ā says Ortiz. āThen Iād see that heās live on Twitch, and heās writing the vocals for it ā sometimes within half an hour!ā The pair often exchanged ideas in that way, evolving the songs right before their audiences.
āThere are a lot of people who shy away from that because they feel like theyāre going to get ripped off, or theyāre giving things away too soon,ā Tompkins says. āBut, actually, that community is everything.ā
Thereās been very few times in my musical career where Iāve clicked with someone as I do with Paul
Dan Tompkins
Ortiz agrees: āInviting people in helped keep us excited, because we were seeing their reactions and getting feedback. Itās a very new experience for me and Iāve loved it.ā
Thereās still a sense of mystery pertaining to the finished article, with the pair āclosing the curtainā as they head into pre-production. But, as Ortiz says, āitās an important antidote to the instant gratification of AI.ā He continues: āI see a lot of charges from people ā āMusicians are just mad because they canāt gatekeep music any more.ā
āI donāt want to gatekeep anything. Weāre showing people that the joy is in the process, not in jumping straight from nothing to finished product for likes and comments.ā
The Prince Of Failure story avoids specific genre tropes; Ortiz says the prog lurks āin the background for a little bit of spice and complexity.ā The music plays host to everything from dark, vampiric atmospheres stabbed with industrial crescendos to Holy Fawn-inspired āweird post-rock, shoegazey and black metal aestheticsā which darken its latter stages.
Daedric vocalist Kristyn Hope delivers a stunning duet on the disquieting Horizon, but ultimately the music serves a much larger, far more personal purpose. The rage, the pain, the uncertainty behind the songs is tangible; it fizzes and cries out of the speakers. āThe more we worked on the album together, the more honest it became,ā says Tompkins.
I was in a proper slump. Itās been the same with this: heās saved me from feeling like I canāt do it any more. Twice
Paul Ortiz
āWe were able to explore our insecurities together and get really deep with it. I think that we better understand each other now. Thereās been very few times in my musical career where Iāve clicked with someone as I do with Paul. Without him, itād be like losing an arm.ā
Thereās a fascinating sub-plot at play too ā when TesseracT and Periphery emerged as frontrunners in the djent scene of the 2010s, Ortiz, operating under his pseudonym Chimp Spanner, was rightly regarded as one of the movementās progenitors. Over time, his status has been eclipsed and he retreated into corporate music gigs. Tompkins provided a lifeline.
āBefore we did Ruins, I hadnāt picked up a guitar and written anything for years,ā Ortiz admits. āI was in a proper slump and itās been the same with this: heās saved me from feeling like I canāt do it any more. Twice.ā
Tompkins calls their ability to confide in one another āliberating.ā Itās a feeling neither wants to go without: āPrince Of Failure is something weāve built with a long-term vision in mind,ā says the singer. āWeāve already got reams of folders and old ideas; weāre evolving the project with every song.ā
Donāt expect them to announce a tour, though ā Prince Of Failure will remain a studio project for the foreseeable future, so they can write without limitations. āWe can really push things if weāre not looking at something that has to be represented on a stage,ā says Ortiz. āThereās scope for us to do things that are a lot more experimental.
āAs someone who has these big pendulum swings between loving what I do and feeling like I could happily sell my guitars and never do it again, itās really affirming to have a body of work that weāre both really proud of. That gets me excited and inspired to do more.ā
Prince Of Failure is on sale now.













