Music is basically mathematics, and there is a rule. A simple one. One that is always correct. Two plus two equals four. When people start talking about supergroups, they seem to think this doesn’t apply. Prince Of Failure are a new project consisting of the instrumental virtuoso Paul Ortiz of Chimp Spanner and vocalist Daniel Tompkins from Tesseract. That is what it is. There can be no multiplier effect. However, the thing about art is that a value has weight, meaning that two plus two can equal a really good four. Once you understand how that works, you can immerse yourself in this beautifully calculated self-titled debut.
The great thing about supergroups is they answer a question: what happens when you combine two creators? That’s where the two plus two thing becomes relevant. Either the separate sounds are intertwined, or they become something else entirely. What they don’t do is magically become more. What’s interesting here, or perhaps uninteresting, is that both artists work in a similar medium. Chimp Spanner’s work is a form of modern technical metal which is akin to how Tompkins sings in Tesseract. Despite this (or perhaps because of it) Prince Of Failure’s debut album is absolutely striking.
Although their writing process has been kept secret, it’s fair to assume that multi-instrumentalist Paul Ortiz is responsible for the music. As with his work with Chimp Spanner, it combines stark guitar parts with synthesisers to create carefully crafted soundscapes that feel ‘sci-fi’ – particularly the soundtracks to dystopian, cyberpunk films released toward the end of the 1980s. Although the songs are based around djent-style guitars, each uses them in a different way. They’re varied, leaning into different grooves and always thoughtfully deployed. As a consequence, the whole album feels powerful, deep and atmospheric. It’s a contrast to the sterile, mechanical sound of Tesseract and closer to a band like Monuments or even Northlane.
Naturally, it makes sense to compare Prince Of Failure to Tesseract. There are plenty of similarities, depending on how technical you want to get. They share similar sounds and an epic sense of scale but there is something different here, it feels less restrained and more gritty – imagine the difference between shooting a movie on film or in digital; it’s more grainy and tactile. It also avoids the coldness and distance which can be a product of the djent guitar style. Rather than leaning heavily on single notes or grinding rhythms, this is warmer and, although it’s aggressive when needed, it never feels like it’s too much, and that’s partly due to Daniel Tompkins.
Daniel Tompkins is an incredible singer, but he’s also a calculated one. Indeed, it’s fascinating to learn how he works. Obviously a singer doesn’t just step up to the microphone and spill out a melody, but the way he describes his working methods is more like a craftsman taking to a piece of wood, carefully and deliberately making each choice, practising until it is precisely what was envisaged. Listen to Tompkins’ work with Tesseract, his work with White Moth Black Butterfly, or as a solo artist, and you hear that restraint. It’s often beautiful but the passion is not raw. In a way, his style erects a screen between himself and his feelings so for this project he chose to embrace them. The whole album is built around a specific topic, his experience of neurodivergence. This is a deeply personal thing but crucially to do so he has allowed himself to relax. It’s not loose or even close to feral but on songs like ‘Horizon‘ or ‘Heartless’ you hear a different character that is full of emotions; bitterness, disappointment, frustration – he’s found something new.
In this context his lyricism is striking. Notably the phrase “dream stealer” on the so-titled track, points to his own inability to fulfil his desires. It’s an idea that reappears throughout the album; the sense of feeling trapped or lost within himself, which sits neatly with the explorative music. For example, the amazing keyboard tone under ‘Moonlight’ sounds like rising bubbles, giving it a sense of claustrophobia and reflection. It’s complex and beautiful and would also make a fitting soundtrack to an underwater city.
Clearly, this is a record about emotional responses. While the lyrics make it explicit, the music deliberately explores the same themes. The synthesisers give ‘Fragile Crown’ a deeply anxious undertone, while on ‘Dream Stealer’ they sound like a stressful swarm of bees. It’s not all a downer though. The strummed guitar opening to ‘Saturn’s Shadow’ indicates the song is heading off on a different trajectory and feels brighter as a result. At its most impressive, the riff underpinning ‘Silent Throne’ has a real Tool vibe, particularly during its middle section, where it echoes back on itself and back on itself and back on itself … becoming more and more stressful until it releases in a huge explosive finale.
‘Jaded Mantra’ feels like an exhale, finally breathing out everything Tompkins has been holding inside. It’s the kind of long drawn-out sigh that ends in a sob. The song unravels its emotional self carefully, until its final moments when it becomes a huge powerful scream before dropping to a low end for its closing note. It’s an incredible way to end the journey.
Two plus two can never equal five, but as a four, the album feels whole. By working together, Tompkins and Ortiz have found a new way to express themselves. In doing so, they have made the most emotional and focused record either of them have been involved with. Prince Of Failure is a stunning, heartfelt project that has produced an equally breathtaking album.
IAN KENWORTHY
Thrashville returns to the lush bushland of Dashville in Lower Belford, Hunter Valley, on Saturday, 27 June 2026. Celebrated as the region’s heaviest music gathering, this inclusive, single-day outdoor festival delivers a high-energy feast of punk, hard rock, and heavy metal across four vibrant stages. Following a medical cancellation by US punk band FEAR, homegrown […]
