There’s a moment when the lights dim in your soul and you’re left clutching at echoes, hoping the sound will hold you together. Don Broco’s new single, “Disappear”, doesn’t just flirt with that fragile precipice—it dives straight in, heart pounding, lungs burning, a prayer scrawled in feedback and rhythm.
From the opening tonal chants, it feels like a séance. The track summons ghosts of every bad goodbye you’ve ever whispered, every night you walked out the door when staying meant self-destruction. Producer Dan Lancaster, the sonic architect behind Blink-182 and Bring Me The Horizon, builds a canvas where heartbeat drums and shimmering electronic flourishes fuse into something equal parts primal and futuristic. It’s a sound that doesn’t know boundaries, and more importantly, doesn’t care to.
Rob Damiani’s vocal performance is a testament to emotional whiplash—intimate whispers giving way to cathedral-sized cries. He sings not as a man in control but as one unraveling in real time, the guilt of self-preservation colliding with the anguish of watching someone you love implode. This isn’t the performative angst of radio rock. It’s lived-in. It’s messy. It’s the truth that bleeds through when the filters are off.
Midway, the song fractures into a drum & bass-infused breakdown, a sonic freefall that mirrors the narrative spiral. Your pulse syncs with the skittering percussion, your head filling with the dissonance of trying to leave without disappearing entirely. It’s an audio panic attack, but one laced with beauty. That’s the paradox Don Broco excel at: chaos as catharsis.
https://donbroco.ffm.to/disappear
Where earlier singles this year flexed different muscles—“Cellophane” with its nu-metal snarl, “Hype Man” with manic, swaggering bravado—“Disappear” is the raw nerve. The band strips themselves bare, proving that evolution isn’t just about genre-bending but about emotional transparency. If Don Broco have made a career out of shifting shapes, this track is the shape of survival.
Thematically, “Disappear” hits with uncomfortable honesty. To love someone through their darkness is a heroic act until it starts to consume you. The song doesn’t glorify leaving—it mourns it. The guilt in Damiani’s delivery is the hook. It lingers, long after the track’s closing reverberations, like a bruise pressed against memory.
A famous critic once wrote about music as “a sacrament in sound,” and “Disappear” embodies that ethos. It’s ritual, confession, and absolution rolled into four minutes of genre-agnostic fire. Don Broco aren’t content with safe choruses or predictable arcs. They’ve carved out a space where rock, electronic, pop, and metal collide—not in competition, but in communion.
As the band prepares to take this new era on the road, from Las Vegas to Wembley, “Disappear” feels like the song destined to anchor their setlists. It’s the piece where the crowd goes silent, arms raised not in triumph but in solidarity. Because we’ve all been there, watching love erode under the weight of life’s cruelties. And we’ve all wondered, in some quiet moment, if walking away makes us villains or survivors.
Don Broco don’t answer the question. They just soundtrack it. And in the end, maybe that’s enough.
–Lonnie Nabors