Looking at the raw transcripts from our conversation with Daniel “DL” Laskiewicz on Oct. 29, 2021, is to revisit a band at a genuine crossroads. This wasn’t just another album cycle. This was a total reset. Bad Wolves had just weathered one of the most public and acrimonious splits in recent memory with former vocalist Tommy Vext. And on the very day of this interview, their new album Dear Monsters was hitting the streets. The pressure was astronomical. DL wasn't just a new singer; he was the man tasked with saving the entire enterprise.
The album's rollout had been a careful strategic exercise. Two tracks were already out, “Lifeline” and “House of Cards,” testing the waters with a fanbase still reeling from the lineup change. But DL is quick to clarify the intent behind that second track. It wasn't about chasing radio play. It was about managing expectations and signaling a shift in the band’s sonic architecture.
“House of Cards really isn't, per se, just like a single,” he says. “I think it was just the track that we all agreed that was kind of like the next step to kind of showcasing the bridging the gap between the more melodic and the heavy side of the band.” This wasn't just a song release; it was a mission statement. It was the band telegraphing that the core DNA was intact but the delivery system was evolving.
And that evolution is undeniably tied to DL’s own musical sensibilities. When pressed on whether he brought a more melodic focus to the band, his answer is immediate and direct. Yes. This wasn’t an accident. It was a conscious decision to leverage their new asset. The band didn't just replace a singer; they recalibrated their entire creative approach around a new voice.
“It was just kind of something that the band really kind of wanted to touch upon and maybe even just really kind of utilize the new style that I bring to the table and try some new things that haven't really been tried in the past,” DL explains. “So we definitely kind of got to stretch our legs a little bit.” That stretch is most apparent on tracks like “Springfield Summer,” a song that veers into an entirely unexpected lane.
The track is a deeply personal one for Laskiewicz, an ode to his hometown of Springfield, Massachusetts. But its acoustic-driven structure and almost contemporary country feel caught many off guard. It was a bold move and one that risked alienating a metal audience. DL, however, presents its creation as something far more organic and less calculated. It was a product of chemistry, a remote writing session between him and drummer John Boecklin.
“It started off with an acoustic riff that John had been kicking around forever,” he recalls. “And yeah, we just took it from there and built a song that we enjoyed.” While he dismisses any intentional country influence, the song remains a fascinating outlier in their catalogue. It’s a testament to the band’s willingness to follow a creative impulse wherever it led, even if it took them far from their established sound.
That philosophy of creative freedom is central to DL’s entire approach. He resists the idea of a secret formula for songwriting. For him, the only rule is authenticity. The album’s opener “Sacred Kiss” is a perfect example, a track that builds from a mellow hook into a full-throated assault. It feels designed, yet DL insists its power comes from a much simpler place.
Every guy in the band can almost be a producer in their own right. So it's it's like stupid not to utilize that and it it's it's really nice to to have that level of talent in a group where it just things just kinda flow.
“The most important thing to songwriting is writing music that you believe in, that you're actually a fan of,” he states. “And that's, you know, if you're a fan of it, then it's a lot easier for other people to be a fan of it.” It’s a sentiment that can sound like standard artist PR, but coming from him at this specific moment, it carried significant weight.
He elaborates on this point, revealing a perspective forged from years on the other side of the glass. “I've worked on a lot of records in my career, and this is definitely like one of the first ones that I can listen to the stuff still as a fan,” DL admits. “Usually in the past, my experience making a record, you really tend to get tired of the material by the end of it... But with this album, I can kind of safely say that I can listen to the stuff still as a fan, and I still like, just, I view this album almost as an outsider still.”
This unique viewpoint stems from his extensive background as a producer, which dominated his career for nearly a decade before joining Bad Wolves. He learned the craft by observing masters like Adam Dutkiewicz of Killswitch Engage and producer Chris “Zeuss” Harris. That experience informs not only his vocals but his entire understanding of a song’s construction.
His entry into production wasn't formal. It was born from pure fascination and a DIY ethos cultivated in the early days of internet forums where knowledge was a shared commodity. “The creative process is just so fascinating to me,” he says. “And then you can kind of bend and shape audio and do things that, you know, limitless things.” This producer’s mindset is now a core component of the Bad Wolves machine.
That collaborative spirit is something he sees as essential for the band's future. The writing process for Dear Monsters was fluid and varied, but DL emphasizes a desire to make it even more democratic moving forward. “Every guy in the band can almost be a producer in their own right,” he notes. “So it's like stupid not to utilize that.” It’s a clear signal of a shift towards a more unified creative front.
Of course, DL is also a formidable guitarist, a fact not lost on anyone familiar with his tenure in the three-guitar onslaught of The Acacia Strain. But for now, he’s focused on mastering the frontman role. The idea of Bad Wolves becoming a three-guitar band has been floated, but it’s not a priority. He needed to step out from behind the instrument to fully embody his new position.
The band's label, Better Noise Music, was also making moves, branching into filmmaking with projects like The Retaliators. While DL wasn’t involved, he acknowledges the artistic drive that connects music and film. It’s all part of the same creative impulse, a mindset shared by his bandmates like Doc Coyle, who made an appearance in the movie.
The pandemic paradoxically provided the perfect incubator for this new version of Bad Wolves. The enforced downtime gave them the luxury of time, a rare commodity in the relentless churn of a normal record cycle. It allowed them to live with the songs, refine them, and solidify their new identity without the pressure of an impending tour.
“We were able to wrap a song and then kind of come back to it maybe even a month or two later because we had the luxury of, you know, just having time ahead of us,” DL reflects. “That might be one of the reasons why we feel that this album is so special because we really kind of had a chance to let it sink in and simmer.”
As the world slowly reopened, the future was still uncertain. A planned tour with Disturbed had been postponed, a common story in 2021. But new plans were taking shape, a massive tour package with Papa Roach and Hollywood Undead slated for February 2022. It was the tangible next step, the moment this new lineup would finally be tested on stage.
Revisiting this conversation, it’s clear DL Laskiewicz was the calm center of a creative hurricane. He stepped into an impossible situation not with bravado but with a quiet confidence rooted in his love for the craft. Dear Monsters was more than a comeback album; it was a statement of resilience. It was the sound of a band rebuilding itself from the ground up, led by a frontman who was also one of its chief architects.
519 Magazine Archive: We are thrilled to officially unearth the 519 Magazine Digital Vault. This isn't just a re-post; it's a high-fidelity restoration of a pivotal era in music journalism. By pairing original print dates with modern retrospectives, we’re bridging the gap between historical rock-and-roll grit and the lightning-fast performance of today’s web. These stories—once locked in physical print and lost URLs—are now back, fully searchable, and optimized for a new generation of fans.
We are thrilled to officially unearth the 519 Magazine Digital Vault. This isn't just a re-post; it's a high-fidelity restoration of a pivotal era in music journalism. By pairing original print dates with modern retrospectives, we're bridging the gap between historical rock-and-roll grit and the lightning-fast performance of today's web. These stories—once locked in physical print and lost URLs—are now back, fully searchable, and optimized for a new generation of fans.
