Sitting in that Southampton studio, the air is thick with the scent of ozone from a warm tube amp and the faint, woody musk of a well-traveled fretboard. Zack Miranowic is New Jersey through and through—not the neon-soaked boardwalk version, but the gritty, industrious side that produces musicians who actually know how to tune their own gear. He sits surrounded by a small army of instruments, each one looking like it has a story it is not quite ready to tell yet.
His latest offering, "Seems Like Yesterday," is not just another track for the algorithm. It is a dense, layered piece of work that feels like it was pulled directly from the marrow of a guy who has spent a lot of time staring at the dash of a tour van. It hits on those universal nerves: realization, loss and the kind of nostalgia that actually hurts a little bit.
The track moves with a certain weight. It is not heavy in the sense of a distorted bass line, but heavy in its emotional gravity. It captures that specific brand of Jersey melancholy that feels both claustrophobic and infinite.
“‘Seems Like Yesterday’ was inspired by those moments in life that hit you,” Miranowic says, leaning back. “You also realize how many new people you’ve met along the way and how many big decisions you have had to make to get to where you are. In the heat of it all, it feels like forever, but in hindsight, it seems like it was literally yesterday.”
That sentiment is the engine of the song. We all think we are moving through treacle when we are in the middle of a crisis or a major life pivot. But Miranowic’s perspective suggests that time is a bit of a con artist. One day you are deciding which bridge to burn, and the next, you are looking at the ashes wondering how the years vanished.
Musically, the song is a flex of his technical muscles without being showy. The guitar chords are evocative, ringing out with a clarity that suggests he spent hours chasing the right tone. His vocals are authentic, devoid of the over-processed sheen that kills so much modern rock. There is a grit there that feels earned.
Each note he hits feels like a beckoning. He is asking the listener to go back through their own archives. It is a personal trip, sure, but it is one that feels universal because everyone has those "how did I get here?" moments.
Miranowic is not some kid who just found a DAW and a dream. His resume is a laundry list of hard-earned credits across the spectrum. You have the blunt-force trauma of Sekond Skyn and the technical aggression of Disciples Of Verity, where he shared space with Living Colour legend Corey Glover. Then you have Riversend, which is a completely different beast—ethereal, moody and art-focused.
This solo venture, however, feels like the centre of his musical universe. It is where the blues meets heavy metal, and where southern rock gets a sophisticated infusion of jazz fusion. It shouldn't work on paper, but Miranowic has the hands to make it make sense.
“My solo project lets me be totally myself,” he says, and there is a visible spark when he talks about the autonomy. “Working with other musicians is a rewarding experience, but sometimes you just want to do what you want without worrying if someone else will try to change your vision. Over the years I’ve learned to appreciate many musical styles and have tried my hardest to adapt what I can into my guitar playing and songwriting.”
I think the listener will feel a little somber, reflective, and maybe even nostalgic. Hopefully, they can think forward to a more positive life ahead.
There is a lesson there for the purists. He is not interested in staying in one lane just to satisfy a genre tag. He is looking for the "new," even if it means alienating the folks who just want him to play 4/4 metal riffs all day.
“Obviously, you should maintain the core of what makes you who you are, but you should always be willing to throw a little something new out there occasionally to keep it fresh,” he adds. “When you do that, you get something totally new, unique, and exciting.”
His 2022 debut album, *Fear*, was a deep dive into the things that keep a songwriter up at 3 a.m. It wasn't just about monsters under the bed; it was about the psychological weight of existing in an unpredictable world. He uses music as a way to dissect these anxieties rather than just complaining about them.
“Each song represents a fear of mine that manifests itself in one big collection of ideas,” he says. He talks about these tracks like they are chapters in a journal he finally decided to publish.
Take the track ‘Misfortune.’ It captures that specific anxiety of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It is a very human feeling—that suspicion that if things are going too well, a catastrophe must be lurking just around the corner.
“For example, ‘Misfortune’ is about when life is going great, but worrying about when the tables will turn on you again,” he explains. “Worrying about life’s unknowns and what is going to go wrong in the very near future. Another example is ‘Fading Out’. A message that conveys that sometimes you need to find the strength to take a step back and separate from things or even people that are causing you stress and negativity in your life.”
That second part is a hard truth. Separation is a survival tactic. In ‘Fading Out,’ you can hear the sonic representation of that distance being created. It is a liberation song, but it is wrapped in the tension of the struggle to get away.
Now, he is looking toward the *Cryin’ Out* EP. If *Fear* was about the internal struggle, this new work feels like it is about the external choices we make. It is a pivot toward agency.
“‘Cryin’ Out’ focuses on making choices,” Miranowic says. “Whether to live your life in the light or in the dark. Choosing to look at the positives or harp on the negatives.”
It is a binary choice, but the music suggests the grey areas in between are where the real interest lies. He is navigating the modern music industry with that same sense of pragmatism. The days of the "just a guitarist" are dead. You have to be everything at once now.
“Music has become more universal with more emphasis on D.I.Y. As a musical artist these days, you seemingly must be a jack of all trades,” he remarks. It is a blunt assessment of the labour required to stay relevant when everyone has a recording studio in their pocket.
Then there is Riversend. It is a project he shares with his girlfriend, Olivia Horovitz. It is the softer, more atmospheric side of his coin. It is where the haunt happens.
“Our vision was to convey a haunting and emotional musical atmosphere,” he says, reflecting on the project’s inception. “We wanted to create a blend inspired by Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, and The Cranberries.”
You can hear those influences—the space of Floyd, the melodic tension of Mac and the raw vocal honesty of The Cranberries. It is a sophisticated palette for a guy who can also rip a metal solo that would melt the paint off a wall.
But it is the solo stuff that really lets you see the man behind the curtain. "Seems Like Yesterday" is the latest window into that soul. It is unfiltered, and in an industry built on filters, that is a rare commodity.
When you ask him what he wants people to take away from the new single, he doesn't give you a marketing blurb. He gives you a mood. He wants you to feel the weight of your own history.
“I think the listener will feel a little somber, reflective, and maybe even nostalgic,” he says. “Hopefully, they can think forward to a more positive life ahead.”
In a world that is moving at a breakneck pace, Miranowic is forcing us to slow down. He is giving us a reason to look back, not to get stuck there, but to figure out how to move forward without losing ourselves in the process.
