Shrouded in mystery and driven by atmosphere as much as sound, PRESIDENT is a project that thrives in the space between anonymity and impact.
With their debut EP King of Terrors, the band delivers a body of work steeped in unease, defiance, and raw catharsis... all without revealing the faces behind it. We sat down with PRESIDENT to discuss the power of imagery, the meaning behind King of Terrors, and how anonymity has shaped both their music and their message.
What drew you to anonymity as a band, and how do you see it shaping people’s first impressions of PRESIDENT?
Stepping into anonymity gave me a way to explore things I couldn’t if it was tied to my face or my past. It removes distraction. PRESIDENT isn’t about biography... it’s about impact. When people encounter it for the first time, I want the focus to be the weight of the songs and the atmosphere they create, not who’s behind them.
The masks and visuals have sparked a lot of conversation… what role does imagery play in your work?
The visuals are part of the language. The mask is both a shield and a symbol, it says the individual is secondary to the message. Religious and political iconography, ritualistic staging… they’re chosen because they provoke questions, not because they give easy answers.
What does the title King of Terrors mean to you, and why did you choose it?
It’s an old phrase for death - the ultimate leveler. Writing this record meant facing that reality without the filter of belief systems I once leaned on. Losing someone close to me forced those thoughts into the open. The title became a way of admitting that fear directly, rather than avoiding it.
Were there particular ideas or emotions you wanted to capture across these tracks?
I was writing from a place of unease, grief and searching. These songs came out of feeling disconnected and questioning what I’d been taught. But they also carry anger and defiance; the instinct to fight through that confusion rather than be crushed by it.
How did your sound evolve as you put the EP together?
It started with fragments: words, textures, sketches. The more I leaned into the discomfort, the heavier and sharper it became. Silence and fragility were treated with as much intent as distortion. Once the others joined, it stopped being just my outlet and became a collective voice that could shift between subtlety and sheer force.
Were there artists, books, or even films that fed into the writing and recording process? Any other inspirations?
I found myself reading philosophy and theology as much as listening to music. Wrestling with questions of meaning and mortality naturally bled into the writing. Musically, I’ve always been drawn to atmosphere as much as aggression... artists who build worlds, not just songs. PRESIDENT is a collision of those instincts.
Your videos carry a very cinematic quality. What inspires the way you approach visuals?
We treat them as transmissions from the same world the songs live in. They’re not literal explanations, they’re fragments designed to unsettle, to immerse, to let the citizen step inside. Everything (from the framing to the lighting) is built to feel ritualistic, like you’re witnessing part of something bigger.
How did it feel to debut live at Download Festival before releasing music?
Overwhelming. To walk out with no released songs felt like stepping into fire. But the reaction (hearing people already locked into the moment, already giving back) was shattering in the best way. It confirmed that the risk was worth it.
What moments stand out to you so far from PRESIDENT’s journey?
That first show will always be carved in. But the moments that linger are when citizens reflect the energy back - when they sing, when they wear the mask, when they tell us this project gave them something they were missing. That’s when it becomes bigger than us.
You’re set to support Architects and have headline slots booked. What excites you about that next chapter?
Scale. Taking this message into bigger rooms, with more eyes and ears, is the challenge we’ve been waiting for. Every stage is a test of how far this can go... and the aim is always to go further.
Where do you see PRESIDENT going after King of Terrors?
This record was the introduction. The next step is to dig deeper, to expand the mythology and the sound, to let PRESIDENT grow into something even more consuming. This campaign doesn’t have a finish line, it keeps moving forward.
As PRESIDENT step into their next chapter the weight of King of Terrors is only the beginning. What started as fragments of grief and questioning has grown into a shared voice, amplified by citizens who see themselves reflected in the masks and music alike. For PRESIDENT, anonymity isn’t absence; it’s a vessel for something larger, something that keeps pushing forward. And if the reaction so far is any indication, this is just the opening act of a much bigger story.
SHOP NOW
What drew you to anonymity as a band, and how do you see it shaping people’s first impressions of PRESIDENT?
Stepping into anonymity gave me a way to explore things I couldn’t if it was tied to my face or my past. It removes distraction. PRESIDENT isn’t about biography... it’s about impact. When people encounter it for the first time, I want the focus to be the weight of the songs and the atmosphere they create, not who’s behind them.
The masks and visuals have sparked a lot of conversation… what role does imagery play in your work?
The visuals are part of the language. The mask is both a shield and a symbol, it says the individual is secondary to the message. Religious and political iconography, ritualistic staging… they’re chosen because they provoke questions, not because they give easy answers.
What does the title King of Terrors mean to you, and why did you choose it?
It’s an old phrase for death - the ultimate leveler. Writing this record meant facing that reality without the filter of belief systems I once leaned on. Losing someone close to me forced those thoughts into the open. The title became a way of admitting that fear directly, rather than avoiding it.
Were there particular ideas or emotions you wanted to capture across these tracks?
I was writing from a place of unease, grief and searching. These songs came out of feeling disconnected and questioning what I’d been taught. But they also carry anger and defiance; the instinct to fight through that confusion rather than be crushed by it.
How did your sound evolve as you put the EP together?
It started with fragments: words, textures, sketches. The more I leaned into the discomfort, the heavier and sharper it became. Silence and fragility were treated with as much intent as distortion. Once the others joined, it stopped being just my outlet and became a collective voice that could shift between subtlety and sheer force.
Were there artists, books, or even films that fed into the writing and recording process? Any other inspirations?
I found myself reading philosophy and theology as much as listening to music. Wrestling with questions of meaning and mortality naturally bled into the writing. Musically, I’ve always been drawn to atmosphere as much as aggression... artists who build worlds, not just songs. PRESIDENT is a collision of those instincts.
Your videos carry a very cinematic quality. What inspires the way you approach visuals?
We treat them as transmissions from the same world the songs live in. They’re not literal explanations, they’re fragments designed to unsettle, to immerse, to let the citizen step inside. Everything (from the framing to the lighting) is built to feel ritualistic, like you’re witnessing part of something bigger.
How did it feel to debut live at Download Festival before releasing music?
Overwhelming. To walk out with no released songs felt like stepping into fire. But the reaction (hearing people already locked into the moment, already giving back) was shattering in the best way. It confirmed that the risk was worth it.
What moments stand out to you so far from PRESIDENT’s journey?
That first show will always be carved in. But the moments that linger are when citizens reflect the energy back - when they sing, when they wear the mask, when they tell us this project gave them something they were missing. That’s when it becomes bigger than us.
You’re set to support Architects and have headline slots booked. What excites you about that next chapter?
Scale. Taking this message into bigger rooms, with more eyes and ears, is the challenge we’ve been waiting for. Every stage is a test of how far this can go... and the aim is always to go further.
Where do you see PRESIDENT going after King of Terrors?
This record was the introduction. The next step is to dig deeper, to expand the mythology and the sound, to let PRESIDENT grow into something even more consuming. This campaign doesn’t have a finish line, it keeps moving forward.
As PRESIDENT step into their next chapter the weight of King of Terrors is only the beginning. What started as fragments of grief and questioning has grown into a shared voice, amplified by citizens who see themselves reflected in the masks and music alike. For PRESIDENT, anonymity isn’t absence; it’s a vessel for something larger, something that keeps pushing forward. And if the reaction so far is any indication, this is just the opening act of a much bigger story.
SHOP NOW
