At the crossroads where identity, energy, and attitude collide without asking permission, Night Ritualz emerges as one of the most visceral and unpredictable acts of the new alternative wave. Led by Vincent, the project is rooted in the streets of San Antonio and shaped by a natural fusion of cultures, languages, and influences—from post-punk to industrial, with Latin textures that give it a distinct signature. The result is a hybrid sonic universe where English and Spanish coexist with the same emotional intensity.

By Sandra Pinto

With the new album Time Is A Thief, Night Ritualz further deepens that identity, exploring themes of time, urgency, and lived experience through a raw, unfiltered approach. In this interview, Vincent takes us into the core of his self-described “fuck wave”—a concept as provocative as it is liberating—and reveals the creative process behind a project that refuses labels and turns every song into a direct extension of his reality.

Vincent, your sound is a true cultural collision. How has San Antonio and your Latin roots shaped the DNA of this project, especially in the way you blend English and Spanish to tell these deeply personal stories?
Well, in San Antonio, it’s just like everybody speaks Spanish, everybody speaks English, and a lot of the music people listen to is like Tejano or cumbia—really heavy on both. They call it Spanglish or Tex-Mex. That was always there, always inevitable, and I speak like that normally. For me, it was a huge San Antonio thing, so it just felt easy to do that.

You’ve coined your genre as ‘fuck wave.’ What does this term represent to you that traditional darkwave or post-punk fails to capture?
The term “fuck wave” just means super cool and makes you want to be down and do cool shit. But also, I feel like a lot of people care what others think, so “fuck wave” is a big fuck you. We’re not shy, we’re not scared to move, not scared to dance—we’re loud, powerful, and we don’t give a fuck in the best way possible. We’re not trying to be pigeonholed. It’s just more energy.

You are releasing ‘Time Is A Thief’ just a year after your self-titled debut. Do you feel this new record is a direct response to the urgency of time, as the title suggests?
Absolutely. I just want to make as much music as I can and capture the moment the way I feel. You can write a song and store it, but if you drop it six months later, it’s not gonna hit the same. Sonically people might think it’s new, but for you, the feeling isn’t. So time is a thief—it’s about exploring those emotions and getting them out so people can feel what you feel. That’s the truest way to show the art.

Your singles showcase very different facets: ‘Brown Sugar’ is an unapologetic expression of identity and social commentary, while ‘Whoreish’ dives into heavy Industrial/EBM. How do you maintain the cohesion of Night Ritualz while navigating such distinct sonic territories?
I feel like that’s the easy part. With the live show, it’s about taking people on a trip. A Night Ritualz show is like a movie—it has an intro, a climax, slow moments, all of it. It depends on the show and the feeling. On record, things might sound different, but when you hear the full album, it takes you on a journey. Live, I curate it so it blends seamlessly—you wouldn’t even notice the differences.

‘Un Tiro’ (One Shot) brings an early ’80s indie-pop vibe that feels lighter than your previous work. Was it a conscious choice to explore a more melodic or “solar” side in this new chapter?
Absolutely. I wanted to play more guitar on this album, so a lot of songs were written with multiple guitar parts and built for a live vibe. I didn’t want to just repeat the first album—I wanted to be more versatile for different shows and festivals. I wrote it to work as a full band or a three-piece. And yeah, I wanted it to feel dreamy and vibey. That song was actually the first one that made me realize, “yo, this could be a real album.”

Growing up with Depeche Mode, Deftones, and At The Drive-In offers a mix of synth mastery and visceral aggression. How does the legacy of bands like At The Drive-In influence the chaotic energy found in your beats?
At The Drive-In is from El Paso—Hell Paso—and that wild energy stuck with me. The first show I ever went to was The Mars Volta. I saw these two Mexican dudes with afros going crazy and I was like, “who the fuck is that? That’s sick.” I didn’t even know their music yet, but their energy made me a fan instantly. That’s what I try to bring—when you see it live, it pulls you in and gets you addicted.

As an artist who writes about survival and struggle, how cathartic was the recording process of this second album compared to your first release?
The first release, I didn’t really know what I was doing—I was just dropping singles and figuring it out. With the second album, I actually sat down and wrote with intention. Once I landed on the theme of Time Is A Thief, I just ran with it. I went off emotion and inspiration—whatever came out, that was it. It wasn’t difficult, it felt natural. All my songs are real—no fake shit, no trying to sound cool. It’s all story, all chapters.

Now that you are part of the Metropolis Records family, what can we expect from the live translation of ‘Time Is A Thief’? How do you plan to bring these “night rituals” to the stage?
It’s about taking people on a journey. For fans who already know the music, that’s dope—but for new people, I want the live show to capture you instantly. We’ve got some big tours this year, about two months straight this summer, so I’m excited to really bring that to life and lock people in.

The title ‘Time Is A Thief’ sounds like a warning. What is the most precious thing you feel time has stolen from you, and how did that loss fuel the fire for this record?
Potential. You gotta capitalize in the moment because it’s not always gonna be there. Time reminds you to be ready, to appreciate everything, and to actually feel things. We’re always chasing the next thing, but you gotta appreciate what’s in front of you because it’ll be gone—beauty fades. Just be present and enjoy the ride.

Your music is described as “universally relatable” despite being so personal. How do you find the balance between exposing your own scars and creating something that a fan on the other side of the world can claim as their own?
Honestly, I don’t try to be relatable—I just tell my story. I think people connect with it because I’m just a regular person, like them. I’m simple, I live below my means, and sometimes I don’t know how to express myself, so I do it through music. That’s it. The fact that people resonate with it—that’s the best part. Music is medicine, it’s healing, and that’s what makes me the happiest.