You can usually tell when a hardcore band is about to hit the next level. Early evening basement shows give way to proper theatres, support slots with cult heroes and, sometimes, a barrier between stage and crowd. For Texan five-piece I Promised The World, that moment is now.
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Over the past year, they’ve stepped onto bigger stages, winning over crowds who might not yet know their name; they supported Deafheaven last year and are now gearing up for a run with The Devil Wears Prada. Packed rooms and festival slots have sharpened their reputation for shows that barely feel like performances at all, more like open invitations, with 21-year-old frontman and vocalist Hunter Wilson intent on turning passive audiences into active participants.
But levelling up brings its own frustrations. Barriers that separate bands from crowds run counter to everything they believe metal or hardcore should be. “It ruins the whole thing… It ruins the whole vibe. I hate playing barrier shows with all of my heart,” Wilson tells NME over Zoom while packing up his room in his parents’ house in Denton, preparing to move into his first home with his long-term girlfriend. As he speaks, there’s no sense of calculation, just a restless honesty that mirrors the band’s music.
It’s not necessarily the size of the room that bothers him, we find out. If anything, he finds large crowds less intimidating than intimate rooms, relishing the chance to win over unfamiliar faces and turn curiosity into chaos. It’s that word-of-mouth energy, carried from sweaty local shows to bigger bills, that’s made them hard to ignore in the US underground.
“When I write a song, it’s because I don’t want to have a conversation about something. I’d rather just scream it at strangers”
The band began, as many do, as a group of high school friends. Wilson and guitarist/co-vocalist Caleb Molina first bonded over skateboarding and a mutual love of Slowdive, alongside the wider 4AD catalogue. By 2022, they had enlisted guitarist Mason Nowlin, bassist Rivers Shutt and drummer Mason Zschau from various other local bands and side projects. Though they started off named Sinema, the group realised “how many other Sinemas there were in the world”, Wilson says. So, they pivoted to I Promised The World, a lyric from the Saosin song ‘Translating The Name’ that they’d already been using as a username across social channels.
Growing up around Midwest emo bills and DIY shows left a lasting imprint on the band’s sound. “There were a lot more screamo bands here [in Denton, Texas], which definitely had an influence,” Wilson says. But beneath the music sits a more personal origin story. I Promised The World first began as an emotional outlet in the wake of Molina’s father’s death following a prolonged hospitalisation caused by COVID-19. The group’s debut EP, 2023’s ‘After the Flatline’, even features a printed strip of his final heartbeat.
That experience had a direct impact on the band’s creative expression. “Instrumentally, everything’s up for debate,” Wilson explains, “But lyrically, whatever’s written is written. That’s not really something we change: it’s more of an outlet, an expression of grief, not just something you put in because it sounds cool.” Communication hasn’t always been easy, he adds, though it has improved as the group left school and reached their early twenties. “Especially at the beginning, it wasn’t the most healthy, but it’s definitely gotten a lot better over time.”
I Promised The World. Credit: Oscar Rodriguez
That emotional directness runs through their catalogue, from the anger and uncertainty of 2024’s ‘Fear Of The Fall’ to more recent songs, which balance introspection with a growing sense of purpose. Writing is less about storytelling and more about survival. “When I write a song, it’s because I don’t want to have a conversation about something,” Wilson says. “I’d rather just scream it at strangers.”
Late last year, I Promised The World signed to Rise Records (Of Mice & Men, Spiritbox, The Devil Wears Prada). The move “completely changed my perspective on my life,” Wilson says. “Now the sky is the limit.” It brought a new seriousness and influenced personal choices, including embracing a straight-edge lifestyle, reinforcing the idea that the band could be more than a hobby that went too far.
Time on the road has reinforced the importance of presence and mutual respect. “When we were on tour with Deafheaven, before they would play, they’d put all their hands in and say, ‘No matter what happens, I love you,’” Wilson recalls. “And that’s something important we took away.”
“Instrumentally, everything’s up for debate. But lyrically, whatever’s written is written”
I Promise The World thrive on tension. Their self-titled EP, released in January, collides post-hardcore melodies with abrasive screamo, offering fleeting calm before explosive breakdowns – something Wilson isn’t keen to abandon anytime soon. “Caleb keeps saying maybe we should have fewer breakdowns or be a little less heavy,” he laughs. “But I don’t think that’s happening. Everyone else is kind of in the business of adding more, because they’re just so fun to play.”
The EP, importantly, catches them still figuring out who they are. “I’ll try to say goodbye to the past / ’cause the future is in my hands,” Wilson sings on ‘Future Worth Dying For’. “I think that’s the best song we’ve ever made,” he says now, praising both the melodies and what he considers his strongest lyrics to date. Another standout is ‘Bliss in Seven Languages’, which draws from relationship upheaval and the uncertainty of pursuing music seriously. That willingness to be vulnerable gives their heavier passages added weight. Instrumentals evolve collaboratively, while lyrics are drawn from a single, ever-growing Notes app entry. “You scroll for a million years,” Wilson laughs.
Recordings are only one side of I Promised The World. Their live shows are the full experience and are built on the participative, communal energy that charges, say, Title Fight gigs, where audience and band blur into one. “The goal is just to have as much crowd participation as possible,” Wilson says. “Don’t just stand there, it’s a hardcore show.” Rather than feeling discouraged by unfamiliar crowds, he treats them as motivation. “If you’re standing still, then I’m not doing enough.”
I Promised The World. Credit: Oscar Rodriguez
Away from the stage, life for I Promised The World remains relatively low-key: gym sessions, video games, skating and catching friends’ bands. But subtle signs of career growth are creeping in. Wilson has started to be recognised around town and is seeing new faces at hometown shows. “It’s nice to know you haven’t maxed out your fans at home,” he says.
The scale of the band’s rising success has taken time to sink in, but Wilson had an inkling that they could soar. During a late-night pizza run (shortly after taking an edible), they were listening back to early demos of what would become their EP when Wilson suddenly felt the possibility of it all hitting him. “I started getting super amped up and gave this big motivational speech,” he laughs. “I was like, ‘We’re awesome and we’re gonna make a million dollars and be the biggest band ever.’”
Despite that weed-fuelled flash of world-conquering ambition, Wilson is clear that I Promised The World is a band built on shared chaos rather than separation. Bigger stages simply mean bigger invitations to join in. Even if the audience keeps growing, the plan remains simple: scream louder, pull your neighbours in and make sure no one is standing still.
I Promised The World’s self-titled EP is out now via Rise Records. They tour the US with The Devil Wears Prada this month
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