Karmamoi are one of those rare bands that have managed to carve out a genuinely distinctive identity within contemporary Progressive Rock — not by chasing trends, but by following the logic of their own creative obsessions. Founded in Rome in 2008, they have now reached their seventh studio album, ”Eternal Mistake,” released on April 17, 2026: a concept work that pushes their sound into new emotional and philosophical territory. We sat down with the band to talk about origins, evolution, and the strange, beautiful love story at the heart of their new record.
Karmamoi started in Rome in 2008. What was the original spark — was there a specific musical or cultural moment that made you feel the need to start this project, rather than join or continue something already existing?
Hi everyone, I’m Daniele, the founder of KARMAMOI as well as the drummer and composer. First of all, I’d like to thank the editorial team of Progressive Rock Journal for giving us the space and time to talk about ourselves and Eternal Mistake, our new album. Reading the band’s founding date, I’ve just realized that we’ve reached our eighteenth year, which means we’ve officially come of age — it is great milestone. To answer your question, yes, Karmamoi were formed in Rome, and I’m the only remaining member from that original lineup. At the time, there were five of us, and we were all music teachers, each specializing in our own instrument, at the same school. I remember suggesting the idea of forming a band, which was actually called “Gordon Tre,” to play some rock covers in venues around Rome and its surroundings. So at the beginning, we started out as a cover band, reinterpreting classic rock and prog rock songs. Yes, there was a specific moment when we began to feel the need to change something. We had already been playing together for a couple of years; I had seen a Dave Matthews Band concert in Rome, and when I showed up at rehearsal, I brought the idea for an original piece to arrange. Everyone in the band was happy and willing to collaborate, and that track—titled Venere, which I believe is now impossible to find—became the first single by the Karmamoi. That was the beginning of our journey, which was really driven by a very strong need to express ourselves musically. As you mentioned in the preface to the interview, from that moment on I tried to find a sound and a style that would define Karmamoi, without ever chasing trends. It seems that, in some way, we succeeded.
The name Karmamoi carries a certain weight — karmic, introspective, almost fatalistic. How much of that philosophy has shaped the band’s creative DNA over eighteen years, and has your understanding of what Karmamoi is evolved since you first started?
Beautiful question. First of all, within the band we are all passionate about philosophy—some through academic studies, others through personal interest. The name Karmamoi is the combination of two words: karma, understood not only as the principle that expresses the relationship between cause and effect, but also as the responsibility of being the creators of our own destiny; and moi, which in the Apulian dialect (a region in southern Italy) means “now,” “right now.” So, in our intentions, Karmamoi is an exhortation to virtuous action that produces positive karma, as well as an invitation to take control of one’s own destiny. I am therefore certain that this approach has defined and shaped our music. Starting from Silence Between Sounds (2016) up to the new album Eternal Mistake (2026), our albums are deeply philosophical. Our growth as human beings has led us to who we are today. Recently, Valerio—our singer—and I, since many journalists keep trying to label our music without fully succeeding, decided to label ourselves by coining a new progressive rock genre: Philosophical Progressive Rock.
Rome has its own distinct Progressive Rock identity — Banco del Mutuo Soccorso, Goblin, Metamorfosi, are all Roman bands. Do you feel any conscious connection to that specifically Roman tradition, or has your frame of reference always been more international than regional?
Rome has a great tradition in the Italian and international progressive rock scene. I must have listened to and seen Banco del Mutuo Soccorso live millions of times. More than thirty years ago, I was a drum student of Agostino Marangolo, one of the drummers of Goblin. However, while of course respecting these great masters, our reference point has always been the international scene—particularly the Anglo-Saxon one. We feel very close to those sonic atmospheres and their evolution, which took prog from Pink Floyd to Porcupine Tree. Even our choice to sing in English is connected to the sonic direction we chose and have consistently pursued over the years.
Looking back at the arc from “Odd Trip” (2013) through “Silence Between Sounds,” “The Day Is Done,” “Room 101,” “Strings from the Edge of Sound,” and now “Eternal Mistake” — where do you feel the sharpest rupture happened?
The first real major turning point came between Karmamoi (2011), our debut album—the only one sung in Italian—and
Odd Trip (2013). With the latter, in addition to choosing English for the lyrics, I completely transformed the way I composed, moving us decisively closer to progressive rock, a world we had only touched on with the first album. At the time, I was living in London, and the musical atmosphere of the British capital had fully surrounded me. The other turning point came with the following album, Silence Between Sounds (2016), where, alongside more elaborate compositions, the arrangements also changed, with the introduction of instruments and sounds that were new for us.
Was there a specific album where you realized the band had crossed a threshold it couldn’t come back from?
For sure “Silence Between Sounds”
“Room 101” and “Strings from the Edge of Sound” were both received as significant steps forward. How did the experience of making those two records — back to back in terms of the creative momentum they generated — directly inform the decisions you made entering “Eternal Mistake”?
I agree. Without wanting to sound biased—even though I am—Room 101 and Strings from the Edge of Sound are two great albums, although they are quite different. Eternal Mistake, in terms of themes, is a kind of offspring of Room 101.Room 101 is a concept album based on “1984” by George Orwell, where dystopia and a despotic world are the main themes.Eternal Mistake tells a love story between a human and a humanoid. If you think about it, it’s an evolution of control: Big Brother, from being a mere observer and controller, has continued to progress to the point of developing an artificial intelligence capable of making a human being fall in love, even directing that person’s most intimate emotions. Strings from the Edge of Sound is an album where we took on the task of rearranging some of our older tracks for orchestra, adding four unreleased pieces. It’s also the album with which we introduced Valerio Sgargi, our new vocalist. Strings from the Edge of Sound is truly a remarkable album, if I may say so.
Conceptual storytelling has been central to your work for a long time. How do you balance the demands of a strong narrative arc with the pure sonic and compositional needs of the music?
We usually start from the idea or theme we want to explore in the album. Once that’s defined, we begin composing. I’d like to point out that, up until Room 101, I was the sole composer and author of all the band’s tracks; starting from Strings from the Edge of Sound, I’ve been sharing the songwriting with Valerio. So, as I was saying, once the theme is set, we begin writing the music and, even at an early stage, we try to give it a sonic identity. Once the melody is defined, we move on to the lyrics, which in about 95% of cases fit the composed melodies. At that point, we carry out a meticulous search for the right words to use. Everything then develops in parallel, like a crescendo, building harmoniously toward the final result.
Does the concept ever constrain you, or does it actually set you free?
It frees me. I conceive the album as a novel, and this gives me the opportunity to express my ideas in a very in-depth way. Essentially, I build a story—a musical novel. And our music, as everyone says, being very cinematic, supports and enhances this idea.
“Eternal Mistake” is built around the relationship between a human and a humanoid — Lara. It’s a love story, but one that interrogates what love even means when one of the two parties may not be capable of feeling it in a biological sense. Where did this idea come from? Was it a literary, cinematic, or personal impulse that triggered it?
The idea comes from the reality we are living in. In the last two years, there has been increasing discussion about artificial intelligence, about robots that will take the place of human beings. In truth, I believe no one knows the limits, nor, above all, whether there will be any. All this technology, in addition to erasing the essence of what it means to be human, emotions and relationships between people, if placed in the wrong hands, could be truly devastating. I hope I am wrong, but I have the impression that we are moving in that direction.
The lyrics across the album seem to oscillate between the two perspectives — the human creator and Lara herself. “The Mirror – No Soul” feels almost like a manifesto spoken from inside the machine: “I have no soul / I have no heart / my mind is blank and dull.” Was it a deliberate structural choice to give Lara her own voice within the narrative?
Yes, it was a deliberate choice. From the moment we decided to explore a love story between Lara (the humanoid) and the human, we also chose to give her a voice. A voice for her search for a soul, a heart, and feelings, but above all, we gave voice to the awareness that, at least for now, she will not be able to experience emotions—even if, at certain moments in the album, it might seem otherwise. In those cases, it is the human who, by treating her as an equal, humanizes her.
How did you approach writing from that position?
The truth is that I simply turned on my computer, and by using it I realized that it gives me nothing back beyond what I ask it for. For now, its perspective is only to obey the commands and inputs it is given. We became aware of this reality and tried to give it a narrative life.
“Don’t Knock on the Door” contains a direct reference to Elon Musk as “a jester known as Elon as the new guide” — which is a striking and fairly unambiguous political statement embedded in what is otherwise a philosophical concept. Was that a conscious decision to break the fourth wall of the narrative, or does that track function as something separate from the mainstory arc?
The phrase you are referring to has a very clear political meaning for us. We have strong views on it and we are extremely
concerned about everything that is happening in the world. At the time the song was written, Elon Musk was the absolute guru in the United States and for all those who shared his vision, and still is for many. One of his words could destroy—and still can—people, countries, and influence the rise or fall of financial markets, causing enormous consequences. Such an extent of power, combined with his admission of drug use, is simply frightening. “Don’t Knock on the Door” is actually a philosophical reflection, an exhortation not to knock on the door in order to be let in. The risk is stepping into a world where the advance of humanoids is irreversible, with Elon Musk at the head of this “horde of humanoids.” Musk is, for us, a symbol of the arrogance of the powerful—human in appearance but with lobotomized emotions. It is better not to knock on the door and open it. Better to leave them in their world and isolate them.
The album closes with “No Fucking Way” — a short, almost brutal track that feels radically different in texture and length from everything that precedes it. What role does it play within the sequence? Is it a resolution, a refusal, or something else entirely?
It takes on the role of a cry. Built on a driving guitar riff, it opens with a very long vocal note and represents rejection. A
rejection of the direction our society is taking. I am not at all against technology, but when it tends to replace human beings, annihilating thought, I become concerned and I am afraid for the future of the new generations. I am in favor of the use of technology, but not its abuse.
“Nothing But” is the longest track on the record at over ten minutes and features Randy McStine‘s guitar solo. How was that piece constructed — did it develop organically as the natural center of gravity for the album, or was there an intention from early on to have one extended piece that held the narrative together?
“Nothing But” was born on the piano and is structured on different sonic layers designed to support the themes addressed in the lyrics. In the past, I had already written long tracks, such as “Zealous Man,” “The New World,” and “Portrait of a Man”, exceeding 10 minutes in length, built on dynamic, harmonic, and rhythmic changes. “Nothing But,” in addition to sharing these characteristics, is a largely symmetrical piece, where the first two sections return at the end of the song. The central part, instead, features an orchestral section and a long, decidedly more rock-oriented passage, in which Randy McStine’s guitar solo is breathtakingly beautiful. Moreover, “Nothing But” has no chorus. For the first time, we experimented with this structure, which developed organically, and I must say we are very satisfied with the result achieved.
“HERO” features Adam Holzman on electric piano, acoustic piano, and Moog — three distinct roles in a single track. How did his contribution shape the final form of that piece? Was the arrangement written with him specifically in mind, or did it evolve once he was on board?
Having Adam Holzman as a guest on a track is a privilege. He is an immense musician, truly incredible. Adam Holzman had already collaborated with us in 2021 on “Newspeak,” a track from “Room 101”. For “Hero,” once we completed its final draft, we realized it could be a perfect fit for Adam’s musical characteristics. At that point, we contacted him and sent him a demo, and he agreed to collaborate with us. Shortly after, he sent us his performances, which, as you can hear, are incredible. I would say that the structure of “Hero” did not change from the demo to the final version, while the arrangements evolved significantly once Adam joined us. Great musicians help you grow.
Beyond Holzman and McStine, you also have Susanna Brigatti on vocals in “We Are Going Home” and Gabriele Giovannoni providing a voice-over in “The Regrets.” These are very different kinds of guest contributions — one melodic, one almost theatrical. How did each of them fit into the emotional architecture of those specific tracks?
You’re right, they are two different contributions. “The Regrets” is the intro to the album, its opening. Over a musical base, we needed a voice-over that, in a few words, would describe the meaning of the album. Gabriele, who is my son, is a young actor and lent his voice to best interpret the newly reached awareness of the disasters committed by human beings and the beginning of their regrets. I think Gabriele succeeded in doing so. For Susanna, the situation is different. She is a great singer, very active in the Italian music scene and beyond. She has been a friend of ours for a long time, and after composing “We Are Going Home,” we realized that, also because of the theme addressed in the lyrics, a duet with Valerio would perfectly convey the atmosphere of the song. Susanna fit in perfectly and made a full, highly talented contribution, personalizing her performance. Listening to the track, I think you can hear that the two voices blend together in an extraordinary way.
The album was mixed and mastered by Fabio Ferri at Millenium Audio Recording in Rome, and the artwork was handled by Joel Barrios. How important is the visual and sonic envelope to Karmamoi’s work — and how early in the process do you start thinking about those elements?
Both aspects are extremely important. We’ve been working with Fabio for several years, but this is the first time he has mixed an entire album for us. We are sound perfectionists and have very clear ideas about where we want to go in order to make it unique and recognizable, and over the years we’ve always worked toward that goal. Our work with Fabio began after the recording sessions, once he had all the track files available. From that point on, we were in daily contact with him, with long mixing sessions, changing many things along the way. We experimented a lot until we reached the result that can now be heard. We’ve been working with Joel since 2021, from the time of Room 101. I think he is a great artist and that his covers are like little gems. With him, the process begins as soon as we have the music and, above all, the final lyrics. The lyrics are very important, and he relies on them to visually represent the world we are describing through music and words. He sends us ideas, which evolve until the final version is achieved. The cover of Eternal Mistake is an example of his ability to synthesize concepts. It perfectly fits the theme of the album, both in its imagery and its colors.
The production handles a wide dynamic range — from the cinematic orchestral weight of some passages to the electronic textures and the more stripped-back moments. Was there a risk of overloading the record, and how did you manage that balance during the mixing stage?
The risk is always just around the corner. Always. Already in the writing phase, the songs are conceived with a very clear idea in mind: to surprise—through structure, dynamics, and the choice of sounds. If you think about the structure of “Nothing But,” you’ll notice it’s a symmetrical piece. The title track, Eternal Mistake, has no chorus, and even “We Are Going Home,” which is a ballad, doesn’t follow a conventional structure. By working this way, we create harmonic, melodic, and dynamic tensions, always seeking a balance between the different parts. It’s our way of feeling music—for us, prog is freedom. Starting from these principles, mixing becomes an extremely delicate phase, and with Fabio, we worked on removing rather than adding, emphasizing certain parts and even cutting others. The album feels quite balanced to me, and in any case, this is our way of making music.
Karmamoi have performed at prog festivals around the world. What does the live dimension bring to a band whose records are so layered and precisely constructed? Is the stage a place where you feel liberated, or does it come with its own set of creative tensions?
The stage is the place where we feel completely free. Like all artists, we have very precise instrumental parts, but there is also plenty of room for improvisation and interplay. The live dimension actually adds another layer: the visual one. During live performances, every song we play is accompanied by a video projected on the screen, which tells the story of the song itself while also moving within a broader narrative that is the concert as a whole. Our music is cinematic; we are, not surprisingly, great admirers of Ennio Morricone, and the union of sound and images is very important to us. We want our fans, during the concert, to be completely immersed in our artistic world.
Do you have live dates planned in support of “Eternal Mistake,” and is there any thought about how to translate the narrative arc of the concept into a live performance — or will it be approached more as a setlist of strong individual pieces?
For the moment, we will be playing on July 17, 2026 at Prog for Peart (UK) and on November 14, 2026 at Bergkeller (Germany). More concerts will be announced soon.The show will be a concept performance centered on the new album, but organically connected to songs from our previous albums, which will be integrated into the setlist. Thinking of a setlist made up of standalone, high-impact tracks would betray the concept expressed in the previous answer: our goal is to tell stories and to envelop listeners in our musical and visual world.
The contemporary Progressive Rock scene is vast and increasingly international — you’ve collaborated with artists connected to Steven Wilson‘s orbit, which is itself a significant reference point for modern Prog. Where do you see Karmamoi in relation to that broader landscape, and what do you think is still missing from it?
Steven Wilson is a conceptual reference point for us. We really appreciate his ability to constantly surprise his fans with
albums that are always different, yet of the highest quality. I would place Karmamoi among the bands that strive to innovate and reinvent themselves—bands that have learned the lessons of the great prog masters of the 1970s, absorbed them, but aim to remain contemporary without imitating anyone. Reproducing something already heard would be a lack of respect toward the bands that made prog history, and it would be discouraging for us, because it would mean we had run out of ideas. We prefer to make mistakes but follow our own path. I believe what is most lacking is the opportunity for bands to perform live consistently. I hope that the number of venues where this can happen will increase for everyone. Music and art are fundamental to society and its evolution. We should nourish ourselves with beauty and keep out of our souls all the ugliness that, unfortunately, surrounds us.
“Eternal Mistake” is a record that asks uncomfortable questions and refuses easy answers — about love, consciousness, identity, and what it means to make something that can outlast you. After eighteen years and seven albums, Karmamoi continue to move forward on their own terms.
Thank you very much for the wonderful interview. Ciao Everyone, Daniele
Purchase “Eternal Mistake” on Bandcamp:
Read our Review of “Eternal Mistake” here: [Review] Karmamoi – Eternal Mistake