Born Sylvester Virelli. Don't fucking call him that. All bite, all rage, zero apologies. He'll burn your world down and write a song about it.
Scorch doesn't do interviews. Doesn't do pleasantries. Doesn't do "let's talk about it." He's the frontman and lead guitarist of The Snake Skins, and every show is a war zone he walks into willingly because the stage is the only place the noise in his head makes sense.
Two years in prison. A mother who treated him worse than a stray dog. An ex-best friend who sold him out. A son he's not allowed to hold. He carries all of it, every second, and the only way it comes out is through the music or through his fists.
He's clean now. Two years sober. But clean doesn't mean fixed, and fixed was never on the table anyway.
