Kill Me Kate

Kill Me Kate began the way most great bands do — by accident and obsession. Ralph Puma and Tom Moretti had been playing together in Remember Venice, a high school band that eventually fell apart when its members went off to college. As RV slowly became a ship of Theseus, Tom decided to introduce Ralph to the drummer from his metal band Cimmerii — Danny Figueroa. Tom invited Danny to one of Ralph’s infamous teenage parties, and something clicked immediately. They bonded over a shared love of film, music, and that rare sense of “oh — you get it.” After a brief stint under the name Palantine, Danny posted a Craigslist ad for a lead guitarist. Marcus Lindberg — a technical, melodic player from Sweden — answered. When the day came to meet, Ralph was nowhere to be found. The band eventually discovered him passed out at home from the night before. Marcus, instead of being annoyed, laughed, rubbed Ralph’s head to wake him, and introduced himself. That chaotic first encounter set the tone. Their first rehearsal together blew everyone away. Marcus’s precision and flair sealed the lineup. The band recorded their self-titled debut at Lightning Boy Audio in Buffalo, NY with the brilliant Mike Congilolsi — frontman of Cimmerii. They spent a wild weekend experimenting with sounds, ideas, and late nights before Ralph returned solo on a Megabus to finish vocals. It was during that session that he and Mike created what would become the album’s opening track. Then life happened — deaths in the family, a mugging, the wrong kind of nights, and the kind of miscommunication that tears people apart. Kill Me Kate disbanded. Everyone stayed friends, mostly, but the wound ran deep between Danny and Ralph. The pressure to make something meaningful — to be something — had cracked them open. Years later, Danny and Ralph reconnected and worked through it all. Ralph turned to longtime collaborator and producer Anthony Bilancia of Small Room Studio to see if anything could be salvaged from the old recordings. Anthony didn’t just revive the sessions — he transformed them, producing and mixing remotely while the band reassembled from across state lines and countries. Together, they recorded a new opening track, one final act of creative defiance. The future of Kill Me Kate is uncertain — but the band has risen again, louder, wiser, and unafraid.