Interview with Guitarist and Founder of Vicious Circle Vinny DiBianca

October 26, 2026

Interview with Guitarist and Founder of Vicious Circle Vinny DiBianca

By Mick Michaels

Cosmick View: Hello, Vinny, and welcome to The Cosmick View! Thanks for taking some time out of your day to speak with us. It's greatly appreciated.

CV: When did you first get into the scene—not necessarily with Vicious Circle, but as an artist?
Vinny DiBianca: Vicious Circle is probably the most prominent thing I’ve done. I was in bands like Denial and Natas Evil in ’84, but we mostly played in garages. We never really played live clubs.

Vicious Circle was the big one. We started in 1988, wrote a five-song demo, and ended up playing a show at Whitaker’s in 1989. That was when the demo came out, so that’s really when things started for us.

CV: What do you remember most from that time?
VD: What I remember most is that we were new. We had a different sound, and it wasn’t really popular yet. We mixed a lot of genres together, and the musical landscape was still pretty open. There wasn’t a lot of established formula to follow.

We came out with a more aggressive sound. Like everyone else, I started with Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, and bands like that. But I always gravitated toward heavier, more complicated music. Thrash was popular at the time, and death metal was just beginning to emerge. The European bands were doing heavier things than most American bands, so I was always waiting in the import section for the next release—Kreator, Sodom, and all those great bands.

Everybody had their own interpretation back then because there wasn’t anything completely established. Every band had its own identity. When we first came out, nobody really sounded exactly alike. There were similarities, but we all had the freedom to make the music our own.

Some bands simply wanted to copy others, but that was never us. We took the best parts of all the styles we liked and blended them into what became the Vicious Circle sound.

Not all clubs allowed mosh pits and things like that. Shows would get really crazy, and it was a lot of fun. I fed off the crowd. There were so many metal fans back then—everybody loved metal in all its different forms.

People didn’t know enough to be snobs yet. The subgenres weren’t as clearly defined. Nobody was saying, “He doesn’t sing a melody,” or, “That isn’t brutal enough.” If that was what you did, then that was simply what you did. That wasn’t really a major influence on the scene yet.

CV: What they now call mixed bills. So you played with all kinds of bands back then?
VD: Yeah, exactly. There was always something about us that people responded to. We played with thrash bands, death-metal bands, mainstream bands, big-name acts, and hardcore bands. Somehow, we always fit in.

We played CBGB’s once, and the bill was nothing but reggae bands—swear to God. We were the only band like us. I thought, “They’re going to kill us. They don’t want us here, and they’re not going to like us.”

We played with bands like Faith and Marmalade—I think those were their names—and they were great people. We decided to give it a shot, and they loved us. They didn’t care that we were different.

CBGB’s had nothing but reggae bands that night, but as soon as Vicious Circle brought the heavy music, everybody moved to the front. Tables were getting knocked over. It was insane, and I loved it.

That’s how it was at a lot of different shows. At first, we were often the odd band out, but then more and more bands started coming out and doing heavier music. Eventually, we were playing all over the place, touring, recording, getting added to legs of other bands’ tours, and doing tours of our own.

Things changed, but you never forget where you came from. The local scene was the greatest. I loved it. There was nothing better than South Jersey metal.

CV: It’s was a special and unique time. What do you think separated the Philly/South Jersey scene from the Los Angeles Strip, New York, Baltimore, or other scenes?
VD: You know, I’m not sure how to explain it. When it comes to extreme music, South Jersey and North Jersey weren’t really that different. What made it different, at least to me, was that people would hear us and say, “You have to be from New Jersey. You sound like a Jersey metal band.”

I can’t exactly explain what that meant, but there was a recognizable regional quality. We played North Jersey a lot. Our first manager introduced us to a completely different part of the state, and that’s where we met bands like Ripping Corpse and Human Remains. We also played with Resinate and other bands like that. Those bands were somewhat different from us, but we were still similar in certain ways. The music was technical and extremely heavy. I don’t know exactly where everyone’s influences came from, but we all sounded alike to an extent that made it clear where we were from.

A lot of people have told me that we represented a New Jersey sound in extreme metal—brutal, intense, and technical. All I can say is that I really liked the technicality and intensity that everybody brought, whether they were grinders, heavy hitters, or something else.

I think we stood out because we were among the better songwriters—not just Vicious Circle, but the New Jersey scene as a whole. A lot of those bands knew how to write good songs. You had to keep the music interesting for the band members and the audience. Nobody wanted to fall asleep playing the same thing over and over.

New Jersey bands were willing to take risks. We didn’t care whether something fit the usual formula. Some bands wanted to follow everybody else, but a lot of people came up with original ideas and said, “I don’t know if this is going to fit, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

That was true whether you played glam, traditional heavy metal, thrash, death metal, hardcore, or some combination of everything. You put your own stamp on it—you added that Jersey flavor. People could hear it, feel it, and they wanted more.

CV: By 1988, Philadelphia had one version of thrash, while New Jersey had another. Jersey was considered more technical, whereas Philadelphia was more straightforward—almost a heavier version of Judas Priest. How did you see those two scenes coexist? Were they supportive of each other, or was there a major divide?
VD: I think it depended on the band. Back then, booking agents didn’t always put bands together; sometimes the bands themselves arranged the bills. Some bands wanted to take a chance and play with groups that were different, while others preferred to stick with bands that sounded more like them.

Philadelphia bands often had a more traditional thrash sound, while Jersey bands were more willing to experiment. I think it took Philadelphia bands a little while to embrace us, but eventually they did.

Let’s face it: Promoters wanted bands that would bring people to the show. Once you started becoming popular, you were worth taking a chance on, even if you were different from the norm.

I think the bands embraced one another more than the club owners or booking agents did. We really did coexist, and Vicious Circle had some of that Philadelphia sound in us. We always had a little bit of everything, so we meshed well with those bands.

Other bands may not have fit together as easily, but Vicious Circle was lucky. We worked well with the Philadelphia bands.

Delaware had a completely different sound. When we played there—at places like the Mystic Dungeon and other clubs—the scene was very different from both Philadelphia and New Jersey.

VD: A lot of those bands still embraced the heavy Metallica sound back then, while we were already getting into the blood, death, and brutal, grotesque stuff. It felt like they were a little behind us, but they still put their own stamp on it, and the results were really good. Their sound was very metallic when we played with bands from the Delaware area.

Pessimist was different, though. They were a great band. They started out with a dungeon-metal sound and gradually developed into what they are today. They were beginning to branch out while still keeping some of the original character of their scene. They were actually from Baltimore, but we all crossed paths at clubs in Seaford, Delaware, and other places.

We were lucky because we could usually mesh with any band we played with. As we became more technical and heavier, some hardcore audiences took a little longer to warm up to us. I’m thinking of some of the New York bands in particular. We played with Madball, and I love Madball and that whole style of music. I was excited as hell to play with them because I thought it was going to be a lot of fun. We played our first two songs, and it was like—crickets. I thought, “This is going to be bad. I don’t know how this is going to go.”

By the third song, though, we played “Recreation” from Cryptic Void. It had a straight-up mosh-oriented hardcore beat, and the place exploded. After that, we earned the respect of the crowd. A lot of people came up to us afterward.

CV: Did you choose that song because you read the crowd, or was it already part of the set?
VD: It was already in the set. It was just luck. We pulled out a Hail Mary and it worked.

That was one of the good things about Vicious Circle: We had different feels. We mixed a lot of styles together. I never wanted us to be just one thing.

Later on, we even incorporated some jazz influences. It wasn’t necessarily metal, but you can make jazz sound extremely metal. It can be dissonant and beautiful at the same time. I’ve been embracing that more in my newer writing. I can find places for fusion, jazz, and even flamenco guitar within the music now.

It was a little harder to do that back then because you didn’t want to stray too far from your established sound. I never felt restricted, though. One thing that changed our sound considerably was having several different singers. I wrote in much the same way, but each singer interpreted the songs differently, so every album, EP, and release took on its own character.

CV: By 1989 you were playing regularly, and by 1990 there was almost a counter-scene developing around your genre. You were playing in places that hadn’t existed for this kind of music just a few years earlier. By 1991 and ’92, the mainstream began to change as well. How did that affect you and the scenes you were already part of?
VD: We were already used to finding places to play because many clubs wouldn’t allow crazy mosh pits and things like that for insurance reasons. I understood it—it was something new—but we still had to find places.

We played VFW halls, garages, and even a bakery once, for the birthday of a kid who worked there. Unfortunately, the people who came were disrespectful. They put holes in the walls and got the kid fired. It was a terrible situation, but he had taken a chance on us because he wanted us to play for his birthday. He was a great kid, and I felt bad that he got in trouble.

We had to create our own shows when clubs wouldn’t book us. There was a place called Baron Steakhouse with a banquet room in the back, and we held shows there all the time.

Thankfully, Philadelphia still had venues like the Trocadero, the Electric Factory, and the TLA. We also had places like G. Wilkerson’s, the Bomb Shelter, and the Galaxy, along with smaller bars that would let us play. But there were plenty of times when the heavier bands weren’t welcome, so we had to improvise.

One story really shows how unprepared some places were for us. We played the Galaxy several times, but this occasion was the last time. I believe Johnny Z from Metalworks—the Keystone booking operation—had booked us there. We were the only band like us on the bill, along with a couple of other local groups. It was the first time the club had put up a gate separating the bar from the underage area. I told the guys, “This is going to be amazing.” But they only had one bouncer, and one guy wasn’t going to handle a crowd of angry, intense kids listening to crazy music. I told the owner, “You’re going to need more than one person here.” He said, “We’ll be fine.” By the third or fourth song, the place went completely crazy. The bouncer looked up at the owner and said, “Tell them to stop.” I told him, “I can’t do that.” So they shut off the sound. We lost the vocals, but the guitars, bass, and drums kept playing. We didn’t stop, and the crowd got even more upset because the club had shut us down. The place became chaotic. You couldn’t even see the bouncer anymore; he had disappeared into the crowd. I didn’t see this myself, but someone told me the owner came out and tried to get everyone’s attention. He ended up getting kicked in the head.

We were escorted out by K-9 units, and we walked out like the Hanson Brothers from Slap Shot: “That’s right! The Galaxy can’t handle Vicious Circle!” It was the last time we ever played there, but it remains one of my favorite memories.

Things like that happened. Some crowd members would come in, beat people up, and cause problems, which got us kicked out of a lot of places. You didn’t want to see anybody get hurt, but at the same time, you’d think, “That’s metal.”

Because of that, we had to create our own venues. We played in church basements, warehouses, and anywhere else that would let us perform. Someone would say, “I own this warehouse—can you play here?” There was an abandoned glass factory in Vineland where we held shows.

If a major club didn’t want you, you made your own venue, and people came in droves. Everybody loved metal. Eventually, promoters realized there was money to be made, and the larger clubs began allowing these bands to play again. That’s my take on what happened.

CV: Did the alternative and grunge movement affect what you were doing?
VD: I’d like to say it didn’t, but it did. A lot of people gravitated toward that sound because it was new, and it still had a certain aggression.

We never wanted to change who we were. I didn’t play for popularity; I played for myself. That’s what all of us did. If you didn’t like our music, you didn’t have to come to the show. I played because music feeds my soul, and I’ve always needed to go out and play.

But it affected us. We didn’t get many shows with bands from that scene, and it affected our sound and album sales. People started moving toward grunge, while our true metal fans stayed with us. The Seattle sound definitely hurt us to some extent.

One thing I noticed most was that guitar solos disappeared. Bands that used to have great solos were replaced by more mediocre music with no solos at all. Even in metal, there was very little guitar soloing during that period. Everybody wanted to sound like everybody else because they wanted to be popular. That never appealed to me. As much as I wanted Vicious Circle to become a household name, I would rather maintain my integrity and write the music I want to write. If people like it, great. If they don’t, that’s fine too.

The bigger clubs started booking those other bands, and we were told we didn’t fit. I’d think, “We fit with everybody else. Why don’t we fit with the grunge bands?” But that was just how things were. I didn’t hate those bands; the music was fine. It simply wasn’t what I wanted to do. Still, it definitely hurt us.

CV: Do you think audiences connected so strongly with the music of that time because it was still fresh, untapped territory? It wasn’t as oversaturated as it is today.
VD: Absolutely. Everyone was looking for something new.

What helped many bands were festivals. You could play a festival with bands from completely different styles—bands you sounded nothing like—and still reach a new audience. You might play before them, after them, or five bands before them, but you still had your own time onstage.

That was one of the few saving factors during that period. Metal festivals gave bands a chance to be heard. You might not get the main stage, but you could get a side-stage slot and introduce people to your music.

CV: There have always been copycat bands, especially in the late ’80s and early ’90s, when droves of artists and bands were being signed. But rock music as a whole still felt relatively new. That doesn’t seem to exist as much now.
VD: I understand what you mean by oversaturation. Everyone has absorbed the feeling of metal, and there’s been a lot of genre mixing. I don’t necessarily understand all of it, but I don’t hate it either. It’s interesting when bands push beyond the usual boundaries.

Rock and roll is always going to be experimental. The problem now is figuring out how far you can go when so many ideas have already been explored. How much more technical can you get before it sounds like a computer falling apart.

Music still needs groove. It still needs to be a song. If you want something with a million notes per measure, I can give you that—but it may only give you a headache.

Another problem is that when one band becomes successful, everybody wants to sound like that band. There’s nothing wrong with having influences, but you should still develop your own identity. There were so many bands that wanted to sound like Korn, and then so many wanted to sound like Pantera.

Try something different. I think too many people become fixated on one sound.

CV: Do you think that’s more of an industry issue or an audience issue?
VD: I think it’s mostly the industry. If the label knows that a certain band is making money, they’ll tell a young band, “If you want a chance, you have to sound like this. This is what’s selling. If you want to be on our label, you need to do this.” The audience then responds to what the record companies and their promotion put in front of them.

We always had trouble with record labels because they didn’t know how to market us. They’d say, “You’re not thrash metal, death metal, or hardcore. We don’t know what to do with you.”

But I wasn’t going to become something they wanted me to be. This is who we are. If I started writing differently just to fit a label, I’d be a poser—and I’ve never been one. I’ll remain true to myself for the rest of my life.

I don’t care if I die poor and nobody knows my name or the name Vicious Circle. At least I’ll have my integrity. I’m not going to walk around with a big “P” on my forehead.

CV: You’re committed to being true to yourself.
VD: Exactly—and the other members of the band feel the same way. I’m not crushing anyone else’s dream. We all wanted to think freely and push the envelope. Every time we released something, we tried to improve ourselves.

CV: Do you think that’s generational? Because it doesn’t necessarily seem to be the same attitude today, especially in the scene, even though you still could have many of the same bands involved.
VD: Yes, I think it is. We were lucky to come along when everything was still new and the slate was relatively clean. That was what made it exciting. Everybody loved metal.

People have moved on, and now there are more genre snobs. I don’t always understand what drives younger listeners or what they’re looking for.

I’m an ear player, so I grew up listening to Allan Holdsworth, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Exodus, Slayer, Possessed, and countless other bands. I absorbed all of those influences, but I wanted to make them my own.

Now it seems like many people want to sound a certain way because they’re trying to make money. We were never primarily motivated by money. We wanted to be noticed, but I didn’t want people to say, “You sound exactly like Destruction.” I’d be happy if someone said, “I hear a little Destruction in there,” because I love Destruction. But we took what we loved from those bands and made it our own.

I wanted people to hear Vicious Circle, not hear us and think, “They sound like my favorite band.” There used to be more openness to strangeness and individuality. I think people are more closed-minded now, and sometimes I wonder whether bands like us still belong.

CV: They say everything comes full circle.
VD: Sooner or later—Vicious Circle, right? I hope so.

CV: When you go to a venue, you’re more likely to discover someone you’ve never heard before. At home, on Spotify, you’re mostly listening to recommendations based on what you already like. Could part of the reason younger listeners are less open to diverse sounds be the decline in venues—and the reduced willingness to go out and see live music?
VD: I think that’s accurate. People don’t buy CDs anymore. I’ll hand someone a CD and say, “Look at the booklet. Look at the pictures.” I used to love getting an album, opening the sleeve, and studying the artwork while I listened. I felt like I was part of the whole experience.

Now people listen online. A lot of people don’t go to shows anymore. If they want to see a performance, they watch someone record their favorite band and view it at home on a big-screen TV, from the perfect seat.

I don’t know how many people still want that live experience—the feeling of being hit in a mosh pit or being part of the crowd.

For me, it was always about the live show. I remember stage-diving during Voivod’s set at the Empire. People were encouraging me to jump, but when I did, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. I belly-flopped onto the floor, but I didn’t care. That was what it was about.

I got up and kept moshing. I even lost a sneaker, so I had no shoes. People kept stepping on my feet, but I was still out there.

I don’t know if kids today have that same experience. Maybe they go to shows, or maybe they stay home and watch performances on a tablet. The generations are definitely different.

We didn’t have that technology. Vicious Circle didn’t even get online until around 2000. We had already been around for years, and people would say, “Oh, you’re a new band.” I’d say, “No, we’re not new—you’re just discovering us.”

CV: Do you think the current cycle will eventually exhaust itself? Will people become tired of it and return to older music?

VD: Absolutely. People eventually want to hear the music their parents or grandparents told them was great. A lot of the hair-metal bands are getting back together and selling out shows. Bands like the Sisters of Mercy and Sebastian Bach are still drawing audiences.

Everything comes back around. I think there will be a renewed interest in old-school death metal, thrash, hardcore, and bands that mixed genres together and created something unique.

I might be dead by the time it happens, but I believe it will. I love hearing that a band I used to enjoy is getting back together. It’s exciting.

Old-school thrash could become huge again. People just need to stop being afraid of being different. Younger people are willing to be different in many ways, but not always musically.

There are more cliques and more critics now. Everybody thinks they could do better than the band they’re watching. I say, “If you can do better, then do it. I want to hear your band. Let me hear you play guitar.”

CV: Could part of the problem be that the bands at the top are still the same bands people have always listened to? The Beatles are still loved, but music moved on from them. In metal—whether it’s mainstream, thrash, or death metal—we’re still listening to the same groups… Metallica records for example. Who are the new major bands...?

Do we have to wait until those older bands are gone, or will it take another version of those bands to reach the next level?
VD: That’s a tough question. I don’t know exactly how to answer it, and I might change my mind afterward.

I think resilience is important. If you can still do it, you should keep doing it until you can’t. As for the next generation, bands like The Black Dahlia Murder and Children of Bodom have become very popular while carrying that style forward. There’s nothing wrong with that—they’re great bands.

Eventually, though, there may be so many bands doing the same thing that people start reaching back for the old records. They’ll put on Cannibal Corpse and say, “I miss this.”

People eventually get tired of whatever is current. I think our bands will start coming back, whether they reunite or not. Someone will discover an old album and say, “This is incredible. How have I never heard this?”

Sometimes it only takes one influential person to say, “I found this in my dad’s bedroom and gave it a listen. This band is great.” That’s all it takes.

CV: Thanks so much Vinny for talking with us... we really appreciate it!
VD: Awesome! Thank you so much for this—it was a lot of fun.

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My name is Mick Michaels...I'm an artist, music fan, songwriter, producer, author, show host, big dreamer & guitarist for the traditional Heavy Metal band Corners of Sanctuary. Writing has always been a creative outlet for me; what I couldn't say in speech, I was able to do with the written word. Writing has given me a voice & a way for me to create on a multitude of platforms including music and song, articles, independent screenplays, books & now, artist interviews. The Cosmick View is an opportunity to raise the bar & showcase artists in a positive and inspirational light. For me, it's another out-of-this-world adventure.