By Kreig Marks, September 2026

 

Kreig: Scott, Anthrax have survived lineup changes, trends, record-label chaos, and several generations discovering metal through entirely different doorways. At this point, what still makes you feel like a kid walking into rehearsal with a riff?

 

Scott: The minute somebody plays something that makes everyone in the room stop and look up, that’s it. You can be doing this for four decades, but that feeling doesn’t get old. It’s still four guys, or five guys, going, “Wait, what was that? Play that again.” That’s the fuel. If you lose that, then you’re just punching a clock, and Anthrax was never built to punch a clock.

 

Kreig: There’s a long gap between For All Kings and the new album. Did the time make the new record harder to create, or did it give you the space to be more ruthless about what deserved the Anthrax name?

 

Scott: Both. We weren’t going to make a record just so somebody could say, “Hey, they put out a record.” We wanted it to matter to us first. Time gives you perspective, but it also gives you no excuses. If you’re taking that long, it better be because you’ve got something worth waiting for. We pushed ourselves on the songs, the arrangements, the performances, everything.

 

Kreig: You’ve described “The Edge of Perfection” in enormous terms, possibly the greatest Anthrax song ever. That is a bold statement from a guy who helped write “Caught in a Mosh,” “Madhouse,” and “I Am the Law.” What happened in that song that made you put it in that company?

 

Scott: When you’ve lived with a song long enough, you know whether it has the thing. “The Edge of Perfection” has the riff, the movement, the heaviness, the hook, everything I want from Anthrax in one song. I know how ridiculous it sounds to say something is the best thing we’ve done, but I’m allowed to be excited. I’ve been in this band a long time, and that song makes me feel like we hit a new level.

 

Kreig: Anthrax have always had a particular kind of intelligence. You can go from social commentary to comic books, from real anxiety to full-on moshing-with-a-smile energy. Does Cursum Perficio lean into that whole personality, or does it reveal a side of Anthrax people have not heard yet?

 

Scott: The best Anthrax records have range without losing the identity. We don’t need to sit there and announce, “Now we’re doing the serious song,” or, “Now here’s the funny one.” It all comes from the same place: what we’re feeling, what we’re seeing, what gets under our skin, what gets us fired up. This album is Anthrax, but it’s Anthrax now, not a museum piece trying to recreate 1987.

 

Kreig: The title Cursum Perficio has a dramatic, almost final-sounding translation: “my journey ends here.” For a band that refuses to act old, is that title a confrontation with mortality, a mission statement, or just the coolest thing you found that looked great on an album cover?

 

Scott: It can be all of those things. I like titles that make you ask questions. We’ve had a long journey, and every record is a marker along the way, but “ends here” doesn’t have to mean, “This is the end.” It can mean this chapter is complete and now we move forward. Also, yeah, if it looks cool on a shirt, I’m not going to complain.

 

Kreig: You’re known as one of metal’s great rhythm-guitar architects. When you and Charlie Benante are building a song, is it more like two musicians writing, or two lifelong friends trying to make each other laugh, headbang, and say, “No way, that’s too much”?

 

Scott: It’s always been a little of both. Charlie will bring in something that sounds like he was attacked by a drum machine and a swarm of bees, and then I have to figure out where my guitar lives in it. But we know each other’s instincts. Sometimes the right answer is to make it more complicated. Sometimes the right answer is one dumb, giant riff that makes the room shake.

 

Kreig: Joey Belladonna’s voice is such an essential part of the Anthrax sound: melodic, powerful, and unmistakably his. On this new record, did you write with his specific strengths in mind, or do you throw him into the fire and wait to see what survives?

 

Scott: You always think about the singer, because it’s not just about getting a riff across the finish line. Joey has a very specific voice, and when he locks into something, it becomes Anthrax immediately. But you also want to challenge people. You want a vocalist to feel like they’re climbing a mountain sometimes, not because you’re being cruel, but because the view is better when they get there.

 

Kreig: You’ve been vocal about not living in nostalgia, but Anthrax fans have a deep emotional attachment to every era. How do you honor the kid who bought Among the Living while still making music for the person that kid became?

 

Scott: You can’t chase nostalgia. The minute you try to write “the new old record,” people smell it. The only honest thing is to write the best record you can make today. If somebody hears a little of Among the Living, a little Persistence of Time, a little For All Kings, cool. But it has to sound alive, not like we found an old cassette in a drawer.

 

Kreig: You’ve carried the “Big Four” label for years, but Anthrax have always had their own flavor: New York grit, punk energy, hardcore attitude, comic-book imagination, and a sense of humor that most metal bands would kill for. Is that outsider DNA still your secret weapon?

 

Scott: I think so. We never fit perfectly in one box, and that’s why we lasted. We love metal, but we also grew up on punk, hardcore, hip-hop, comics, movies, all of it. Anthrax has always been a band where all those things can collide. We take the music seriously, absolutely. But taking ourselves too seriously? That sounds exhausting.

 

Kreig: When fans finally hear this album, what do you hope happens first: a spontaneous mosh pit, an argument over the best track, somebody learning the riffs badly in their bedroom, or a listener realizing the band still has something new to say?

 

Scott: All of it. A great record should make people react. I want the longtime fans to feel rewarded for hanging in there, but I also want somebody who’s 16 years old to hear it and go, “What the hell is this?” in the best possible way. And yes, I fully support badly played bedroom riffs, as long as they’re played loud.

 

Kreig: You’ve spent years turning your love of comics and pop culture into part of the Anthrax universe. If Cursum Perficio were a comic-book issue, what would the cover look like, and who would be the villain?

 

Scott: It would have to look huge: apocalyptic skyline, impossible colors, the band standing there like we’re about to ruin somebody’s day. As for the villain, it’s probably perfection itself, the idea that everything has to be polished, approved, safe, and market-tested. Anthrax works better with some dirt under its fingernails.

 

Kreig: Final question, Scott: after all these years, what would you say to the person who has waited a decade for another Anthrax album and wonders whether the band can still surprise them?

 

Scott: I’d say, turn it up before you decide. We know what Anthrax means to people, and we don’t take that lightly. But we also didn’t make this record to preserve a legacy in amber. We made it because we still have something to prove, to ourselves most of all. If people hear that hunger in the songs, then we did our job.