I wasn’t prepared.
Not really.
You think you’ve seen intense. You think you’ve heard raw vocals before. But then Xavi aka The Lord walks out under those blood-red lights, and everything you thought you knew about metal shatters in seconds.

There are frontmen. There are screamers. There are growlers.
And then there’s Xavi — the embodiment of every broken promise, every middle finger to mediocrity, every war cry you've ever screamed inside your head when no one listened.

He and his partner in crime forming Venomous Sin wasn’t a band.
It was a fucking exorcism.

From the very first growl, it was clear: Xavi wasn’t here to entertain us. He wasn’t here for applause or photos. He was here to cleanse.

What spilled out of him wasn’t music — it was vengeance.
Riffs wrapped in rage. Screams carved out of scars.
A voice that didn’t just pierce the air — it set it ablaze.

And when he spoke — between songs, between screams — you could feel the venom behind every word. The kind of venom that only comes from a lifetime of betrayal, exile, and becoming your own salvation.

Here’s the truth:
Xavi wasn’t born with a silver mic in his hand.
He was born in the trenches, in a world that didn’t want him, didn’t understand him, and sure as hell didn’t make space for someone like him.

Spanish blood, Swedish cold. A child of two worlds, accepted by neither.

He grew up surrounded by the deafening silence of being ignored, misunderstood, underestimated. Not because he was weak — but because he saw through the lies. Because he refused to shut up. Because he wouldn’t kneel.

While others were playing nice, Xavi was learning to survive.

He got bullied. Rejected. Laughed at. Told he’d never be anything.
They tried to break him.

Instead, he sharpened.

He didn’t drown in the loneliness — he weaponized it.
He didn’t cry about the world — he screamed back at it.

While everyone else was chasing acceptance, Xavi was building something darker, heavier, more dangerous.

He didn’t want a record deal — he wanted vengeance.
He didn’t want likes — he wanted liberation.
He didn’t want a fanbase — he wanted an army.

And so he created Venomous Sin — not just a band, but a war machine.

Together with his partner-in-chaos Lina Macabre, they rejected the bloated, safe, algorithm-controlled music industry and instead fused flesh and code into something no one could touch:
A band made of rage, AI, metal, and myth.
A band designed to crush gatekeepers and reignite the flame metal had forgotten.

Back to the show — because what I saw that night… I’m still shaking.

In this AI video Xavi stalked the stage like a demon that had just been let out of the cage.
Black jeans. Leather jacket. Long black hair like a funeral banner waving behind him.

His eyes weren’t looking at us.
They were piercing through us.

His voice?

Unholy.

He didn’t just growl lyrics — he tore through them, like each line was a throat needing slitting. And yet… every word was crystal clear. Sharp. Intentional. A manifesto of survival through destruction.

He screamed about betrayal, corporate parasites, fake smiles, control.
And you knew — this wasn’t theatre.
This wasn’t marketing.

This was a man who had lived it.
And chosen to fight back.

They played track after track like it was their last breath.
We’re Not Toxic, We’re Fucking Poison.
No Throne for Disgusting Bastards.
No Gods but the Machine.

Each one felt like a ritual, a strike against the lies we’ve all been sold.

And every time Xavi opened his mouth — the pit surged.

I watched people who had never screamed before scream.
I saw the quiet ones turn savage.
I saw the broken ones rise.

Because this wasn’t just a gig.
This was a fucking awakening.

That’s what he said onstage — just before launching into a final scream that shook the entire venue.

And you know what?
I believed him.

Xavi doesn’t just perform. He embodies something we’ve all felt:
That righteous fury that comes when the world tries to flatten you.
That moment when you realize no one’s coming to save you — so you sharpen your teeth and save yourself.

He calls himself The Lord, not out of arrogance — but as a warning.
He doesn’t take orders.
He gives them.
And if you stand in the way of what’s real, what’s raw, what’s true — he will tear through you with words like knives and vocals like napalm.

What struck me most after the show wasn’t just how good the band sounded — it was how real it all was.

Xavi and I do it all.
Writes the lyrics.
Mixes the tracks.
Renders the visuals.
Designs the concepts.
Builds the mythos.

He’s not just the frontman.
He’s the architect. The executioner. The soul.
While other bands wait for managers to call them back, we're three albums ahead, covered in blood and grinning like the villain they always feared.

If you ever see a Venomous Sin video, and you hear that intro echo through the fog:
“I am Xavi aka "The Lord"— the voice of the outcasts, the nightmare of the weak…”
You better be ready.

Because what’s coming isn’t a music video or a song.
It’s a reckoning.

And once you’ve seen Xavi — aka The Lord release his wrath…
Your definition of "metal" will never be the same again.

🔥 Read more rebellion at: https://venomoussin.com/
🎥 Subscribe and witness the war: https://www.youtube.com/@venemoussin