Article: Mardy Leith- The Relentless Voice of Modern Metal

Nov 6
6 min read

“We take heavy, emotional subjects and turn them into something that gives perspective and release.”

Mardy Leith doesn’t just make metal — he makes catharsis. Every note, every growl, every harmony is a way of turning pain into power.

- Musician: Mardy Leith -

There’s a certain electricity when Mardy Leith talks about music — not the fame, not the algorithm, but the craft. You can hear it in the way his sentences loop through stories of small-town gigs, long nights in the studio, and the patient climb of a man who’s spent decades carving out his space in Australia’s heavy scene.

From Newcastle’s tight-knit underground to the global stages of projects like Russian Novel, Dragon Corpse, and Petrified Giant, Leith has built a career that’s as technical as it is heartfelt — a blend of melody, grit, and storytelling that’s redefining what it means to be a modern metal vocalist.

Finding His Voice

“I actually started out as a guitarist,” Mardy laughs. “Vocals weren’t even on the radar — I got bullied over my voice when I was younger.”

It’s a surprising confession from someone known for his vocal range and control. Growing up in Newcastle, he cut his teeth on a mix of emo, post-hardcore, and the rising tides of progressive metal. “Bands like My Chemical Romance and The Used were my emotional entry point,” he explains. “But as I got deeper into Dream Theater, Protest the Hero, Nevermore — I realised the technical side of things really hooked me.”

Like many kids of that era, a video game played a hand in his awakening. “Guitar Hero III was my gateway drug,” he grins. “The song list on that game? Absolute gold. It went from dad rock to metal, and suddenly I was obsessed. I learned Through the Fire and Flames by DragonForce over the school holidays. If you asked me to play it now — no way in hell — but that game made me fall in love with complexity.”

A Decade of Work Before the Spotlight

Before launching into original music, Mardy spent ten years grinding through Australia’s pubs and clubs in cover bands — performing three nights a week while holding down a full-time job in IT.

“It paid off my house,” he says matter-of-factly. “But once that was done, I thought, okay, now it’s time to make my own music again.”

That led to his first major project, Russian Novel, a progressive metal outfit that’s now a cornerstone of Newcastle’s alternative scene. The name itself tells you something about their mindset. “Russian literature after the wars was brutally dark,” Mardy explains. “Writers were using pain as perspective — you read something truly bleak, and suddenly your life doesn’t feel so bad. That’s what Russian Novel represents. We take heavy, emotional subjects, and turn them into something that gives perspective and release.”

Songs like The Depths and Ashes weave anxiety, guilt, and reflection into intricate soundscapes. “Each track centres on an emotion,” he says. “Anxiety, anger, retrospection, rejection — whatever it is, we build the song around that feeling.”

A Global Mind in an Australian Scene

Leith speaks candidly about the challenges of making heavy music in Australia. “Tall poppy syndrome is real here,” he says. “Bands often have to make it overseas before their own country gets behind them. Look at Parkway Drive — they had to blow up in Europe first. Suddenly Australia’s like, ‘we’ve always loved you!’”

Despite that, he’s proud of the hunger in the local scene. “The lack of venues and opportunities actually fuels it. People here want to play, they want to listen*. When there’s a metal gig, they show up.”

The Worlds of Dragon Corpse and Petrified Giant

If Russian Novel represents Leith’s emotional and technical side, then Dragon Corpse is his cinematic alter ego — a fusion of deathcore and power metal wrapped in high fantasy lore.

“Dragon Corpse is ridiculously fun,” he admits. “It’s cheesy, it’s big, it’s over the top. We built this entire fantasy world around the songs — there’s a timeline, a story arc, fans even send me playlists in what they think is the chronological order. Some of them get it spot on.”

In contrast, Petrified Giant — his collaboration with Dave McElfatrick (Cyanide and Happiness) and Lyle Rath (Mash and OneyPlays) — is grounded and melodic. “People see their comedy backgrounds and assume the band’s a joke,” Mardy says, “but it’s serious, heartfelt stuff. The songs deal with loss, politics, emotion. It’s a mix of our worlds coming together.”

Tracks like Death and Taxes balance aggression with melody — a gateway for new listeners into metal. “I think it just happened naturally,” he says. “We weren’t trying to make it ‘accessible,’ it’s just who we are. I always joke that I’m the scene uncle — I want to help people find their voice, especially the younger ones.”

That mentorship extends beyond the stage. As a vocal coach, Mardy has taught hundreds of students, often guiding them through technique and performance, but also the mindset it takes to last in music. “When I was coming up, no one wanted to help. Everything was competition. Now, I share contacts, advice, whatever. You lose nothing by helping someone else.”

Keeping It Grounded

With three bands, a teaching business, and countless collaborations, how does he avoid burnout? “Routine,” he says without hesitation. “If my day doesn’t have structure, I spiral.”

His studio sits out the back of his house, a dedicated creative zone. “When I’m in there, it’s music mode. When I walk out, I leave it behind. That separation is everything.”

He’s upfront about his perfectionist streak. “I overthink every decision — I need to know how it’ll affect me in ten years,” he laughs. “It’s exhausting, but it’s how I stay grounded.”

That sense of order also extends to how he runs his bands. “I make sure everyone feels heard. We vote on big decisions, and if someone’s not comfortable, we don’t push it. I’ve been in situations where people stay quiet, and it kills the vibe. Communication keeps the art alive.”

A Voice Built to Last

For all his talk of structure, it’s clear Leith’s creativity thrives on emotion. Whether it’s the cathartic power of Russian Novel’s Ashes or the theatrical storytelling of Dragon Corpse, his voice is a bridge between worlds — melodic one moment, monstrous the next.

He laughs at the idea of “Mardy-isms” — recurring phrases and melodic tricks that pop up across projects. “I love harmonies. I’ll record about thirty of them, and then the producer cuts twenty-five. It hurts, but I get it,” he grins. “Still, I think people can hear me across the bands. Even if the styles change, there’s always something emotional at the core.”

That’s what makes Leith so compelling: beneath the growls, screams, and sweeping riffs, there’s a mind that’s constantly reflecting — on growth, on balance, and on what it means to make art in an unpredictable world.

Building Something Bigger

As the conversation drifts toward the future, he mentions that all three projects have new material in the works. “We’re not getting any younger,” he says with a wry smile. “So, we’re taking things seriously — planning releases, tightening the sound, pushing harder. It’s time to see how far we can take it.”

For Leith, success isn’t measured in streams or likes — it’s in the connection. “When people actually show up to the gigs, that’s what matters. I’d rather have a quiet fanbase who comes to every show than thousands of online followers who don’t leave their couch.”

It’s a philosophy that sums him up perfectly: no gimmicks, no shortcuts, just heart and hard work in equal doses.

Between the Notes

Listening to Mardy Leith talk, you get the sense of an artist who’s earned every step of his journey. He’s part technician, part philosopher, and part mentor — someone who reminds us that music, at its best, is about connection, curiosity, and courage.

His message to musicians trying to find their footing?

“Keep showing up. Be the person who stays hungry, stays humble, and helps others. The rest will follow.”

By Uncle Tatt — host of “Between the Notes,”

Where creativity meets honesty, and the conversation goes deeper than the sound.