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Paul Masvidal knows why his range of influences is so diverse. “I’ve always felt a bit like a witness here on Earth, quietly observing,” he tells Guitar World. “The people that hooked me were those who blended strong melodic continuity with experimental, envelope-pushing ideas. They sounded free and I wanted to understand how to tap into that.”
In Chuck Schuldiner’s Death and his own band Cynic, Masvidal has demonstrated the results. Death’s Human (1991) and Cynic’s Focus (1993) became pillars of the progressive-meets-extreme metal genre. “The more emotional weight and mystery something carried, the more it connected,” he says.
“It was about staying true to the process and following the music wherever it wanted to go. If something felt too familiar or derivative, we’d instinctively move in another direction. We weren’t trying to prove anything – we were letting the flow guide us.”
He shifted gears in the ‘90s, getting into film and TV scores, with credits including That ’70s Show, 3rd Rock From the Sun, The Price is Right, Queer as Folk and more. He also developed the Vidatak system, which aids people with voice disabilities.
Now he’s working on new Cynic music. “I still feel inspired to broaden my palette,” he says. “It keeps the music fresh and helps breathe life into the writing process in unexpected ways.”
What led to the formation of Cynic?
“A friendship and a deep need to create. It was also a survival mechanism. I met Sean Reinert in elementary school, and we jammed the day we met. The connection was immediate and intuitive.
“We both had this obsession for music and wanted to channel it into something meaningful. At the time we didn’t know what we were chasing; we just knew we were reaching for something beyond the surface.”
Before working with Death, you and Chuck were pen pals, right?
“We started as pen pals, and over time, that turned into long phone conversations. We weren’t necessarily influenced by each other’s playing, but we connected as humans. We’d geek out over underground bands in the tape-trading scene and swap excitement over demos and guitar riffs.
“He was up in Orlando, which felt like a different world from Miami. Orlando had a slower, more insulated Southern feel. Miami was a cultural soup, full of Latin rhythms, jazz legends, and experimental artists.”
Do you feel the Miami scene cultivated a shared mindset?
“We had venues like the Thrash Can, where Cynic played with Death and other extreme underground bands. I saw artists like Marilyn Manson come up there. At Washington Square I caught shows by Jeff Buckley, My Bloody Valentine and the Smashing Pumpkins.
“The Cameo Theater, which eventually became Prince’s club, hosted metal shows. Cynic got in with a promoter there, and we were offered opening slots for international acts, which helped us grow our local following. Churchill’s Pub was another spot – a dive that hosted legendary punk bands alongside locals.”
DEATH – “Lack Of Comprehension” (Remixed) – YouTube
“It was a unique time in Miami. Thrash and death metal bands were often on the same bills as punk and hardcore acts. Sometimes there was tension, with longhairs next to skinheads and straight-edge crews, but the energy was undeniable. It felt like anything could happen. It still feels that way.
“There was a musical lineage; we were those weird art school kids going to galleries and museums, then showing up at death metal rehearsals. That contrast gave us a unique edge. Chuck respected that.”
Regular school was trying to put everyone into boxes. I was a wiggly kid who wanted to express myself my own way
How did you end up touring with Death?
“During the Leprosy tour one of his guitarists dropped out, and he called to see if I could fill in for some shows in Mexico. I was still in high school, but I learned the set in a few days and jumped on. He offered me a spot in the band then, but I went back to Cynic.
“He brought me in again during Spiritual Healing, and finally during Human when he needed a full band. By that point, we had years of trust between us. I brought in Sean on drums, and that took things to a whole new place.”
How did your parents handle you dropping out of high school to tour Mexico with a band called Death?
“I was living with my mom at the time. She was actually stoked. She didn’t expect her son, deep into intense and fringy music, to suddenly have a shot at touring and maybe making a living from it.
“I never really connected with the format of regular school. It felt clinical, like it was trying to put everyone into boxes – and I was a wiggly kid who wanted to be weird and express myself in my own way.
“My mom understood that. She saw that I was an outsider, into dream work and astral projection, doing one of those work-credit programs. I think she was relieved to see that I had the energy to throw myself into something so completely.
“She saw me locked in my room for years practicing, playing little gigs with my bandmates around town, doing self-booked runs; now it was turning into something real with an international band and a growing presence.
“She also liked Chuck and saw him as kind of a big brother bringing me into the business. We were just a bunch of kids chasing something bigger than us. The music had a hold on us. To make a livelihood from it is a beautiful thing; it really was living the dream.”
What was Chuck’s mindset then?
“He was rebuilding – he wanted to push Death into more progressive territory, and wanted musicians who could bring a wider vocabulary to the music. He’d been through a lot personally, but always found a way to land back on his feet. His resilience showed in the creative risks he was willing to take.”
We weren’t trying to out-metal anyone. We were immersed in an art-forward mindset. Chuck saw we could stretch the language
What do you recall about making Death’s Human?
“We recorded at Morrisound in Tampa with Scott Burns, and the energy was focused and uplifting. Chuck gave us a lot of trust and room to experiment. His material was more minimal than what we were doing in Cynic, so we added harmonic layers, rhythmic complexity and dynamic movement without losing its intensity.
“I remember Sean had a whole week to record drums and knocked them out in a day or two, which gave us extra time. That led to writing Cosmic Sea in the studio. Steve Di Giordo and Sean had unique chemistry – they were really committed to playing off each other and operating as an independent rhythm section.
Cynic – How Could I – Live at Wacken Open Air 2008 – YouTube
“It was new territory, especially for Chuck’s music and for death metal in general. It was powerful to witness how they fed off each other, creating this foundation that gave the music its pulse and weight.”
Did Chuck give you total freedom?
“Yes, full freedom. I brought my own gear, dialed in my tone and recorded without any direction from him. He never gave notes on solos or tones. He trusted my instincts. He wanted the best result and gave me the room to get there.
“When we were recording Human, I was deep in the world of fusion and jazz – Holdsworth, Pat Metheny, Scofield, Keith Jarrett, Chick Corea, Bill Evans, Scott Henderson – I was more drawn to clean, expressive tones than the gritty metal aesthetic Chuck gravitated toward.
“He came from more of an ’80s melodic metal place; he loved bands like Sortilege and he had that raw, primal energy. We were orbiting different planets musically, and I think that’s exactly why he brought Sean and me into Death.
“We weren’t trying to out-metal anyone. We were kids from Miami, immersed in jazz, experimental music and a kind of art-forward mindset. Chuck saw that we could stretch the language.”
Tone is more about touch and intention than the gear… it’s a conversation between your hands, your ear and the instrument
What are your biggest takeaways from working with Chuck?
“If anything, it taught me the power of simplicity. His riffs were memorable and almost minimalist. His approach to arrangements was direct and stripped down. He’d send demos with just an intro, verse, chorus and solo and he’d say, ‘That’s it – we just repeat from here.’
“We were more interested in writing songs that unfolded like stories, with a beginning, middle and end. If there were repetition, we’d shift something slightly to keep the structure evolving.
“Chuck had a very specific set of tools that worked for him. It was almost like a formula – but even he knew that the genre had to evolve or risk repeating itself into oblivion. That’s why we were there: to pull things forward.”
Why didn’t you continue to work with Death?
“We had a falling out. It wasn’t dramatic; it was more about misunderstandings unrelated to music, but it reached a point where moving on made sense. Even without that, I was ready to return to Cynic; that was where the deeper creative work was calling me.”
What’s your rig like now?
“I keep things simple. I use a Fractal FM9 and I love Meris pedals. I’ve been experimenting, but tone is more about touch and intention than the gear itself. It’s a conversation between your hands, your ear and the instrument.
“I’ve worked with Steinberger and Strandberg; now I’m developing a signature guitar with Kiesel. When you shape an instrument to your vision, something intimate happens. The tool becomes part of the process.”
You’ve also done significant work for patients with voice disabilities.
“The Vidatak communication device started at UCLA Medical Center. I was volunteering there and I was assigned to a patient who was intubated and couldn’t speak. I asked the staff if they had anything to help me communicate with her; they handed me a photocopied alphabet sheet.
“It opened my eyes to the fact that something could be improved. My boyfriend at the time was a nurse, and together we started building something better. We created a dry-erase board with common phrases and body diagrams so patients could point to their needs.”
You’re an advocate for LGBTQ+ visibility in the metal community.
“Being openly gay in metal was another kind of challenge. The scene often leaned into a hypermasculine, armored aesthetic that I never related to. By the time of the Human era I’d already come out to my family and close friends.
So much of Cynic’s work was informed by our own sexual identity, even in ways we weren’t fully aware of
“Sean and I were both coming into our identities, and during that early ’90s period, we came out to each other as well. It wasn’t something we talked about publicly, but privately we were beginning to live more openly.
“That changed in 2014 during the promotion cycle for Kindly Bent to Free Us, when a label rep asked if we’d share our story. We ended with a journalist from the Los Angeles Times and it became a cover story, which gave the piece a surprising amount of reach.
“When we started touring after that, we noticed a stronger LGBTQ+ presence at our shows. It felt like people were more confident showing up and being themselves. That shift was tangible. Being out in metal is about being transparent, honest and real.
“Our music has always reflected who we are – looking back, so much of Cynic’s work was informed by our own sexual identity, even in ways we weren’t fully aware of at the time.”
What’s next for you?
“I’m working on new music with Cynic, and we’re also developing a Focus documentary. A guitar tab book for Ascension Codes is coming this summer through Sheet Happens Publishing, and the Kiesel signature guitar is on the way this fall.”
- Follow developments on Masvidal’s Instagram.
