Mixing confession, irony, and critique, the Capim Cósmico project—conceived by musician and composer Mateus Cursino—presents the single “Cirrose Hepática” on December 12th. The track lays bare human vulnerability and exposes the thin line between habit, addiction, and self-sabotage. With a strong post-grunge influence and choruses bathed in psychedelia, the song transforms everyday excesses into a sensory and uncomfortably familiar narrative. Starting from a chorus born from a medicine leaflet, Cursino constructs an open outpouring about practices we romanticize until they cease to be a choice. Beyond alcohol, “Cirrose Hepática” provokes a deeper look at limits, pleasures, and the exact moment when something stops liberating—and begins to punish.
“Liver Cirrhosis” talks about romanticized addictions and habits that become dependencies. At what point did you realize you wanted to transform such a delicate topic into art—and not just criticism or a rant?
The decision came when I realized that this issue exists in everyday life with a frightening naturalness. Even more so because I live in a small town, with just over 20,000 inhabitants, without many cultural attractions, and where one of the largest local factories is a cachaça distillery. So, I wanted to talk about it indirectly, which is why the lyrics are quite experimental, influenced by the song “O Pulso” by Titãs.
The song blends confession, irony, and criticism. How do you balance vulnerability with sarcasm in your writing, without softening the pain or falling into a propagandistic tone?
This balance arises from looking at chaos with a certain detachment. I’ve always drunk alcohol and never become addicted to the point where it harmed my life. Despite this, I’ve always lived very close to this chaos with friends completely immersed in addiction. Sarcasm and poetic license help me deal with things that often bother me in social settings.
The name Capim Cósmico carries images of spirituality and everyday life. How does this duality — “animalistic and psychedelic,” as you describe it — specifically connect with the universe of Liver Cirrhosis?
“Cirrose Hepática” has an extremely human, visceral theme — but the writing of the lyrics has something almost psychedelic about it, which is part of Capim Cósmico’s identity. This song exists at this intersection: it’s a story common to many people, but told with colors and sensations that open up space for a less direct, almost psychedelic perspective.
You mentioned thinking about friends who are dependent on alcohol daily. How is it for you to transform such intimate and personal observations into a musical narrative? Are there any ethical or emotional boundaries you respect when writing?
Music is born from real experiences, but never in a direct or identifiable way. I always transform situations I observe in everyday life into original songs. The idea is not to tell someone’s story, but to translate a collective feeling that I have somehow captured. Art helps to elaborate on this kind of sensation.
The composition originated from a refrain taken from a medicine leaflet. What fascinates you about this encounter between the banal, the technical, and the poetic? Was it intentional or did it arise as a creative accident?
It came about by accident, but I was ecstatic at the time because the lyrics started to emerge naturally. Of course, I had references that helped me find my way in writing. However, it was exactly what the music that was already being made demanded. And it was done in the most natural way possible, without thinking about techniques or anything more poetic. So, in that sense, I think it was something almost banal rather than anything else thought out or planned; it happened spontaneously.
The track features a heavy, post-grunge sound with a psychedelic chorus. What sensations did you want the audience to experience while listening to this alternation between tension and expansion?
The weight of the guitar riff pulls you into a sense of unease, I believe, and the chorus opens up space for a conclusion, using the same initial riff but with psychedelic effects. The idea is for the listener to feel this oscillation: the tension of someone trapped in a destructive habit and the realization of a problem that can somehow be liberating.
The song talks about “identifying the point where something stops being pleasurable and becomes punishment.” For you, what is the biggest challenge in recognizing these limits in real life?
We usually realize the limit too late. By the time we do, it’s already become an addiction. And there’s also the factor of habit—when a habit becomes routine and we stop questioning it. So much so that, among other factors, alcohol is a socially acceptable drug that you can find in any corner bar.
You said you feel that many people will identify with the theme. What kind of conversation do you hope “Liver Cirrhosis” will provoke—both artistically, socially, and emotionally?
Thinking more artistically, I hope it provokes that mix of strangeness and identification that I like to create, just like it did with the single “Que Pó Não Vicia” (What Powder Doesn’t Addicte). If it triggers someone to rethink habits or recognize that they are not alone, it was already worth it. That has been happening, thankfully. It’s really cool that all the releases have an impact and resonate with people, even though the Capim Cósmico project is new and everything in independent music is always very nebulous, the results are surprising me.
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