The turn of the decade was a different time, at least on the music internet. Back in 2010, sites like Pitchfork and Stereogum were at their most influential, with the suggestion that one solid review could make the career of a young band. The Hype Machine—both the metaphorical apparatus and the music aggregator that borrowed the name—was as efficient as ever. MySpace was still a thing people used. It was a halcyon era for homespun indie rock; all of these avenues allowed for many otherwise low-key artists to have a moment in the digital spotlight. One of those acts was the Worcester, Massachusetts band Dom . The group was named their singer-songwriter, who kept his last name a secret for years— reportedly to avoid run-ins with debt collectors (it’s since been confirmed as Cournoyer). Dom may have been one fish in a big sea of buzz bands, but there was something unique about the songs.

And then it all stopped. By Dom’s account, Astralwerks seemed to give up on him, then he brought his music to an abrupt end and pretty much vanished. Those years out of the spotlight weren’t particularly fruitful ones, but Dom has resurfaced with a newfound hunger to write more of those elated bangers for us. He currently has a handful of demos and a new single called “Gud Tymes” that has officially set him on the comeback trail. As the title insinuates, things are going well for Dom at the moment. He’s gotten out of Worcester, kicked a drug habit, and is more serious than ever about making music.

To no one’s surprise, the labels soon came knocking. Dom signed with Astralwerks, a subsidiary of EMI at the time, and didn’t take long to christen the deal with another EP. Astralwerks released Family of Love in the summer of 2011, following a glossier, remixed reissue of Dom’s debut EP Sun Bronzed Greek Gods in February. The second EP may not have capitalized on the buzz the way it should have (fame, fortune, arena tours), but it certainly elevated Dom’s songcraft. Tunes like the freewheeling “Damn” and the childlike “Telephone,” which actually features a solo on an actual push-button keypad , showed that Dom were only getting better.

Dom’s brand of power-pop was full of gleaming studio tricks, but also larger-than-life maxims that emphasized his blithe approach to life (“I got an I don't really care attitude/I'm gonna live how I want to”). There is no better example than his minor hit, “Living In America,” a euphoric anthem built from glittery synthesizers, sleazy bass, and a ridiculous chorus that boasted, “It’s so sexy / To be living in America.” Gucci Mane even hopped on a remix, a sign both of the song's infectiousness and the boundless possibilities of the blog era.

You seemed to come and go really quickly. Did you find the whole thing overwhelming? Well, it happened really fast and I was pretty young. You have to remember that I came from juvenile hall, foster homes, boarding houses and hustling on the streets of Worcester, not really having anybody or anything going for me. All of this attention was shocking and really fun at first. But it quickly became a joke when people started trying to control it and treat me like a commodity. People didn’t care about who I was as a person when they were working with me. They only cared about creating a product that people could consume.

So I guess you’re now a free agent? I’m independent now. I think if I release something, Modular might still have an option in Australia. Other than that though I think I’ve got a clean slate, which is great because being signed sucked the fun out of everything. My heart wasn’t in it, which is part of the reason why I left.

How do you feel about labels these days? I’m not turned off to the idea. I’m just apprehensive. I would have to know that whomever I work with would pay more attention to me and actually care about my music. That would be more important. It needs to be symbiotic.

I wasn’t ready to deal with that with everything else. Usually when I see an opportunity I seize it, but we just stopped talking to each other and left it where it was. I moved back to New York and picked the drugs back up, which was still a bit fun. I’d be strung out on private beaches, and staying in expensive hotels. Like, I went from playing the Sydney Opera House and hanging out in Bandos to hearing the sound of my own name said out loud feeling like a curse. Times just got really dark. It felt at times like I was just waiting around for death and okay with that.

When exactly was this? This was right after the second EP [ _Family of Love_]. I wanted to continue doing music because I loved doing it. So I started messing around, not taking things too seriously and making it fun again. I decided to start DJing, which was fun and gave me a bit of money, but that’s not what people wanted from me. Around that time I went through failed romances, struggled with drug addiction, went back to Massachusetts to meet my biological mother, but it didn’t feel right.

So that wasn’t fun. I understand why they didn’t understand me, but it didn’t feel like they were making much of an effort to try. So I became disenchanted. Everything just seemed one-dimensional. Like everything happening in my personal life and in my head was confusing. I had a cousin who discovered me in a Spin magazine centerfold who reached out to me. Odd people from my past began resurfacing. I realized just how unhappy I was, so I let it all fall apart. People started dying in my life. A ex-lover of mine overdosed and died. My biological father died. It was a really dark time in my life.

So how did you get out this dark period?

A buddy and I went to Detroit for a bit, then Seattle where I cleaned up and got off opioids with Kratom. I produced a new band out there, which was just a really good experience, especially for my detoxing. I have a lot of friends in Seattle who are super supportive, so that was a lot of fun. They were the ones that made me say, “Fuck it! Maybe I will come back to music again.” So I wrote “Gud Tymes” and had some friends hold my iPhone so I could make the video. I had this vision that I wanted to tell with the video without making it too obvious. I wanted to create a visual experience, but I guess it’s avant-garde – by accident. It was fun to make and fun to do and the response has been fantastic. I’m just in a much better place right now. I got all of my stuff from New York and I’m planning on moving to the Pacific Northwest for a fresh start.

Your music really took off while you were an independent artist. Do you ever regret signing to Astralwerks?

At the time I was being courted by a bunch of major labels, and some of them might have been a better fit. I just didn’t like the other contracts. These labels were flying me out with just random people I insisted on joining me. They would tell me how they work but it wasn’t how I worked. Then EMI stepped into the picture, and a cool dude named Rob Stevenson worked there at the time. I remember we were at the ACE Hotel, not impressed at all, and Rob told me that he believed in my vision and me. That he wouldn’t change a thing and we could do it my way. And I said half-jokingly, “Five-song record deal.” And he replied, “Done!” So he drew up the papers and let me have rights to the first EP, which they remastered and remixed to put out again, even though they didn’t need to. So I said they could do that if they wanted. Of course, they put that and everything else on my tab.