Stigma’s Second Chance is a grounded, gutsy step forward from the German hard rock four-piece
Recorded up in the Italian mountains, Second Chance is the sound of a band pushing further—into heavier riffs, deeper emotions, and bigger questions.
Stigma’s frontman Gerald Zinnegger walks us through the whole thing track by track, unpacking everything from late-night spirals to broken friendships, inner demons to cinematic sea battles.
It’s personal, it’s punchy, and it doesn’t waste a second. If First Call was the intro, Second Chance is the reckoning.
The Signs
We needed to start this album with impact – and “The Signs” is a fireball. I wrote it during one of those restless nights when the world felt off its axis, and I was searching for direction.
The chaos is real – but so is the voice inside that tells you to rise. This song gives my answer to those who are looking for guidance right now. It’s one of the most actual songs I’ve ever written.
The bridge line “spinning circles in space and time” says it all. We’re out of line. But maybe that’s where we’re meant to be – exploring, escaping, getting lost in the universe and finding our way back.
It’s structured like a proper anthem: verse, pre-chorus, chorus – designed to rise like a wave. The guitars are layered and driven, the drums punch hard, and vocally I pushed for urgency without screaming.
Lyrically, it’s a call to step up, especially when the world is falling apart. If not you, then who?
Glorious Victory
This track starts in the dust of battle and ends with a choice – not to destroy. That reversal was the whole point. “Glorious Victory” looks like a war song on the surface, but underneath, it’s about stepping out of the path others laid for you.
There’s legacy, blood, expectation – and then there’s you deciding not to carry that forward. It’s big and cinematic – soaring guitars, pounding rhythm, a chorus made to shake the walls.
It begins with pride, and ends with restraint. The bridge is where the story pivots: a warrior becomes a human again. It’s one of our most epic turns.
Blaze of My Heart
If there’s a heartbeat in this record, this is it. “Blaze of My Heart” is me – full volume, no filter. This song is why I still do this. Why I have to.
Every line is carved from what I’ve lived. It’s pain, defiance, hope, and rhythm – all in one. The hook cuts in sharp and doesn’t let go. The guitars roar, the drums drive like a heartbeat. If you’ve ever felt ignored, underestimated, or silenced, this one’s for you.
Faraway
“Faraway” lives in that quiet ache. It’s about being cut off – by walls, by guilt, by distance. I imagined a man who did something wrong and ended up locked up for it – physically, yes, but emotionally even more so.
Musically, it’s more restrained – melancholic, haunting. The guitar textures are raw, the rhythm section builds tension without rushing it. The chorus lands like a sigh – sad, resigned, but with a flicker of hope. We all long for forgiveness on some faraway shore.
Monster
I am the monster sometimes. That’s the truth behind this track. It’s personal, dark, and uncomfortably honest. Writing this was hard. Singing it – even harder. But necessary. It’s about that battle inside, the thing you fear in yourself. The beast you try to lock away.
It’s compact and heavy: verse, pre-chorus, chorus. Gritty guitars, pounding drums, and vocals that ride the edge. In the bridge I sing, “we did no harm to humankind” - but the fear is that harm could happen. This track drags you into the dark… and demands you look in the mirror.
Corrupter
This one slid in like poison. “Corrupter” is about how easy it is to get pulled in. It’s not aimed at any specific politician or system, but about how quickly anyone can get drawn into something darker. One favor, one compromise – and suddenly you’re part of the machine.
The groove is slick and low – hypnotic. The chorus repeats like a curse: You are the corrupter. Make your own links. Politics. Business. Life. You’ll see it everywhere. I wanted the listener to feel that pull, that descent.
Broken Friendship
I’ve been there. I felt it. I live with it. “Broken Friendship” isn’t fiction. It’s something I had to write, had to sing – to make sense of what I lost. It’s an apology, a memory, and a moment of hope.
Musically, it builds from introspection to release – quiet verses, a soaring chorus. The guitars speak as much as the words. There’s no pretending here. Just truth.
Pirate
This is the track where I let loose. “Pirate” is swagger, chaos, and charm with a blade between its teeth. It’s about breaking free from the rules and sailing straight into the unknown with a grin and a middle finger.
It’s fast, fun, and fierce. Galloping drums, guitars that punch, vocals that strut. And underneath it all, a reminder: you don’t need permission to live loud.
Foul Play
Not all seduction is innocent. “Foul Play” flirts, provokes, and bites. It’s about being pulled into something dangerous and loving it anyway.
The structure dances: teasing verses, explosive choruses, a breakdown that hits like a storm. Every moment is a dare. It’s sexy and sharp, and yeah, it’s a trap. But you’ll walk right into it.
Through the Night
This song is about sticking together – no matter how dark it gets. No promises, no explanations. Just presence. “Through the Night” is a survival pact, not a rescue mission.
It builds slowly, riding the rhythm of memory and movement. The chorus is simple but heavy: We’ll make it through the night. That line says everything. No heroes, no spotlight – just us.
World Without Hope
This one came alive in the studio. I had the idea to sing through a megaphone – to get that gritty, street-level energy. It’s raw and real. You hear it in the intro and outro – and if you catch us live, that’s how I sing it onstage, too.
The song itself is fast and fierce. Not about despair – about resistance. When hope disappears, you scream louder. That’s the pulse of this track. Chaos in rhythm. Rebellion in motion.
Your Guide
We end in shadow. “Your Guide” personifies death – not as a villain, but a companion. I imagined a man who feared dying, who struck a deal to avoid the end – and became the guide instead.
It’s poetic, slow, and heavy with atmosphere. The lyrics ask the questions we all face but never answer. Where do we go when it ends? No one knows. And that’s what makes this the perfect closer. Not a period. Just an ellipsis.
Check out Second Chance in full here.
