ARK IDENTITY Finds Beauty in the Chaos on Surreal New ‘Deluxe Nightmare’ EP, Helmed by Cathartic Title Track
Toronto dream-pop artist ARK IDENTITY (Noah Mroueh) unveils his most expansive work yet with Deluxe Nightmare, a surreal and euphoric six-track EP that captures the tension between chaos and clarity. Recorded primarily in Costa Mesa with producer Philippe André in his garage studio, the DIY process lent the record a raw, alive energy.
At its centre is the title track, a grungy, distorted, cathartic release that transforms childhood fears into cinematic sound. Built on live one-take drum and guitar beds, “Deluxe Nightmare” is made complete with Philippe shouting section cues in the background – a perfectly imperfect moment that mirrors the unraveling of a nightmare in real time.
“As a child, I had the same recurring dream of flying monkeys breaking through the glass of my bedroom window,” Noah shares. “I wanted the title track to sound grungy and distorted – almost claustrophobic at times. We used fuzzy guitars, kept some of the rougher vocal takes, and leaned into repetition so it feels like you’re stuck in a loop or a bad dream that you can’t wake up from.”
Across Deluxe Nightmare’s six tracks, ARK IDENTITY threads dream-pop, psychedelic pop, and alternative rock into something wide-ranging yet connected. Collaborations with Philippe André, Ron Lopata, Good Grief, Ben MacLean, Braden Sauder, and Giordan Postorino expand the palette from distorted anthems to more intimate reflections.
Deluxe Nightmare finds its beauty not by avoiding discomfort, but by diving straight into it.
“This EP taught me to stop avoiding things that make me uncomfortable,” Noah elaborates. “A lot of these songs started from anxious thoughts or moments of fear, but instead of shutting them out – I leaned into them. That mindset opened me up creatively.”
The sequel to ARK IDENTITY’s debut ANNDALE EP, Deluxe Nightmare continues Noah’s journey into immersive, all-analog dreamscapes. Euphoric yet haunting, distorted yet intimate, the project captures a strange comfort: even when fear takes hold, there’s still release on the other side.