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Some might say making a 42-minute album about outer space, and consisting of just two long tracks, is bonkers. Yet while on his 2020s albums like The Future Bites and The Harmony Codex Steven Wilson has keenly investigated the twitchy unease of the here and now, his eighth solo album calmly does the most traditionally prog thing imaginable, flying Moonwards. It escapes into known unknowns. Which is bonkers only if the entirety of your record collection extends to Rocket To Russia. From crossover giant The Dark Side Of The Moon to cult favourites of the genre such as Camel’s Moonmadness or Nektar’s Remember The Future, prog has always embraced the cosmic, stoner questions by diving into lunar seas.
The Overview is not so much a return to form (Wilson hasn’t been off it) as a return to full-fat, unskimmed prog from the man whose work with Porcupine Tree gave the genre a good name even before it earned reappraisals in more recent years. Within the arc of his enduring, restless career, this album makes perfect sense. Its version of prog is unapologetic and classic, but many ingredients are drawn from the sonic present, in parts from the sonic future.
Effectively we have Side One, Objects Outlive Us, and Side Two, The Overview. The first rumbles in unflashily as Wilson sings of ordinary, Eleanor Rigby-esque lives on Earth as observed by an astronaut, whose empathy is stoked by his context. ‘It’s better to live without facts,’ Wilson sings, doing that winking political commentary thing he likes to do. (Former XTC songwriter Andy Partridge contributed one section of the lyrics). After eight minutes, rock kicks in. The guitars are pensive until they busily aren’t. Sounds from all eras of music co-exist comfortably, from electronica to a closing post-rock drone.
The second half opens with rhythms that aren’t light years away from drum & bass, and Wilson’s wife Rotem, cast as narrator, recites a list of planets, galaxies, constellations. A mood evoking David Sylvian’s Dead Bees On A Cake yields to a sandy Pink Floyd feel as themes such as infinity and mystery are casually probed (Wilson’s deadpan vocal style flourishes in parts, frustrates in others). When the killer guitar solo comes, it’s a well-judged catharsis. Every instrument under the sun pops in for a visit, the coda greets porny sax and vibes.
Audiophiles will rhapsodise. Wilson has taken his protein pills and put his helmet on. Step through the door.
Chris Roberts has written about music, films, and art for innumerable outlets. His new book The Velvet Underground is out April 4. He has also published books on Lou Reed, Elton John, the Gothic arts, Talk Talk, Kate Moss, Scarlett Johansson, Abba, Tom Jones and others. Among his interviewees over the years have been David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Patti Smith, Debbie Harry, Bryan Ferry, Al Green, Tom Waits & Lou Reed. Born in North Wales, he lives in London.
“Curious Ruminant could refer to a ruminant in the sense of it being an animal, like a cow or a deer or a sheep – but in this case it’s applied to humans thinking something through, ruminating on it,” says Anderson. “And it’s ‘curious’ in the investigative sense, of wanting to find out about something and think about it, rather than curious as in ‘weird.’”
He began writing the album shortly after finishing work on 2023’s RökFlöte. Where that album was inspired by Norse mythology, the follow-up dispenses with any overarching concept or theme. “If there’s an overwhelming notion, it was just to be a little more personal, a little more heart-on-sleeve, rather than being objective and painterly in style,” he says.
Musically, the nine-track album evokes Tull’s mid-70s output, especially with the 16-plus minute Drink From The Same Well – the longest song they’ve recorded since 1975’s Baker Street Muse. It was written several years ago as a duet with Indian flautist Hariprasad Chaurasia, who eventually decided not to participate. Anderson has re-recorded parts of the song, and developed the lyrics.
“It’s about the fact that we’re all in the same boat – we all breathe the same air; we all reap the same potential doom from climate change; we better be careful to all bail out the boat together, and pee over the side and not into it.”
There’s definitely a sense, as you get older, that this is not for ever
Elsewhere, the spiralling Over Jerusalem looks at the current state of the Middle East from a different perspective. “It draws a parallel between a bird looking over the city, with all its history and foibles and positives and negatives, and likening it to a military drone,” says Anderson.
He first played Israel in the 1980s and has donated profits from shows in the country to NGOs involved in human rights, education and co-operation between the various social and religious factions. “I definitely tried not to make it a political song,” he explains. “It’s more a feeling of slightly despairing affection.”
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One of the album’s most moving songs is closer Interim Sleep, with spoken-word lyrics based on a poem written for an imagined friend who’d suffered a bereavement. “It’s based on the idea of what happens when you die,” says Anderson.
“I toy with the notion of belief rather than having a firm sense of it, but the idea of there being an ongoing spirit and relationship after death is the basis of several religions, and a matter of comfort to different people of different faiths.”
Curious Ruminant marks the continuation of the 77-year-old Anderson’s late-career hot streak – something he puts down to a mix of creativity and urgency. “There’s definitely a sense, as you get older, that this is not for ever,” he says.
“You become increasingly aware that it’s probably a good idea to get on and do the things you want to do, whether that’s travel, or recording a new song. And once you get the bit between your teeth and say, ‘I’m writing a new song,’ the snowball starts rolling.”
He plans to dip into Curious Ruminant when Jethro Tull tour this year, though he doesn’t expect there will be any UK dates until 2026. “We’ll certainly be playing a couple of songs from the new album, and we’ll continue to play a song from each of the last two albums,” he says. “But the set list will embrace a few more early Jethro Tull songs which I haven’t played for a few years.”
“Everybody was fighting in the streets, getting thrown through car windows, it was insane! The cops arrested Jimmy and he went to jail!”: How Avenged Sevenfold went from metalcore brats to 21st century metal heavyweights
(Image credit: Avenged Sevenfold posing for a photograph in 2003)
Avenged Sevenfold are one of the biggest success stories of the 21st century. Their unlikely journey has taken from the clubs of Orange County to headlining festivals around the world – but there’s been their share of trauma too, not least the death of drummer Jimmy ‘The Rev’ Sullivan in 2009. In 2014, Metal Hammer sat to down with the band to look over their stellar rise, and the things they‘ve learned along the way.
You’re awake. It’s the dead of night. You’re stood, butt-naked on your lawn, surrounded by smashed glass and pieces of roof, shaking your fist at the sky and screaming at the heavens as the shape of a bicycle disappears into the night, two shrieks of adolescent laughter drawing a rage from your belly fierce enough to level a skyscraper. Not this. Not again.
“Those god damn kids!” you bellow into the darkness as the throes of slumber slowly dissipate from around you. “Fucking hooligans! Irresponsible brats! Future architects of the biggest metal band of the 21st century!” Wait, what?!
“What can I say? We got ourselves in a lot of trouble!” laughs Matthew Sanders, better known as M Shadows, frontman of globe-conquering metal mega-weights, Avenged Sevenfold. That’d be the Avenged Sevenfold that landed a rare number one metal album on both sides of the Atlantic with 2013’s opinion-splitting Hail To The King, and, as Metal Hammer discovers, the Avenged Sevenfold that used to get up to the kinds of shenanigans you’d expect to see in The Beano when they were growing up together in Huntington Beach, California in the late 90s.
“I hope it gets printed that I don’t condone any of this,” stresses Shadows with a chuckle, “but when Christmas would come around, and everybody would put up lights on their houses, we would go around and try to rip off every light from every house. We’d grab one light and say, ‘Go!’, and we’d ride our bikes off and rip the whole thing off the whole house. Eventually, the cops would come, and we’d have to take off. We had escape routes to get away from the cops: A, B and C. We’d just call it out and get away on our bikes.”
“We were the kids who were sneaking into stores, stealing booze, getting into fights,” smirks guitarist Zacky Vengeance (Zachary Baker to his mum). “There were a handful of pretty good dust-ups. Matt was a trouble-maker and had a reputation around the entire city of being trouble.”
“Ha!” comes the response from his singer. “Well, you know, I think that’s part of growing up.”
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Avenged Sevenfold in 2014: (from left) Arin Ilejay, former drummer Arin Ilejay, M Shadows, Synyster Gates, Zacky Vengeance (Image credit: Press)
Indeed, growing up has played a monumental role in the journey of Avenged Sevenfold. From those early days of Goonies-esque mischief to the excess, decadence and controversy of the City Of Evil era (more of that later), this is a band that has hardly shied away from creating a spot of bother every now and again. As Hammer is joined by the band ahead of their upcoming appearance at Download 2014 to take a mightily entertaining trip down memory lane, taking stock of their amazing journey and the road that has led them to this point in their career, it becomes abundantly clear that once you tap through that media-trained coolness that greets many of their interviews, there is a warmth and shared history running through the quintet that consolidates the ‘band of brothers’ tag that they have worn proudly right from the start. And, if there is one common line that seems to run through a lot of these early tales, it’s that one member in particular seemed to often be at the heart of it all…
This feature originally appeared in Metal Hammer magazine issue 258 (May 2014) (Image credit: Future)
“The first time I met Jimmy, I was at basketball camp during the summer,” remembers Shadows. “I knew Jimmy was trouble because he had a reputation that he was a bit of an out-of-control kid. We hooked up, and he was like, ‘Hey, I’m riding my bike out, you wanna jump on the handlebars?’ So I jumped on, and the whole way home I knocked over every trash can. I thought, ‘I love this guy!’, and I found out he lived five houses away from me, so I got my bike and that was it. We were best buds.”
“The first day I met Jimmy, I punched him,” counters Brian Haner, AKA lead axeman Synyster Gates, quite spectacularly. “It was in eighth grade. I remember that we were in line sending in our woodshop projects, and he turned his head and looked at me like I was shit. He tapped me in the chest, so I hit him and we got sent outside. We started talking about music and were friends by the end of our time out!”
There seems to be no doubt at all that Jimmy Sullivan, known and dearly loved by millions around the world as one-man drumming machine The Rev, was a chief instigator in much of the madness that crowded both Avenged’s early years as cheeky, high jinx-baiting Cali scamps and the headline-grabbing escapades that would come later. As we know and still feel all too well, his journey would come to a tragic and frustratingly early end on that fateful day in December 2009, but his contribution to the band’s history remains immeasurable. In fact, in those early days, as the millennium settled in and the rowdy young gang (now a band with a few shows under their belts) had actually managed to haul themselves into a studio to record an album, both The Rev’s unbelievable talent and his somewhat… unusual approach to things became even more apparent.
“Jimmy recorded all of those drums in one take,” explains Shadows of their 2001 debut album, Sounding The Seventh Trumpet. “There was a bunch of mistakes but he was like, ‘It’s one take, it’s gonna be cool!’ Ha ha ha! But it was a learning process.”
“It was completely raw,” offers Zacky on the band’s promising but flawed debut. “We didn’t know what we were doing! We went there with a million ideas and laid them down with a tiny budget. Listening to it, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the ideas were there.”
“We were 17, and we were writing that record on acoustic guitars in class,” Shadows adds. “We just wrote a bunch of songs, but we didn’t know anything about recording or click tracks or production, so we just wrote songs that a bunch of 17-year-olds would write.”
Even at that early point in their career, Avenged’s ascendance was not without its fair share of turbulence. One notable early incident involved the attempted suicide of their bass player at the time, Justin Sane – “He tried to drink a couple of bottles of cough medicine. He was an unbelievable musician but he had issues” – but still, the band’s star continued to rise, and so, soon, would their notoriety.
After the modest success of …Seventh Trumpet came, of course, the album that cemented Avenged as the hottest property in metal, and with it, their first taste of the chaos and the controversy that comes with owning such a title. Although, as Hammer discovered during this particular chat, not everyone was able to cotton on to the future classic status that Waking The Fallen would quickly earn.
“We sent our original record to Andy Sneap [Megadeth and Killswitch Engage producer/mixer/genius], and he wrote back an email saying, ‘I will never work with you guys’,” laughs Shadows. “Ha! It’s funny, because after City Of Evil, we saw Andy in London, and we were laughing about the whole thing. He was like, ‘Dude, I didn’t know it was gonna turn into this! I feel so bad!’”
Luckily, the band found their man in the form of Andy ‘Mudrock’ Murdock, and though the resulting production job fell short of perfection, the songs spoke for themselves. Waking The Fallen landed in the summer of 2003 to mass critical acclaim, still to this day standing as one of the greatest metalcore albums ever recorded and a testament to the immense talents that Avenged possessed at a criminally young age. As the quintet suddenly found themselves in demand across the globe, it wasn’t long before they also found themselves knee-deep in the kind of excess and booze-fuelled madness that can only come on the road.
Avenged Sevenfold’s M Shadows onstage at the Reading Festival in 2004 (Image credit: Faye Wigham/Avalon/Getty Images)
“The first time we ever played abroad was in the UK, opening for Lostprophets and The Bronx,” recalls Zacky. “Dude, we were in a six-passenger van, and we were out of our minds. We were drinking as much as we possibly could. We’d play as hard as we could, then we’d go walk over to the bar, have fans buy us shots, and by the end of the night we were pretty belligerent. We’d get up hungover, get in the van and then pull over to let Johnny [Christ, bass] puke up on the side of the road. That was our first real taste of going out on tour, and we took every advantage of it that we could.”
“It was everything you would imagine it to be: pure debauchery,” muses Shadows. “You’re out there, going crazy, partying it up every night.”
Predictably, a bunch of lairy kids from California getting thrown into this kind of environment led to some rather, shall we say, tense situations. Most famously, one such situation led to the alleged arrest of The Rev outside London’s own infamous drinking haunt, The Crobar, shortly after Avenged’s debut London show on that very aforementioned tour in February 2004. The band released a purposefully ridiculous statement at the time to dispel any lasting controversy, but now, right here in Metal Hammer, we can finally set the record straight. Happily, we can confirm that the truth is as ludicrous as we’d hoped.
“What happened was, we were at The Crobar, which is the place to be, you know,” Shadows slyly reveals. “We were all there, and I go to the bathroom, where there’s just one stall, and I had to pee so bad. This person wasn’t coming out – I think they were taking a shit or whatever – so I was like, ‘Fuck, dude’, and I started peeing in the sink. This guy walks out and starts flipping out and yelling at me, and I’m like, ‘Fuck off.’ I ignore him, and when I walk out front, he’s there waiting for me! He’s like, ‘Yo, you’re the dude that was pissing in the sink! What’s wrong with you?!’ So I punched him, and this huge fight broke out. Everybody started fighting; people were fighting in the streets, getting thrown through car windows, no joke, it was insane. So the cops come, and Jimmy starts making fun of them because they don’t have guns in the UK. He started mocking them and running in circles, and we’re all just laughing, and finally, they start macing him and arrested him, and he went to jail that night!”
“The funny thing is, when the cops turned up, this guy that wasn’t doing anything before got really mouthy, so Jimmy punched him right in front of the cop,” adds Syn. “He got arrested, and that’s where our manager comes in. He spent the whole night and day getting Jimmy out of jail so he could go to this show.”
“We had to play Rock Am Ring [in Germany] or something the next day,” remembers Shadows with a chortle, “but Jimmy didn’t take a shower. He had mace all over him when he played the show the next day. It was a complete debacle.”
It might make for a funny story now, but the fact of the matter is that things were getting pretty out of hand for a band still barely into their 20s.
“It’s unbelievable that we survived that [tour],” admits Syn. “Really, any night could just escalate – not just because of us, but because of being in a foreign place, being out too late. There were people around you that just wouldn’t stop buying you shots. One time I had 10 shots of Aftershock in my hand, and next to me was my Snakebite and black. I should’ve died of alcohol poisoning! By the end of that first UK tour, we were 10 pounds heavier and pretty fucked.”
If the Waking The Fallen era established Avenged as a band to take debauchery and controversy in their stride, then City Of Evil was a whole new level of crazy. Dropping in mid-2005, the album was similarly mind-boggling in terms of both its creative excess and its shameless, over-the-top execution, with the likes of Bat Country, The Beast And The Harlot and epic, eight-minute closer M.I.A. flicking a middle digit to the mantra that less is more. And, as is their way, A7X took full advantage of the opportunity to ensure that life in and around the band followed suite.
“It was really fun,” Johnny enthuses of the time where he and his friends became heavyweight players in the industry. “It was the natural evolution of the band at the time; we were ready to party and we were gonna do it in our songwriting, too!”
“It was a lot of fun!” agrees Syn. “It was the glory days, where metal transcended metal radio. There was a much larger audience and the major labels were willing to dish out a lot more money for crazy videos and crazier tours. The parties were absolutely nuts. On the Beast And The Harlot video, we just got whisky-drunk all fucking day. We had a bunch of people packed in the fucking limo, popped open the champagne and just had a fucking party.”
With money now in free-flow for heavy metal’s newly established heavyweights, the band’s booze- and substance-driven habits inevitably went into overdrive. And no one seemed willing to play grown-up.
“We were constantly reining each other in, but there was nobody to lead by example,” Syn adds by way of admission. “If [someone] told me not to do cocaine, and I got drunk enough, I’d go get some. Then we’d be out of our minds at seven o’ clock in the fucking morning. Like I said, no one was leading!”
As was his way, it was The Rev that regularly out-partied and out-crazied the rest of his bandmates, often getting them into more spots of bother and, ultimately, indulging his own vices to the extent that the band were forced to take some action.
“We sent Jimmy to rehab for cocaine issues,” reveals Syn, before clarifying “it wasn’t that I ever felt like Jimmy had an issue, it was just a fucking tactic. He loved the fucking party, so we just picked [a vice], whether it was this, drinking or whatever, it was just, ‘Let’s get you some help, man’, to calm him down a little bit. It actually helped him; he didn’t do cocaine another day in his life!”
Avenged Sevenfold in 2010, following the death of drummer Jimmy ‘The Rev’ Sullivan (Image credit: Press)
Upon further pressing, however, Syn then reveals another anecdote that he has, by his own admission, never previously disclosed. As it turns out, while cocaine would never again become a regular indulgence in The Rev’s life, and his stint in rehab did indeed prove a means to an end to that particular habit, a spot of white line fever would rear its head one last, spectacular time.
“Well, he didn’t do cocaine another day in his fucking life… except for the day he got out of rehab,” admits the guitarist with a guilty chuckle. “That was my fault. I got him out of rehab and we did a final cocaine hurrah, and we vowed to never do it again. And he never fucking did! But, the minute he got out of rehab, we did a big wad of cocaine, wrote a bunch of fucking music, and it was a great day! I’ve never admitted that to anybody. It was a little fucked up. ”
If “a little fucked up” might go some of the way to describing life in A7X at the height of their hedonism, it only paints half the picture of controversy that followed the band prior to the maturity and foresight that now envelopes their psyche. In late 2005, during the interview that accompanied their first ever Metal Hammer cover – a striking, Sin City-inspired spread (see over the page) – the band made some inflammatory political remarks that still shadow many people’s perception of them to this day. Openly voicing his support for George W Bush’s controversial regime and stating an opposition to gay marriage, Shadows hardly endeared himself to metal’s more liberal quarters…
“I think there are always gonna be people that look back on that,” opines the singer with a sigh. “It’s a little cringeworthy, but when you’re a young kid you have the right to be stupid sometimes, and I think that when we were that age, we had some different points of view. Not to get back into politics, but I’m about as socially liberal as you can possibly be, and I think people don’t really realise that about this band. We’re the kind of people that think that you should be able to do whatever you want on this planet, and no one should be able to tell you differently, as long as you don’t hurt somebody else. I think those interviews were done with a bunch of young guys that were very strong-willed and just wanted to get their opinion out there, when it doesn’t necessarily represent the band now.”
“I wish that we’d had the maturity of mind to just say, ‘Hey, that’s personal, that’s private’, instead of, ‘Hey! Fuck you! We’re gonna vote for George Bush!’” admits Syn with refreshing honesty. “That’s not how we felt. We didn’t want people to fucking suck our Republican dicks, it was just a reaction. But, you live and you learn, and a lot of bands say douchey shit. I don’t think anybody’s been an exception, especially that young.”
“It’s kinda hard to look back on those things, honestly,” adds Johnny with a grimace. “Some of those quotes, it’s like, ‘Ah, man…’ Even at the time when it came out, we were like, ‘Did we really say that?!’ At the end of the day, you gotta laugh about it, ’cause we were just kids getting our first real taste of success globally. You live and you learn, and you have fun with it.”
With the band all in such endearingly candid form, now is as good a time as any to put down the 10- year-old elephant in the room. So then, chaps. Do you still oppose gay marriage?
“Oh, no. Not even close,” shoots back Shadows without a second’s thought. “Honestly, I don’t give a shit what you do with your life, and I don’t think anyone else should care what anyone else does with their life.” Amazingly, it quickly emerges that Shadows’ more liberal views don’t just extend to issues of equality… “I might get myself in trouble here,” he continues, “but I think that everything should be legal, and until you prove yourself wrong, you should do whatever you want in your life – and that includes drugs, prostitution, everything. With marriage, I think that anyone on this planet that wants to get married to anyone else should be able to do that.”
“We’re always for equal rights,” confirms Syn. “I just want to make that completely clear.”
Avenged Sevenfold in 2014 (Image credit: Press)
While the ol’ “We were kids! It doesn’t count!” argument might on first glance seem a safe shield to cower behind, there is certainly a maturity and, dare we say, more world-weary quality about these Huntington heroes that belies their relatively meagre years. A combination of a more sophisticated approach to their recording process and a few hard lessons learnt meant that the band that came drinking and screaming out of California in the early 00s was a different beast entirely come the arrival of 2007’s tellingly self-titled opus. Plus, of course, while the end of the City Of Evil cycle drew to a close the band’s more hellacious era, there were, tragically, far darker days to come in Avenged’s career. It’s been a steady but relentless learning curve for the band that has resulted in them arriving in 2014 as one of the most fully formed rock’n’roll acts of recent times. And who could have seen that coming?!
“We realised that people had a certain perception of us, and we didn’t necessarily want that any more,” says Johnny of the band’s evolution from snotty metalcore brats to wizened metal veterans. “We weren’t ashamed of it or anything, but it definitely wasn’t how we wanted to be portrayed.”
“It’s interesting growing up in some sort of media eye,” muses Shadows. “We’ve kept ourselves away from mainstream press, but at the same time, I still go back and read the things we’ve said in Metal Hammer and I cringe. But, that’s part of life. I know some people will stick with those opinions of us forever, and they’ll say, ‘That’s what these guys are and they have no right to grow up.’ That’s not reality, so what we do is ignore everybody, have our inner circle of people that we trust, our families and our friends, and we do what we wanna do. That’s how we’ve lived it.”
It’s an attitude that has, in the long run, plainly paid off. Avenged are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the biggest band in our world right now, and more importantly and despite the cynics’ best wishes, that is no flash-in-the-pan achievement. It’s the result of hard graft, tough life lessons, a large dose of tragedy and, most crucially of all, a lot of growing up. So, then, young Matthew; when exactly was the moment you realised that a bunch of boisterous friends from Huntington Beach had come good on those cocky promises of world domination from yesteryear?
“Not to be a complete asshole, but I don’t think we’ve done it yet,” insists the frontman with a sniff of humility. “We’re still getting there and we still have a lot of cool stuff ahead. I wanna really push this thing and play music for as many people as possible, and I wanna do it on our terms. Maybe when we walk onstage, headlining the Friday at Download. Maybe that might be the time.”
If that is indeed the time, then it feels ill-willed to begrudge them it. Hell knows they’ve paid their dues.
Originally published in Metal Hammer issue 258, May 2014
Merlin moved into his role as Executive Editor of Louder in early 2022, following over ten years working at Metal Hammer. While there, he served as Online Editor and Deputy Editor, before being promoted to Editor in 2016. Before joining Metal Hammer, Merlin worked as Associate Editor at Terrorizer Magazine and has previously written for the likes of Classic Rock, Rock Sound, eFestivals and others. Across his career he has interviewed legends including Ozzy Osbourne, Lemmy, Metallica, Iron Maiden (including getting a trip on Ed Force One courtesy of Bruce Dickinson), Guns N’ Roses, KISS, Slipknot, System Of A Down and Meat Loaf. He has also presented and produced the Metal Hammer Podcast, presented the Metal Hammer Radio Show and is probably responsible for 90% of all nu metal-related content making it onto the site.
Feature Photo: Christian Bertrand / Shutterstock.com
Joy Division’s inception was a direct consequence of the seismic impact of punk rock. The band’s formation was catalyzed by a transformative Sex Pistols concert at the Lesser Free Trade Hall in Manchester, which profoundly influenced Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook. Inspired by the raw energy of the performance, Sumner and Hook, alongside drummer Stephen Morris and enigmatic frontman Ian Curtis, coalesced to form a group that would soon transcend their punk origins. Initially performing under the moniker Warsaw, they rebranded as Joy Division in 1978 to avoid confusion with another band, Warsaw Pakt. This new identity marked the beginning of their journey into uncharted musical territories.
Joy Division’s discography, though concise, is profoundly impactful. Their debut album, “Unknown Pleasures,” released in 1979, showcased a departure from conventional punk, introducing a sound characterized by atmospheric production and introspective lyrics. The album’s cover, featuring a pulsar signal design, became iconic in its own right. Their sophomore effort, “Closer,” released in 1980, delved deeper into themes of existential despair and human fragility, solidifying their influence in the post-punk movement. Despite their brief existence, Joy Division’s innovative approach laid the groundwork for numerous genres and inspired countless artists.
Tragically, the band’s trajectory was abruptly halted with the untimely death of Ian Curtis on May 18, 1980, at the age of 23. Curtis’s struggles with epilepsy and personal turmoil were poignantly reflected in his haunting lyrics and stage performances. His passing occurred just as the band was poised to embark on their first North American tour, casting a shadow over their burgeoning success. In the wake of this loss, the remaining members—Sumner, Hook, and Morris—chose to continue making music, evolving into the band New Order. This transition marked a new chapter, blending their post-punk roots with electronic and dance music elements, leading to significant acclaim in the subsequent decade.
While Joy Division’s active years were limited, their legacy has been extensively chronicled and celebrated. The band’s story has been depicted in films such as “24 Hour Party People” (2002) and “Control” (2007), the latter offering an intimate portrayal of Curtis’s life and struggles. These cinematic interpretations, alongside numerous documentaries and biographies, have contributed to a sustained interest in the band’s history and cultural impact. Their music continues to resonate, with tracks like “Love Will Tear Us Apart” achieving timeless status and influencing a diverse array of artists across genres.
Beyond their musical contributions, Joy Division’s aesthetic and thematic explorations have left an indelible mark on popular culture. Their minimalist album art, somber tonalities, and exploration of themes such as alienation and introspection have been emulated and referenced across various artistic mediums. The band’s ability to encapsulate the zeitgeist of their era while addressing universal human experiences has ensured their enduring relevance and admiration within the music community and beyond.
(A-G)
“As You Said” – Non-album single (1980) “At a Later Date” (live) – Short Circuit: Live at the Electric Circus (1978) “Atmosphere” – Non-album single (1980) “Atrocity Exhibition” – Closer (1980) “Auto-suggestion” – Earcom 2: Contradiction (EP) (1979) “Candidate” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “Ceremony” (live) – Still (1981) “Colony” – Closer (1980) “Day of the Lords” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “Dead Souls” – Still (1981) “Decades” – Closer (1980) “Digital” – A Factory Sample (EP) (1978) “Disorder” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “The Drawback” – Warsaw (1994) “The Eternal” – Closer (1980) “Exercise One” – Still (1981) “Failures” – An Ideal for Living (EP) (1977) “From Safety to Where…?” – Earcom 2: Contradiction (EP) (1979) “Glass” – A Factory Sample (EP) (1978) “Gutz” – Warsaw (1994)
(N-P)
“Heart and Soul” – Closer (1980) “I Remember Nothing” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “Ice Age” – Still (1981) “In a Lonely Place (Detail)” (demo) – Heart and Soul (1997) “Incubation” – Non-album single (1980) “Inside the Line” – Warsaw (1994) “Insight” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “Interzone” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “Isolation” – Closer (1980) “The Kill” – Still (1981) “Komakino” – Non-album single (1980) “Leaders of Men” – An Ideal for Living (EP) (1977) “(Living in the) Ice Age” – Still (1981) “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – Non-album single (1980) “A Means to an End” – Closer (1980) “New Dawn Fades” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “No Love Lost” – An Ideal for Living (EP) (1978) “Novelty” – Non-album single (1979) “The Only Mistake” – Still (1981) “Passover” – Closer (1980)
(S-Z)
“Shadowplay” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “She’s Lost Control” (12″ version) – Non-album single (1980) “She’s Lost Control” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “Sister Ray” (live) – Still (1981) “Something Must Break” – Still (1981) “The Sound of Music” – Still (1981) “These Days” – Non-album single (1980) “They Walked in Line” – Warsaw (1994) “Transmission” – Non-album single (1979) “Twenty Four Hours” – Closer (1980) “Walked in Line” – Still (1981) “Warsaw” – An Ideal for Living (EP) (1977) “Wilderness” – Unknown Pleasures (1979) “You’re No Good for Me” – Warsaw (1994)
Check out our fantastic and entertaining Joy Division articles, detailing in-depth the band’s albums, songs, band members, and more…all on ClassicRockHistory.com
Brian Kachejian was born in Manhattan and raised in the Bronx. He is the founder and Editor in Chief of ClassicRockHistory.com. He has spent thirty years in the music business often working with many of the people who have appeared on this site. Brian Kachejian also holds B.A. and M.A. degrees from Stony Brook University along with New York State Public School Education Certifications in Music and Social Studies. Brian Kachejian is also an active member of the New York Press.
“Everybody wanted to fight him, give him a tape or get him high. Anything except leave him alone”: How blues icon Johnny Winter survived addiction, shady business deals and himself
(Image credit: Paul Natkin/Getty Images)
Late bluesman Johnny Winter’s story was one of triumph over hardship, from drug addiction to bad business deals. In 2007, Classic Rock joined the guitarist on tour in the US for a portrait of a man recovering from drink, drugs and the talent that had transformed his life.
It’s some time after midnight on a warm August night, and Johnny Winter is sitting in contemplative silence as the road passes beneath the wheels of his tour bus. Less than an hour ago he was walking off a stage in Delaware, having just completed a shimmering 75-minute set and now is his time to unwind. Music from a 20-gigabyte iPod loaded with more than 4,500 classic blues tunes fills the air, and a pack of Marlboros and Winter’s trusty black lighter sit before him.
If you’d witnessed the scene immediately after the show, you could forgive the 63-year-old Texan for wanting to quietly decompress. One by one, fans waited in line for a chance to meet their hero, many of whom remembered him not as a bluesman but as an early-70s arena-rock favourite. But for most of them, simply meeting Winter wasn’t enough; few could resist the urge to bend his ear about the past.
There was the drunk 50-something who leaned through a window and into the bus where Winter sat, and slurred: “Hey, Johnny! I saw you in Philadelphia, dude! 1973! You blew the fucking doors off the place.” Two minutes later, a smiling woman takes her turn: “Um, Johnny, hi! I doubt you remember me, but one time I met you backstage at a show in New York. It was about ’76 or so. Do I look familiar?” “Johnny! Saw you with Muddy Waters in ’77, man! You guys played Hoochie Coochie Man!”
On and on it went. Once Winter’s window was mercifully closed and the curtain drawn, the bus began to roll. The hordes of people disappeared from view, and the sudden stillness was eerie.
“We see this at the autograph signings at the end of every show,” explains Paul Nelson, a guitarist in Winter’s band and the man responsible for guiding his career since late 2005. “They want to touch him, talk to him, grab his jewellery, whatever. He sees these people get really intense, and hears people talk about how, when and where they saw him, or how his music changed their lives. But he’s like: ‘How can my music do that to somebody?’ He just doesn’t fully get the reasoning behind the enormity of it all.”
The concept of wanting a piece of Johnny Winter isn’t a new thing; it’s always been this way. Dick Shurman, the producer of several of Winter’s albums including his latest, 2004’s Grammy-nominated I’m A Bluesman, remembers hanging out with Winter in Chicago in the mid-80s. “Everybody wanted to interact with him somehow,” Shurman recalls. “We’d have to find him refuge from people. Everybody wanted to fight him, fuck him, give him a tape or get him high. Anything except leave him alone.”
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Johnny Winter onstage in the 1970s (Image credit: Michael Putland/Getty Images)
Back on the bus, Winter lights a cigarette and begins to sing along softly to an old Son House tune. Music is Johnny’s thing. If he’s awake, he’s listening. Rare is a Johnny Winter response that exceeds a single sentence, but the music acts as a catalyst. A Freddie King tune comes on. “I jammed with him at a place called the Vulcan Gas Company in Austin in ’68,” Winter says. “We had a lot of fun.” Someone asks him about Muddy Waters. “Of all the people I played with, I’d say Muddy impressed me the most,” Johnny says. “I was real proud of the stuff we did together.”
Eventually Jimi Hendrix’s name crops up. “I never got to know him that well,” Winter says. “Mainly we just jammed a lot.” Then Jim Morrison. (“He was drunk all the time!”) And Woodstock. (“It was really muddy. Crowded, too.”) He is also asked about the scene immediately after his performance earlier that evening: the people; the things they say; the stories they tell. Does he find it overwhelming to be constantly prodded about the past? “Everybody’s got a story, I guess,” he says with a laugh. “But some of those people can get a little crazy sometimes.”
For better or for worse – often for worse – many aspects of Johnny Winter’s life have been about such extremes: his albinism; his prodigious guitar virtuosity; the mammoth six-figure deal he signed with Columbia Records in 1968; the critical acclaim given to his seminal albums like Johnny Winter, Second Winter and The Progressive Blues Experiment; and the depths of his noted bouts with heroin, pills and alcohol (move over, Keith Richards).
As a general rule, there’s little about Winter that rests in the middle; things are either magic or tragic, and rarely in-between. But for all of his career ups and downs, perhaps nothing rivals the level of exploitation he endured at the hands of his former manager, Theodore ‘Teddy’ Slatus.
Slatus managed Winter for more than two decades before Winter fired him in a letter dated August 25, 2005. (“Faxed over at the stroke of noon, just like in a spaghetti western,” Nelson quips.) Slatus’s handling of Winter’s career and finances is now at the centre of a multimillion-dollar claim that the guitarist’s lawyers – barring some kind of settlement – were preparing in late 2006 against his former manager’s estate. (Slatus took a fatal, drunken plunge down a flight of stairs on November 3, 2005.) The pending legal action accuses Slatus of, among other things, breach of contract and violation of fiduciary duties. But Johnny’s alleged missing millions tell only part of the story.
Rock and Roll – Johnny Winter | The Midnight Special – YouTube
Winter’s ‘lost years’ began way back in the early 1990s. A recovering heroin addict, he acknowledges that he began taking anti-depressants that, when combined with his ongoing methadone (a heroin substitute) treatments, and a penchant for straight vodka, made a bad situation worse. Spiralling out of control, Winter spent most of his waking hours as high as a kite. His career – not to mention his health – suffered mightily. He became increasingly withdrawn, recorded only sporadically, and by the dawn of the 21st century, Johnny Winter, once a seminal figure in the world of blues and rock, a titan of the guitar, seemed to be on a collision course with a sad, tragic ending.
Did Slatus, Winter’s then-manager, wilfully supply the anti-depressants in an attempt to keep Johnny – and his earnings – under his thumb? In all likelihood, no one will ever know for certain: Slatus is dead, and Winter, even if he wanted to talk, probably couldn’t remember the specifics. But Paul Nelson, who quickly forged a friendship with Winter after meeting him in 2000 thinks the answer is yes.
“Nobody can say for sure that was the original intent,” Nelson says, “but I think it grew into something like that. It wasn’t until Johnny was just about off the anti-depressants [in 2004] that Teddy called Johnny’s doctor, once Johnny had started to wake up, and said: ‘There’s something wrong with Johnny! He’s asking a lot of questions!’ The doctor, meanwhile, was weaning Johnny off the anti-depressants. Teddy told the doctor: ‘I want him back on that stuff!’ That’s when I knew.”
By that time, Slatus – an alcoholic who had been in and out of rehab – was battling his own demons, and Nelson, a top-flight guitarist and established session man, was putting aside his own musical ambitions in order to fill Winter’s managerial void. “I was working with the doctor then, screening Johnny every week as he got off the pills to see if it was affecting him or hurting him,” Nelson recalls. “But for his manager to say that he’s got to go back on the stuff, then something’s wrong.” Nelson likens the relationship Johnny had with Teddy Slatus to the one Elvis Presley had with Col. Tom Parker: the artist was a cash register, and the drawer was always open.
Johnny Winter in the late 1990s (Image credit: Brill/ullstein bild via Getty Images)
It’s difficult to deny the stacks of receipts and contracts Nelson has assembled that suggest gross financial exploitation on behalf of Slatus’s management company. Alleged examples include the unauthorised release of DVDs, and thousands of dollars’ worth of receipts that Slatus reputedly submitted to Johnny’s wife, for air fares that had already been purchased by a tour promoter. “Teddy left a paper trail that was almost child-like,” Nelson says. “There was no digging required. It was all right there. And no one could believe that one person could have had such a hold on all of this. We all knew something was up, and it always pointed to the manager.”
Nelson officially took control of Johnny’s affairs upon Slatus’s termination in 2005, and he was determined to help him re-establish his fading career. But first Nelson had to worry about the guitarist’s health. At one point in 2003 Johnny, who has always been skinny, had withered away to nearly six-and-a-half stones. He endured an eight-month layoff in 2005 after undergoing surgery on his left wrist for carpal tunnel, and for a time it appeared that the man they call Johnny Guitar would never play again. On top of it all, he was battling hip problems, which to this day require him to perform seated. (In 2000 he broke his hip in a fall, resulting in the cancellation of a tour.)
Between the substance abuse and the myriad physical problems – as well as a messy lawsuit stemming from a series of German shows that were cancelled in bizarre, abrupt fashion in the summer of 2003 – Johnny Winter had earned a reputation among club owners and booking agents as being less than reliable. He’d simply missed too many dates, and the ones that he did manage to perform weren’t exactly memorable. His skills, including the fiery guitar chops that had once dazzled none other than the great Jimi Hendrix, had been eroded. The scariest part was that Johnny was genuinely oblivious to the fact that he had a problem.
“We were driving together in upstate New York in the middle of 2004, just when he was starting to snap out of this funk,” Nelson recalls. “And out of the blue Johnny said to me: ‘Paul, was I that bad?’ I said: ‘You mean you don’t remember?’ And he said no, he didn’t remember. I said: ‘You’re kidding me, right? Johnny, you were bad – beyond bad.’”
Johnny Winter – Dust My Broom (Live on Letterman).mp4 – YouTube
The outlook for Winter has changed – and for the better. “He’s aware of everything now,” Nelson says. “He knows he’s getting better. He can feel it, hear it and sense it. Now that the Teddy regime is over, people aren’t afraid to tell him the truth about things. When Teddy was still around it was considered a big risk to talk straight with Johnny. It would mean instant termination.”
Now, it’s Nelson’s job to rebuild the organisation and achieve two things that just three years ago seemed to be wildly daunting tasks: to secure Johnny Winter’s financial future, and his musical legacy. The former should be a legitimate possibility, pending a successful resolution with Slatus’s estate and Johnny’s continued ability to tour. The latter, with a little luck, should eventually culminate with an induction ceremony at the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. In Nelson’s mind, when Johnny achieves that honour the legendary guitarist’s career journey will finally be complete.
Thanks to a steady, healthy diet and physical regimen, Winter is now up to 140 pounds and looking better than he has in years. In 2006 he played roughly 120 shows, and Nelson expects his touring schedule to grow increasingly ambitious through 2007 and beyond. “He lives for the road,” Nelson says, “and he lives the life of the ultimate night person. It’s not an albino thing; it has nothing to do with the light, although a lot of people think that. He just really enjoys his sleep. He sleeps longer than anybody I know.”
Nelson also notices other, more subtle changes: Johnny is increasingly talkative and generally more aware and involved these days – the emergence from his long, confusing haze continues. And he tells Nelson that he’s tired of performing in a chair and would like to stand again, something he hasn’t done in years. His musical skills are rebounding as well. He can again summon the magic from his vintage Gibson Firebird that transformed Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited into a slide-guitar tour de force, and the throaty growl that punctuated many of his classic 1970s recordings has resurfaced.
“He’s returning to his old way of playing,” Nelson says, “where the songs were a format for his soloing and improvisation. Ideas are flowing out of him, his phrasing is in place, the singing, everything.”
But be advised: “It’s not a comeback,” Winter says with a hint of defiance. “I never went anywhere.”
Originally published in Classic Rock issue 103, February 2007
Few modern rock stars are as charismatic as former HIM frontman Ville Valo. In 2006, Metal Hammer travelled to Italy to meet Ville and his band to try to find out what made this modern rock god tick.
“I want to see the moulds,” says HIM singer Ville Valo, wagging his finger and raising his beer to his lips. “It’s important to me that it’s the right shape. I want it to be a quality product. I’m thinking latex.”
We’re sat in a Milan hotel bar, and Ville is flanked by representatives from the band’s US based merchandise company. They’re laden with two suitcases stuffed to the brim with Heartagram-adorned samples, multiple ring binders of intricately sketched designs for Ville to peruse, critique and approve.
HIM apparel is big business, and the merchandise folk inform Hammer that only rock titans Led Zeppelin shift more garb for them than the Finnish love metallers. These are positions they expect to reverse as this year becomes the next. To add to this big business, they’re adding an even bigger business – sex. In this case, as Ville himself puts it – “a big fucking HIM dildo.”
“I think it would be a big seller for us,” says the nice lady from the merchandise company.
“Jane’s Addiction tried to launch a love aid set, but it never took off,” adds the nice man from the merchandise company. ”But with HIM I think it just might work.”
Will it be modelled on your knob, Ville?
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The singer cackles at the use of the word knob.
“Sure.”
Blimey.
“Man,” he says, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, “why not?”
HIM in Milan, March 2006: (from left) Migé, Burton, Linde, Gas, Ville (Image credit: Naki)
Today, HIM have a day off segued into their schedule of Italian live dates and promotional commitments. Earlier Hammer took a stroll through the city to be greeted with the sight of Ville gracing the cover of nigh on every music and lifestyle magazine in the racks, while in and around the perimeters of the hotel, hordes of pasty faced HIM acolytes mill around waiting to catch sight of their heroes. The arrival of HIM in Milan is a big splash, and heavy anticipation surrounds the band’s appearance tomorrow night at the city’s Alcatraz venue. Ville is recognised some 20 times in the first hour we spend in his company, before drummer Gas, guitarist Linde and keyboard player Burton (bassist Migé is in bed with an upset stomach – “I shit my bed,” he tells us later) join us to embark on a quest to find a bar that serves draught ale.
He’s on his fifth beer. It is 6pm.
This feature originally appeared in Metal Hammer magazine issue 152 (April 2006) (Image credit: Future)
You’re lucky to have Ville Valo. Really you are. In a metal scene filled with say-nothing dullards and oafish trolls, the HIM singer casts a lone shadow. He’s charming (every single female member of the band’s entourage we meet seems besotted with him in a way that defies any conventional employer/employee relationship), he’s courteous (he lends Hammer his beloved suede pocketed pullover for the entirety of our stay in Milan after expressing horror that we’ve been too stupid to pack a coat), he’s funny (his anecdotes regarding showbiz chum-cum-champion Jackass chump Bam Margera are hilarious in the same way palm over your eyes footage of dogs running into patio windows are funny).
What’s more, interview time with the singer is an absolute treat, a bout of verbal sparring and mischievous word play. He’s a glamorous contradiction. He describes himself as something approaching a hippy – “Like [Pink Floyd’s] David Gilmour without the money,” – while also telling us that he’s due a court appearance for beating up his next door neighbour.Valo epitomises what a rock star should be. Charming, funny, opinionated, smart. Especially after a beer.
It’s 8pm. Ville is on his ninth.
“I’ve quit drugs,” he slurs, dragging Hammer into the corner of the Irish bar we’ve found. “So should everybody. They’re bad for me. They’ve stopped being enhancing. They fuck around with your serotonin levels and they make you something that you weren’t in the womb.”
He takes a swig of his beer with a conviction that leaves us unsure whether he’s being serious or not.
“We are what we are,” he continues, on the sheerest of tangents. “There aren’t any misconceptions of what HIM are. There is only bad humour and bad writing.” He chuckles and glares. “I am what I am.”
So, for that matter, is Popeye. But in the case of Ville Valo, we disagree. There are many preconceptions about this man.
Examples? There are those who say HIM’s astronomical success is largely down to the fact that he’s a pretty boy. And a pretty boy who will shed his shirt at the flicker of a camera lens at that. Then there are those who’d say his pouting, kohl-framed eyes, his toned, skinart-peppered torso, and his free flowing Samsonesque locks can be attributed to the succession of (mostly female) teens buying his band’s records by the bucket load.
Would you say you were a vain person, Ville?
“I’m not vain,” he snorts. “I’m determined. I don’t want to go out if I have a bit of snot hanging from my nose or a big pimple on my forehead. I just like looking good, that’s all.”
What would you say to the accusation that you use sex to sell records?
He smiles. “I’ve been under so much stress recently, so much work and all that, that I don’t think my pecker will ever work again. It’s as limp as Fred Durst. What I’m here for is to make some music, and we’re doing pretty well at doing just that.”
HIM’s Ville Valo onstage in London in April 2006 (Image credit: Jo Hale/Getty Images)
But do you think you’d sell as many records as you do if you weren’t the attractive man you undoubtedly are?
“I’ve never thought I’m handsome,” he states. “I’m like a frog waiting to be kissed. But my daddy is a fucking fantastic verbal acrobat and I’ve definitely inherited that. Talking is fantastic.”
Bravo. You’ve skirted around the question there.
Ville raises his pint glass and smiles.
“What was the question again?”
That if you were ugly, and fat, do you think you’d be as popular as you are?
The singer thinks, for an age. “Ask me again in three years. That might be the trend then.” He laughs. He points at Hammer’s threadbare scalp. “You might have your chance then…”
Why do you think your band is so popular?
“Because we’re honest in what we do. We’ve been touring all around the world for the last 10 years. In England I remember playing the Fleece And Firkin [in Bristol] in front of 30 people and no one cared. Except for us that is – we always cared. We’re school friends who stuck at it, and that’s what has led us to this point.”
That doesn’t wash. There are loads and loads of bands that tour constantly. Some more than you. That can’t just be it. People get your logo tattooed on their skin? Why do you think they make that investment?
Ville pouts. “I don’t think anyone is as iconic as I am right now. We give people something to think about.”
Have another read of that statement. And you don’t think you’re vain?!
“But people don’t see me in my underwear, sat on the end of my bed, playing acoustic guitar, writing a song,” he says, in his own defence. “What’s important is the melody. That the song I write gets to someone’s ears. That’s not vain.”
You’ve avoided the question again.
Ville raises his hands to his face in mock horror. He lets out a faux shriek.
“You’re bullying me!”
And on we go. We put it to Ville that we think HIM are so popular because they give people something to believe in. Bands shouldn’t look like your mates. Bands should look glamorous, and clever, and – yes, even – iconic. They should be distractions from reality, something to hang your hopes on and take you away from the drudge for as long as you want them to. Bands should dilute the very notion of the norm. Ville is many things, but he’s far from being the norm.
The frontman smiles a wry smile. “Everyone in the band has something to offer. It’s just I’ve got the voice. I do interviews because I’m intelligent and have something to say. Gas doesn’t do the interviews because all he talks about is ice hockey. Other bands don’t have the spiritual and moralistic talents that we have. I wanted to be in a band because I have the same passion that Frodo had in Lord Of The Rings. I want to put that ring somewhere. I want to create a body of work. I want to create a great body of work. I want to do things right.” The singer pauses. “You’re still being hard on me!” He points to the cardigan adorning Hammer’s frame. He laughs. “I want that back please…”
To many people, HIM is Ville Valo. Outside of yourself, the members of HIM are pretty anonymous…
“No they’re not,” says Ville. “This couldn’t happen without them.”
But what would happen if one of them left?
“Don’t say that.”
But what if?
The singers face contorts in on itself.
“I’d er… I’d er… I’d audition for Cradle Of Filth.”
He pauses, theatrically.
“I’ll say it again. This couldn’t happen without them. We’re friends. We’re all on the same mission.” He smirks. “Have you seen us live? We’re fucking great.”
You obviously have a lot of belief in HIM. Do you think you’re the best band in the world?
The singer snaps immediately. “No. We’re not as good as Black Sabbath.”
Do you think you’re a good band?
“Yeah.”
Do you think you’re a great band?
Ville pauses. He chuckles. “We’re getting there.”
With that we leave the world’s most iconic man to stagger off to the bar, to harass Hammer photographer Naki for a go of his camera, and to dismiss the very existence of Avenged Sevenfold with a tut and a shake of the head. It is 1am. We’ve lost count of how many drinks Ville Valo has had. We amble back to the hotel and meet many, many people on the short walk back who’d passionately argue that HIM are a great band.
We’ll meet many more tomorrow.
(Image credit: Naki)
“Our tour manager believes in numerology,” says bass player Burton as we hop aboard their people carrier taking the band from hotel to venue. “We have to go on stage on a number ending in an eight. Tonight we’re going on stage at 9.08pm.”
What happens if you need the toilet en route to the stage and miss your cue? Do you have to wait another 10 minutes?
“Yup,” says Ville. “But Linde takes with him a plastic cup to pee in, in case that happens.”
How long have you been doing this number thing?
“About a year,” says Burton. “They’re definitely better shows now than they were before.”
What other pre-gig rituals do you have?
“Gas counts to 66,” says Ville, “it’s the number of his favourite [ice] hockey player [recently retired Pittsburgh Penguins centre Mario Lemieux]. I just drink and smoke. As much as I can.”
Gas, sat next to Ville in the back of the van, says nothing. His eyes looks like a typewriter stuttering across a blank page. Are you nervous, Gas?
“I’m counting.”
HIM – 07 Vampire Heart – HD Live – Digital Versatile Doom – At The Orpheum Theater – YouTube
The people carrier turns the corner and all we can see is bootleg merchandise manned by Milano traders and thousands of fans, all wearing images of Ville on their chest, all perusing the wares (“Man, the merch people will be pissed off,” laughs Ville. “This is Italy. The laws against this sort of thing are different here.”) Rows and rows of stalls stretch half a mile up the road from the venue in all directions – dildos conspicuous by their absence – and as the van pulls towards Alcatraz’s entrance, we see fans, young and old, swarm all over the people carrier like bees returning to their hive. The five members of HIM smile, utterly assured as their trajectory surges towards the summit of planet rock. “This is something, huh?” smiles Burton. For a moment, Hammer feels like we’ve hitched a ride with the Beatles.
HIM hit Alcatraz at 9.08 on the dot. Moments before hitting the stage, Linde takes a plastic cup out from his pocket, unzips his flies, and fills it full of piss. Then the stage door opens and Alcatraz goes fucking ballistic. HIM play for two hours. We’d say whether we thought they were any good or not, but frankly, we couldn’t make out much above the screaming. There’s a moment upon coming offstage where Ville looks at Hammer with a smirk that suggests he’s a man who knows exactly who he is. “I told you we were good,” he says, ambling off to press flesh with an ever-growing throng of gathering fans.
We’d have to agree. As he said previously: “he is what he is.”
Originally published in Metal Hammer issue 152, April 2006
Rock and roll has always thrived on urgency—whether it’s rebellion, passion, or sheer momentum, the genre doesn’t wait around for permission. The word “let” has played a crucial role in countless rock songs, serving as an invitation, a command, a plea, or a resignation, depending on who’s singing it and why. In some cases, it pushes for action, telling listeners to move, embrace the moment, or cut loose. Other times, it suggests surrender, an acceptance of fate, or the wisdom to know when to let go. This list highlights ten essential rock songs that use “let” in their titles, each offering a distinct take on what it means to give in, step forward, or simply allow something to be.
Tedeschi Trucks Band built “Let Me Get By” around a groove-driven blend of blues, rock, and soul, where the phrase becomes a call for freedom and independence. Rod Stewart and Elton John turned “Let Me Be Your Car” into a playful metaphor, using rock and roll energy to fuel a song about desire. Eric Clapton’s “Let It Rain” captured the emotional weight of love and redemption, transforming rain into a symbol of renewal. Bachman-Turner Overdrive took a different approach in “Let It Ride,” where the phrase became a philosophy of moving forward without looking back.
The Beach Boys infused “Let Him Run Wild” with their signature harmonies, using the phrase to express both resignation and longing. AC/DC’s “Let There Be Rock” treated the word as an outright decree, presenting rock and roll’s rise as an unstoppable force of nature. The Cars’ “Let’s Go” paired the word with youthful abandon, channeling the excitement of fast living and fleeting moments. David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” turned it into an invitation for escape, where movement became the only option. The Rolling Stones used “Let’s Spend the Night Together” to strip away pretense and get straight to the point, proving once again that subtlety was never their style. And finally, The Beatles closed this list with “Let It Be,” a song that turned the word into something deeper—a lesson in peace, acceptance, and knowing when to stop fighting the inevitable.
# 10 – Let Me Get By – Tedeschi Trucks Band
Recorded in 2015 at Swamp Raga Studios, the Tedeschi Trucks Band’s home studio in Jacksonville, Florida, “Let Me Get By” served as both the title track and the opening song of their third studio album, Let Me Get By, released on January 29, 2016. The album was produced by Derek Trucks, with songwriting contributions from Susan Tedeschi, Mike Mattison, and the band’s extended collective of musicians. The lineup for this recording featured Susan Tedeschi on lead vocals and rhythm guitar, Derek Trucks on lead guitar, Tyler Greenwell and J.J. Johnson on drums and percussion, Tim Lefebvre on bass, Kofi Burbridge on keyboards and flute, Mike Mattison and Mark Rivers on backing vocals, and Kebbi Williams on saxophone. The album marked a significant moment in the band’s career, as it was their first full-length release since Trucks departed from The Allman Brothers Band, allowing the ensemble to fully develop their distinct fusion of blues, rock, soul, and jazz.
The lyrics of “Let Me Get By” encapsulate a theme of resilience and forward motion, echoing sentiments of breaking free from stagnation. Lines such as “Let me get by, if you’re just gonna stand there / Get out of my way, ’cause time won’t wait” reinforce a sense of urgency, demanding movement both physically and metaphorically. Tedeschi’s commanding vocal performance carries the emotional weight of the song, shifting seamlessly between frustration and liberation. The imagery within the lyrics, particularly in phrases like “Even a king gives sometimes, even if he don’t care”, suggests a power struggle—perhaps internal or external—where the narrator acknowledges that even those in control must eventually yield. The interplay between Tedeschi’s dynamic vocal delivery and the band’s rich instrumentation elevates the song, with Trucks’ expressive slide guitar weaving throughout the arrangement, reinforcing the song’s plea for autonomy.
Critically, Let Me Get By was met with widespread acclaim, praised for its organic production and seamless interplay between its musicians. The song itself exemplified the band’s ability to balance technical skill with raw emotion, drawing comparisons to their blues-rock predecessors while carving their own identity. Its improvisational spirit, especially in live performances, made it a standout moment in the band’s catalog, showcasing their ability to extend and reimagine the composition in a concert setting. “Let Me Get By” stands as a testament to the power of perseverance and the necessity of pushing through obstacles, a sentiment that connects it thematically to other songs in this article that emphasize personal liberation and the refusal to be held back.
# 9 – Let Me Be Your Car – Rod Stewart & Elton John
Rod Stewart and Elton John combined forces on “Let Me Be Your Car,” a track recorded for Stewart’s fifth studio album, Smiler, which was released on October 4, 1974. The song was written and produced by Elton John and Bernie Taupin, marking one of the few instances where John, typically a performer of his own compositions, wrote specifically for another artist. Recorded at London’s Muscle Shoals Sound Studio, the track featured Stewart on lead vocals while John played piano and contributed backing vocals. The musicianship was bolstered by a lineup of seasoned session players, including Dee Murray on bass and Nigel Olsson on drums, both longtime members of John’s band. The recording retained the raw, bluesy energy that had become Stewart’s trademark, complemented by John’s distinctive piano work.
The lyrics of “Let Me Be Your Car” are built around an extended automotive metaphor, with Stewart portraying himself as an engine-powered force of passion and speed. Lines like “I’ll show you where the man in me is when he doesn’t hide” suggest a transformation that occurs behind the wheel, while “Shift me into gear and I’ll be there” underscores the urgency of connection and escape. The song’s lyrics carry an undercurrent of self-deprecating humor, as Stewart acknowledges his lack of traditional grace and refinement, yet insists his true strength lies in his drive—both literally and figuratively. The imagery of “Frankenstein’s inside my mind and the wind’s inside my sails” adds a chaotic, untamed energy to the song, reinforcing the idea that love and passion are anything but predictable.
Smiler received a mixed reception upon release, with some critics noting its reliance on Stewart’s well-worn formula rather than breaking new ground. However, “Let Me Be Your Car” remains an intriguing entry in Stewart’s catalog due to its unique collaboration with John. While the song was never released as a single, it showcased the chemistry between the two artists, who would continue their friendship and occasional musical collaborations in the years that followed. In the context of this article, the song’s thematic focus on movement, escape, and a desire to break free aligns well with other entries that explore similar lyrical territory.
When Eric Clapton ventured into his solo career, “Let It Rain” emerged as one of the defining tracks of his debut album, Eric Clapton, released on August 16, 1970. Co-written with Bonnie Bramlett, the song evolved from an earlier version titled “She Rides” before taking on its final form under the production of Delaney Bramlett. The sessions, held at Village Recorders in Los Angeles, featured an ensemble of musicians drawn largely from Delaney & Bonnie and Friends. Clapton handled lead vocals and guitar, supported by Bobby Whitlock on keyboards, Carl Radle on bass, Jim Gordon on drums, and harmonized backing vocals from Rita Coolidge, Bonnie Bramlett, and Sonny Curtis. With its soaring guitar work and layered vocal arrangements, the track blended Clapton’s blues foundation with the soulful, Southern rock influences that defined much of the album’s sound.
At the heart of “Let It Rain” is the idea of surrender—both to love and to the forces beyond one’s control. The song’s opening lines, “The rain is falling through the mist of sorrow that surrounded me”, introduce an emotional landscape where pain lingers, only to be washed away by love’s rejuvenating power. Rather than depicting rain as a symbol of sadness, Clapton and Bramlett flip the metaphor, turning it into a cleansing force, emphasized in the repeated refrain, “Let your love rain down on me.” The second verse deepens the narrative with the striking imagery of “Her life was like a desert flower burning in the sun”, suggesting that love, when properly nurtured, has the power to transform even the most desolate conditions. This recurring plea for release and renewal ties directly to the theme of this article, reinforcing how the word “let” functions as an invitation for change and emotional openness.
By the time the song was released as a single in 1972, “Let It Rain” had become one of the earliest examples of Clapton embracing a more melodic, song-driven approach, distinct from his work with Cream and Blind Faith. The extended outro, where Clapton’s guitar takes center stage, bridges the gap between structured songwriting and his signature blues improvisation. The interplay between his fluid lead work and the grand, almost gospel-like backing vocals creates a cathartic conclusion, driving home the song’s central message of letting go and embracing the inevitable. Within this list, its use of “let” as a conduit for emotional transformation places it alongside other songs that explore themes of release, motion, and personal reckoning.
Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s “Let It Ride” became a defining moment for the Canadian rock band, marking their breakthrough on the charts. Recorded in 1973 for their second studio album, Bachman-Turner Overdrive II, the song was produced by Randy Bachman and recorded at Kaye-Smith Studios in Seattle, Washington. The lineup on the track featured Randy Bachman on lead guitar and backing vocals, Fred Turner handling bass and lead vocals, Blair Thornton on rhythm guitar, and Robbie Bachman on drums. Released as a single in 1974, “Let It Ride” propelled the band toward mainstream success, peaking at No. 23 on the Billboard Hot 100.
“Let It Ride” revolves around a theme of detachment and letting go, using the phrase as a repeated refrain that challenges the listener to accept circumstances rather than fight against them. The opening lines, “Goodbye, I lied / Don’t cry, would you let it ride?”, establish an air of resignation, where the narrator acknowledges past mistakes but refuses to dwell on them. The recurring question, “Would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?”, underscores the song’s central dilemma: whether to move on or hold onto something that may no longer be worth the effort. The lyrics also carry an undercurrent of defiance, as seen in “Baby, you want the forgivin’ kind, and that’s just not my style”, presenting a character unwilling to conform to expectations. The word “let” plays a crucial role in reinforcing the song’s message—encouraging release rather than resistance, much like other songs on this list that use the word as a catalyst for action or acceptance.
“Let It Ride” showcased Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s signature blend of hard-driving guitar riffs and steady, pounding rhythms. The dual guitar attack of Randy Bachman and Blair Thornton gave the song a relentless momentum, while Fred Turner’s gritty vocal delivery added a raw intensity. The track’s infectious groove and anthemic chorus made it a staple of 1970s rock radio and one of the band’s most enduring hits. Its chart success and radio longevity solidified its place among rock anthems of the era, proving that sometimes, the best course of action is simply to let things take their course.
The Beach Boys recorded “Let Him Run Wild” during the sessions for Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!), their ninth studio album, which was released on July 5, 1965. Written by Brian Wilson and Mike Love, the song reflected Wilson’s increasing ambition as a producer and arranger, featuring a more sophisticated harmonic structure than much of the band’s earlier material. It was recorded at Western Recorders in Hollywood, California, with Wilson overseeing the session. The instrumental backing was performed by members of The Wrecking Crew, including Hal Blaine on drums, Carol Kaye on bass, and various brass and woodwind players, while The Beach Boys themselves provided the layered vocal harmonies that defined the track’s emotional intensity.
From the opening line, “When I watched you walk with him, tears filled my eyes,” the song captures a sense of helpless frustration, as the narrator witnesses someone they love fall for a man they believe to be untrustworthy. Wilson’s soaring falsetto amplifies the desperation behind the lyrics, particularly in the refrain, “Let him run wild, he don’t care.” The repetition of this phrase reinforces the idea of letting go, a concept that runs throughout the song as the narrator struggles with the knowledge that the woman he cares for will eventually see the truth for herself. The lyric “Before he makes you over, I’m gonna take you over” adds an assertive tone, suggesting both hope and urgency in convincing her to walk away. The use of “let” in the title and chorus directly ties into the central theme of this article, emphasizing the emotional weight of allowing someone to make their own mistakes rather than intervening.
Wilson later expressed regret over aspects of the recording, particularly in his lead vocal, but the song remains an important step in The Beach Boys’ transition from their early surf-rock roots to the more complex arrangements that would define Pet Sounds. The instrumentation, with its lush brass accents and intricate chord changes, marked a progression in Wilson’s approach to songwriting and production. Within the scope of this list, “Let Him Run Wild” stands alongside other songs that use the word “let” as an expression of release—whether it be emotional detachment, personal freedom, or the acceptance of inevitable consequences.
“Let There Be Rock” was recorded during the sessions for their fourth studio album, Let There Be Rock, and released on March 21, 1977. The band entered Albert Studios in Sydney, Australia, with producers Harry Vanda and George Young, capturing a sound that was louder, rawer, and more aggressive than anything they had done before. Bon Scott’s unmistakable vocals led the charge, while Angus Young and Malcolm Young unleashed driving guitar work over the pounding rhythm section of bassist Mark Evans and drummer Phil Rudd. What emerged was not just a song but a declaration, an anthem that laid out AC/DC’s mission statement in no uncertain terms.
Unlike many rock songs that tell personal stories or dive into emotional struggles, “Let There Be Rock” delivers something grander—an origin myth for rock and roll itself. Scott narrates its creation as if it were scripture, opening with “In the beginning, back in 1955, man didn’t know ’bout a rock ‘n’ roll show and all that jive.” Each verse continues the story of how rock took over the world, treating its rise as inevitable, its power undeniable. The chorus, “Let there be light, sound, drums, guitar—oh, let there be rock!” mimics the biblical phrasing of creation itself, as if rock was something divinely ordained. The word “let” plays a pivotal role in this narrative, presenting rock and roll not as a movement but as a command, something that was willed into existence with no turning back.
The energy of “Let There Be Rock” isn’t confined to its lyrics—its musical approach is just as relentless. Angus Young delivers one of his most unhinged guitar solos, stretching the song’s final moments into a whirlwind of distortion and fury. The production embraced the band’s rawness, avoiding polish in favor of sheer volume and intensity. Upon release, the song became a staple of AC/DC’s live performances, often evolving into an extended showcase for Young’s blistering guitar work. Within this list, it stands apart for how it uses the word “let” not as a suggestion, plea, or lament, but as a thunderous decree.
The Cars introduced “Let’s Go” as the lead single from their second studio album, Candy-O, which was released on June 13, 1979. Produced by Roy Thomas Baker and recorded at Cherokee Studios in Los Angeles, the track captured the band at a moment when they were refining their signature fusion of new wave energy and rock-and-roll hooks. Ric Ocasek wrote the song, while bassist Benjamin Orr delivered the lead vocal performance, his smooth yet detached delivery adding to the song’s cool, almost effortless attitude. Guitarist Elliot Easton, keyboardist Greg Hawkes, and drummer David Robinson filled out the lineup, creating a tightly constructed sound that was both radio-friendly and musically layered. The single became the band’s first major hit, peaking at No. 14 on the Billboard Hot 100 and performing even better internationally, reaching No. 6 in Canada and No. 5 in Australia.
Lyrically, “Let’s Go” is built around the image of a young woman who moves through the world with confidence, charm, and a disregard for limitations. The lines “She’s driving away with the dim lights on, and she’s making a play, she can’t go wrong” introduce her as someone always in motion, while “She won’t give up ’cause she’s seventeen” hints at the youthful energy that fuels her independence. The narrator watches her with admiration, but he doesn’t try to control her; “I don’t want to hold her down, don’t want to break her crown” reinforces that he recognizes her free spirit. The repeated chorus, “Let’s go”, becomes both an invitation and an anthem for spontaneity, reflecting the song’s theme of living in the moment. The phrase “let’s” in this context serves as a call to action, a contrast to other songs in this article that use “let” in a more passive or reflective way.
Musically, “Let’s Go” thrives on its mix of sleek production and driving rhythm, with Hawkes’ synthesizer riff providing an instantly recognizable hook. The balance between Easton’s sharp guitar lines and the glossy, layered keyboards defined The Cars’ ability to blend rock and pop elements without losing their edge. The track’s danceable beat and infectious chorus made it a staple of late 1970s and early 1980s radio, reinforcing the band’s reputation for crafting songs that were both commercially successful and artistically distinct. Within the framework of this article, “Let’s Go” stands out for its kinetic energy and direct use of the word “let” as an invitation to embrace excitement and possibility.
David Bowie transformed his sound in the early 1980s, and “Let’s Dance” marked one of the boldest shifts in his career. Recorded in late 1982 at the Power Station in New York City, the song was produced by Nile Rodgers and served as the lead single and title track for Bowie’s fifteenth studio album, Let’s Dance, which was released on April 14, 1983. Rodgers, known for his work with Chic, infused the song with a sleek, danceable groove, while blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan delivered searing lead guitar lines that added a raw edge to the polished production. With Carmine Rojas on bass, Omar Hakim on drums, and Rodgers contributing rhythm guitar, the track blended funk, pop, and rock elements into a crossover hit that dominated airwaves.
“Let’s Dance” plays on contrasts, pairing an invitation to revel in the moment with undertones of urgency and uncertainty. The opening line, “Put on your red shoes and dance the blues”, suggests both celebration and escapism, as if the act of dancing offers relief from life’s struggles. The repeated phrases “Let’s sway” and “Let’s dance” function as directives, encouraging motion and connection, while lines like “For fear tonight is all” hint at a fleeting romance or a sense that time is running out. The chorus reinforces this tension—there’s joy in the moment, but also a fear of what happens when the music stops. Among the songs in this article, “Let’s Dance” takes the use of “let” in a different direction, framing it as an imperative rather than a plea or resignation.
Upon release, “Let’s Dance” became one of Bowie’s biggest commercial successes, reaching No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and topping charts in multiple countries, including the UK, Canada, and Australia. The song’s massive appeal introduced Bowie to a new generation of fans, though it also marked the beginning of a period where he felt creatively constrained by the expectations of mainstream pop success. The track’s legacy endures not only as a defining moment in Bowie’s career but as one of the most recognizable songs of the 1980s. In the context of this article, its use of “let’s” is the most direct call to action, a demand for movement, passion, and surrender to the rhythm of the night.
# 2 – Let’s Spend The Night Together – The Rolling Stones
In late 1966 at RCA Studios in Hollywood, California, during the sessions for their album Between the Buttons, The Rolling Stones recorded “Let’s Spend the Night Together.” Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, the song was produced by Andrew Loog Oldham and released as a double A-side single with “Ruby Tuesday” on January 13, 1967. While “Ruby Tuesday” received more radio play due to its softer sound, “Let’s Spend the Night Together” showcased the band’s brash energy, driven by Jagger’s charismatic vocals, Richards’ chugging guitar riffs, and the pulsing rhythm section of Bill Wyman on bass and Charlie Watts on drums. Brian Jones contributed piano, while Jack Nitzsche provided additional keyboards, reinforcing the track’s upbeat, almost frenetic feel.
The chorus, “Let’s spend the night together, now I need you more than ever, “ eliminates ambiguity about the song’s message. The verses, filled with lines like “I’m going red and my tongue’s getting tied”, capture the unrestrained passion and excitement of the moment, while “I’ll satisfy your every need, and now I know you will satisfy me” leaves little room for misinterpretation. The phrase “let’s” is used as both an invitation and a demand, placing the song firmly in the category of those on this list that use the word to push for action rather than contemplation. At the time of its release, the overtly suggestive lyrics stirred controversy, leading to a censored performance on The Ed Sullivan Show in which the band was asked to change the lyrics to “let’s spend some time together”—a request that Jagger reluctantly obliged, though not without an exaggerated eye roll.
“Let’s Spend the Night Together” embraced a bolder, more layered approach than some of the band’s earlier hits. The rolling piano riff provided the backbone of the track, while Richards’ sharp guitar accents and Watts’ steady drumming propelled it forward. The song’s driving rhythm and confident swagger made it a signature moment in the Stones’ catalog, one that foreshadowed the overtly sexual themes they would explore further in tracks like “Brown Sugar” and “Honky Tonk Women.” In the context of this article, it stands alongside other entries that use “let” as a directive, making it one of the most unabashedly assertive songs in the lineup.
The final entry on this list, “Let It Be,” was recorded by The Beatles as their band was unraveling, making it one of the most emotionally significant songs in their catalog. Written by Paul McCartney, the track was recorded at Apple Studios and EMI Studios in London between January 1969 and January 1970. The recording featured McCartney on lead vocals and piano, John Lennon on bass, George Harrison on lead guitar, and Ringo Starr on drums, with Billy Preston adding Hammond organ. Producer Phil Spector later applied his signature “Wall of Sound” production to the song’s album version, layering orchestration and backing vocals that differentiated it from the rawer single version released on March 6, 1970.
Lyrically, “Let It Be” serves as a meditation on acceptance and resilience, embodying the spirit of its title. McCartney drew inspiration for the lyrics from a dream about his late mother, Mary, who comforted him during a turbulent period in his life. The opening line, “When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be,” introduces the song’s core message—finding peace in the midst of uncertainty. The repeated refrain, “Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be,” transforms into a mantra, reinforcing the theme of surrendering to the inevitable. Unlike other songs in this article that use “let” as a call to action or invitation, “Let It Be” employs it as an expression of release, urging listeners to accept what they cannot change.
Upon release, “Let It Be” became one of The Beatles’ most enduring anthems, reaching No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and charting highly in multiple countries. The song took on additional weight as it coincided with the band’s dissolution, becoming a symbolic farewell to their era-defining career. Critically and commercially, it has remained one of their most beloved recordings, covered by countless artists and performed at historic events. Closing this article with “Let It Be” is fitting—it encapsulates the range of emotions explored throughout the list, serving as a final reflection on the word “let” and its ability to convey freedom, acceptance, and closure.
“It made people feel uncomfortable. It made for a lot of misunderstandings and just made life hard”: Ghost’s Tobias Forge explains the struggles of being a masked, anonymous metal musician
(Image credit: John Phillips/Getty Images | Press)
Ghost architect Tobias Forge has revealed the struggle of trying to keep your identity secret while fronting a popular band.
Until 2017, the singer/multi-instrumentalist, who fronts Ghost under a mask and has used several “Papa” monikers during their career, was totally anonymous, despite the skyrocketing success of the occult metal outfit. His identity was revealed when four of his former backing musicians, or “nameless ghouls”, sued him in a payment dispute.
In a new interview with Planet Rock, Forge reflects on the measures he took to keep his name and appearance unknown, saying they made the people around him “uncomfortable”.
“It did make life easier,” the frontman says of his self-described “outing” as the man behind Ghost. “Because, before that, we had to put in a lot of extra effort in order for me to not be visible. And it did create a few image-keeping upsides but a lot of practical downsides. It was just uncomfortable. It made people feel uncomfortable. It made for a lot of misunderstandings and a lot of… it was just making life hard.”
Despite the great efforts Ghost went to, Forge admits he didn’t feel totally anonymous before 2017. “Before I was outed and started doing interviews like this [out-of-character], I didn’t feel completely anonymous. Post-2017, I don’t feel super famous. So, that transgression, or crossing that moment and outspokenly setting my name to things, it did not mean that everybody started recognising me.”
In a 2015 interview with Loudwire, speaking as a “nameless ghoul”, Forge said that Ghost’s members only revealed their role in the band to close friends and family “in order to just function socially”.
“It’s surprisingly important for everyone to know what you do,” he said. “Generally people don’t care unless you refuse them to know. And if you refuse them to know, they will really care what you do. We had to tell Mum, basically, what we do.”
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When asked if there was ever a period of time where Ghost’s identities were secret even to those closest to them, he answered, “To begin with, it wasn’t really that important. Whatever we did was not something that everyone was interested in in the first place, Mum included.”
On Wednesday (March 5), Ghost announced their new album Skeletá for an April 25 release and Forge debuted his new persona of Papa V Perpetua. The character, who replaces Forge’s outgoing character Papa Emeritus IV behind the mic, will make his live debut at the start of Ghost’s six-month world tour, which kicks off in the UK on April 15. See all dates and details below.
Papa V Perpetua will also appear at Black Sabbath’s Back To The Beginning event in Villa Park, Birmingham, on July 5. The concert will feature the final shows by Sabbath’s original lineup and their singer Ozzy Osbourne.
Ghost’s Tobias Forge – banning phones, Papa V, Skeletá & more – YouTube
UK: Apr 15: Manchester AO Arena Apr 16: Glasgow OVO Hydro Apr 19: London The O2 Apr 20: Birmingham Utilita Arena
Europe: Apr 22: Antwerp Sportpaleis, Belgium Apr 23: Frankfurt Festhalle, Germany Apr 24: Munich Olympiahalle, Germany Apr 26: Lyon LDLC Arena, France Apr 27: Toulouse Zenith Metropole, France Apr 29: Lisbon MEO Arena, Portugal Apr 30: Madrid Palacio Vistalegre, Spain May 03: Zurich AG Hallenstadion, Switzerland May 04: Milan Unipol Forum, Italy May 07: Berlin Uber Arena, Germany May 08: Amsterdam Ziggo Dome, Netherlands May 10: Lodz Atlas Arena, Poland May 11: Prague O2 Arena, Czech Republic May 13: Paris Accor Arena, France May 14: Oberhausen Rudolph Weber Arena, Germany May 15: Hannover ZAG Arena, Germany May 17: Copenhagen Royal Arena, Denmark May 20: Tampere Nokia Arena, Finland May 22: Linköping Saab Arena, Sweden May 23: Sandviken Göransson Arena, Sweden May 24: Oslo Spektrum, Norway
USA: Jul 09: Baltimore CFG Bank Arena, MD Jul 11: Atlanta State Farm Arena, GA Jul 12: Tampa Amalie Arena, FL Jul 13: Miami Kaseya Center, FL Jul 15: Raleigh PNC Arena, NC Jul 17: Cleveland Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse, OH Jul 18: Pittsburgh PPG Paints Arena, PA Jul 19: Philadelphia Wells Fargo Center, PA Jul 21: Boston TD Garden, MA Jul 22: New York Madison Square Garden, NY Jul 24: Detroit Little Caesars Arena, MI Jul 25: Louisville KFC Yum! Center, KY Jul 26: Nashville Bridgestone Arena, TN Jul 28: Grand Rapids Van Andel Arena, MI Jul 29: Milwaukee Fiserv Forum, WI Jul 30: St Louis Enterprise Center, MO Aug 01: Rosemont Allstate Arena, IL Aug 02: Saint Paul Xcel Energy Center, MN Aug 03: Omaha CHI Health Center, NE Aug 05: Kansas City T-Mobile Center, MO Aug 07: Denver Ball Arena, CO Aug 09: Las Vegas MGM Grand Garden Arena, NV Aug 10: San Diego Viejas Arena, CA Aug 11: Phoenix Footprint Center, AZ Aug 14: Austin Moody Center ATX, TX Aug 15: Fort Worth Dickies Arena, TX Aug 16: Houston Toyota Center, TX
Mexico: Sep 24: Mexico City Palacio De Los Deportes
Louder’s resident Gojira obsessive was still at uni when he joined the team in 2017. Since then, Matt’s become a regular in Prog and Metal Hammer, at his happiest when interviewing the most forward-thinking artists heavy music can muster. He’s got bylines in The Guardian, The Telegraph, NME, Guitar and many others, too. When he’s not writing, you’ll probably find him skydiving, scuba diving or coasteering.
Ronnie Romero was singing with Spanish metal band Lords Of Black when Ritchie Blackmore hand-picked him to become singer in the resurrected Rainbow. Since then, he has performed with Michael Schenker, ex-Whitesnake guitarist Adrian Vanbenberg and, as a member of Elegant Weapons, with Judas Priest’s Richie Faulkner. Now the Chilean vocalist is about to start his first ever UK headline tour, hoping to dispel his reputation as a gun for hire.
How did Ritchie Blackmore come to ask you to join Rainbow ten years ago?
I was in a Rainbow cover band in Spain, and Candy, Ritchie’s wife, saw me singing those songs on YouTube. They called me. I couldn’t believe it. Since I was a kid, Ritchie was my biggest hero in rock music.
In that four-year period you did around fifteen shows. Do you have a favourite memory?
The shows were great, but I will always remember the time we spent together personally. Like rehearsals. Him telling stories over a few beers. Ritchie is a great storyteller.
Few people get to meet The Man In Black these days. What’s he like?
People think of him as an angry, unfriendly guy, and that’s not Ritchie. I knew him at a period of time when he was in a very good place. He’s married and he has a beautiful family. He has an incredible sense of humour.
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The same question about Michael Schenker, whose album Immortal you sang on in 2021?
Compared to Ritchie, on the personal side he’s a bit more distant, but professionally he was very cool and smart. Ritchie likes to jam, whereas Michael is very regimented. Two different worlds, but I enjoyed them both.
At around the same time, you joined the band Vandenberg. Here is where it all starts to get confusing.
After we recorded the Vandenberg album [2020] I was told there would be no touring, so I joined Michael. And suddenly there were lots of Vandenberg shows. I stayed with Michael. That’s the short version of the story.
Other acts you’ve been involved with include Sunstorm and the Intelligent Music Project, the latter entering the Eurovision Song Contest. For someone aiming to establish themselves as a credible artist, a very strange choice.
[Laughing] I agree. That’s no environment for a rock musician. I was dragged into Eurovision, unfortunately. And I really regret it. Right now I’m dropping the other things I’ve done unless they’re studio projects. I’m really, really focusing on my solo career, apart from Elegant Weapons, the side-band of [Judas Priest guitarist] Richie Faulkner.
The title of your 2023 solo album, Too Many Lies, Too Many Masters, is appropriate and seems to emphasise your previous statement.
After three years with Michael, I want to step aside from being seen as the singer of another guy. I’m intrigued to know how people will react to an album and a tour in my own name. I’m told the [ticket] sales are really good.
Too Many Lies was preceded by a pair of solo covers albums. Again, not conducive to being taken seriously as a creative force.
The record label [Frontiers] wanted to keep my name out there. I wasn’t sure about that. It was a moment that made me think: “Okay, from now on it must be the real thing.”
What should we expect on this solo tour?
We’ll mostly play my own material, but I know people will expect to hear some Rainbow and Schenker and I’m happy to do that stuff. DL
Peter Engel, the TV executive best-known for changing the landscape of young adult programming in the early ‘90s, has died at the age of 88.
Engel’s family confirmed his death to Variety, noting that he passed away in his Santa Monica home.
Born in Manhattan in 1936, Engel began his career as an NBC Page at the network’s famed 30 Rock location. He relocated to Los Angeles in 1967 and eventually worked his way up to producer. His early TV credits included the series How to Survive a Marriage and The Paul Williams Show in the late ‘70s. Still, it would be a decade later that Engel truly left his mark on television.
“Brandon Tartikoff, the president of NBC, said he wanted me to do a live-action show on Saturday morning,” Engel recalled in a 2016 interview. “I said, ‘No! Get someone else! I don’t want to do a Saturday morning show!’”
Tartikoff’s initial concept was called Good Morning, Miss Bliss, inspired by his real-life sixth grade teacher. Despite his initial skepticism, Engel agreed to helm the project, which initially ran on the Disney Channel in 1989. When the show failed to find an audience, Engel reworked it into a spin-off for NBC’s Saturday morning slot. The new series, focused more on the students than the teacher, was called Saved by the Bell.
With a cast of characters that included Zach Morris (Mark-Paul Gosselaar), A.C. Slater (Mario Lopez), Kelly Kapowski (Tiffani-Amber Thiessen) and Screech Powers (Dustin Diamond), Saved by the Bell became an unexpected success. The sitcom clicked with kids across America, making it a ‘90s pop-culture phenomenon.
The success of Saved by the Bell led NBC to create TNBC, an entire block of Saturday morning programming dedicated to young-adult audiences. Engel was one of the driving forces behind TNBC and modeled more shows – including California Dreams, Hang Time and City Guys – off of the Saved by the Bell formula.
As TNBC’s popularity began to wane, Engel moved away from the programming. His last show in the block ended in 2001 and TNBC was retired by the network a year later.
In 2003, Engel transitioned to reality television with the comedian competition series Last Comic Standing. The series ran for nine series on NBC and helped propel the careers of Iliza Shlesinger, Amy Schumer and Doug Benson (among others). Engel released his autobiography, I Was Saved by the Bell: Stories of Life, Love, and Dreams That Do Come True, in 2016.
