DAVID VINCENT
BY MARTIN CARLSSON
PHOTO COURTESY OF DAVID VINCENT
You are known for your very deep, dark voice. In your autobiography »I am morbid« you say that your voice became very dark already at the age of maybe seven or eight. But that was before you had even reached puberty.
– Hmm… Before I started getting facial hair, yes, says singer and bassist David Vincent.
That sounds unusual to say the least. How did people react to it?
– Well, the voice wasn't quite as dark as it is now, but it started to get darker when I was younger, unlike the other kids who sounded »aiiiieh«.
Have you ever tried helium?
– Yes. It really sounds funny. Of course, it still sounds like me, the effects of the gas are just wearing off faster.
You left home in 1982, at the age of 16, and then you and your father didn’t speak to each other for many years. Is that true?
– Yes.
Your two younger brothers aren’t really part of this story either.
– They’re not.
What kind of relationship do you have with them?
– We get along. We’re very, very different and it feels like I’m stranded all alone on an island somewhere.
Are they “normal” guys?
– Yeah, not musical. They’re good people, but we just have completely different pasts. They don’t understand my life and I absolutely don’t… Well, I understand, but it’s definitely not for me.
When did you realize you were different?
– Well, my mother always told me that. She always told me I was special.
– Hmm… Before I started getting facial hair, yes, says singer and bassist David Vincent.
That sounds unusual to say the least. How did people react to it?
– Well, the voice wasn't quite as dark as it is now, but it started to get darker when I was younger, unlike the other kids who sounded »aiiiieh«.
Have you ever tried helium?
– Yes. It really sounds funny. Of course, it still sounds like me, the effects of the gas are just wearing off faster.
You left home in 1982, at the age of 16, and then you and your father didn’t speak to each other for many years. Is that true?
– Yes.
Your two younger brothers aren’t really part of this story either.
– They’re not.
What kind of relationship do you have with them?
– We get along. We’re very, very different and it feels like I’m stranded all alone on an island somewhere.
Are they “normal” guys?
– Yeah, not musical. They’re good people, but we just have completely different pasts. They don’t understand my life and I absolutely don’t… Well, I understand, but it’s definitely not for me.
When did you realize you were different?
– Well, my mother always told me that. She always told me I was special.
 |
| A young David Vincent |
Is “special” the same as being different?
– I don’t know. You know, mothers always love their firstborn. Supposedly. Hopefully they love all the children they have. She always taught me to question everything. She read the book and then started asking questions about certain things and I said, “You know what? This is exactly how I wanted it. There may be some things in there that you find upsetting, but guess what? It’s done, and there’s no undoing it, and it’s exactly how I wanted it.” When she finished reading it, she said she loved it. “Yeah, you’ve been through some tough times,” she said. Both my parents are very Christian and it always led to conflict, but at this point everything is so relaxed. They’re not worried about it and they shouldn’t be. “You do your thing and I’ll do mine and it’ll be good for both of us.”
Has your dad read the book?
“I don’t know if he’s read it yet. I gave her a copy and she mentioned a few things to him. He's actually a good guy, he's just very stubborn. Just like me. We're of the same breed in many ways.
You reveal in the book that you suffer from OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder.
– That's strange. If I go into a store and look for a pair of jeans and a pair of jeans is in the wrong place, there's something inside me that forces me to put them where they're supposed to be. When I walk into a room and see that everything is a mess, I feel uneasy.
How does that affect you on tour? Everything is in disarray there.
– I know. It's a challenge.
So how do you deal with it? You tried taking medication but don't do it anymore.
– Well, I don't like the side effects of the medication. It makes me too calm and I don't like being calm. I like drinking coffee and being more aware of things, but some of those drugs… It's a trade-off. I have to calm myself down inside to be able to function. If there is too much in our box, I sometimes get pissed off, especially on bigger tours where there are a lot of people. Yesterday, for example, there was a table and wherever there is a table, it is an excuse for people to put all sorts of half-empty water bottles and other things there. So I simply removed the table. Then I didn't have to look at it anymore.
You also have what you describe as very severe ADD, attention deficit disorder. When did you realize that?
– When I was little. Of course there is medication for all sorts of things. I really try to minimize it as much as possible, because I don't want to feel like I have to do anything other than drink water and eat regular meals. Everything else is optional. But yes, it is of course very nice to have a few beers after a concert. After a concert it takes me at least an hour to stop sweating. And probably two hours until I can breathe. It has always been that way. I get very emotional playing live and then it suddenly ends. But even though I'm physically tired, my brain isn't. So I need to have a way to tell myself to relax. You know, basically close your eyes, breathe, and sit down for a while, maybe with a towel on. Or I just suffer through it.
You're probably one of the few famous musicians from the 80s hardcore underground scene who didn't like Venom when it came out. Too much noise and too little quality, you thought. I felt exactly the same way back then. I loved their image but not the music.
– Hehe. Their appearance, sure, I buy that. There are a lot of bands that have something that I like. Venom just wasn't my cup of tea. I know a lot of people like them. Good for them.
In 1984 you sent a letter with a rehearsal studio recording to Chuck Schuldiner to see if you could be the bass player for the Death-based band Mantas. You never heard from him and I don't even know if he got the letter.
– Yep. At that time there was no internet and unless you had someone's phone number you couldn't reach them. You might send a letter and maybe some cassettes. Some of them you would get a reply from and maybe they would send a cassette back. It was really difficult with some of the Brazilian bands because on top of everything else you had the language barrier. We tried to get in touch with some of those people but nobody spoke English. I got a number for the Cogumelo record label, called them down there and tried with some of my friends: “You speak Spanish, it’s quite similar to Portuguese.” They picked up the phone and got nowhere. But of course we ended up meeting and doing shows with Sepultura, Sarcófago and some of the other bands.
– I don’t know. You know, mothers always love their firstborn. Supposedly. Hopefully they love all the children they have. She always taught me to question everything. She read the book and then started asking questions about certain things and I said, “You know what? This is exactly how I wanted it. There may be some things in there that you find upsetting, but guess what? It’s done, and there’s no undoing it, and it’s exactly how I wanted it.” When she finished reading it, she said she loved it. “Yeah, you’ve been through some tough times,” she said. Both my parents are very Christian and it always led to conflict, but at this point everything is so relaxed. They’re not worried about it and they shouldn’t be. “You do your thing and I’ll do mine and it’ll be good for both of us.”
Has your dad read the book?
“I don’t know if he’s read it yet. I gave her a copy and she mentioned a few things to him. He's actually a good guy, he's just very stubborn. Just like me. We're of the same breed in many ways.
You reveal in the book that you suffer from OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder.
– That's strange. If I go into a store and look for a pair of jeans and a pair of jeans is in the wrong place, there's something inside me that forces me to put them where they're supposed to be. When I walk into a room and see that everything is a mess, I feel uneasy.
How does that affect you on tour? Everything is in disarray there.
– I know. It's a challenge.
So how do you deal with it? You tried taking medication but don't do it anymore.
– Well, I don't like the side effects of the medication. It makes me too calm and I don't like being calm. I like drinking coffee and being more aware of things, but some of those drugs… It's a trade-off. I have to calm myself down inside to be able to function. If there is too much in our box, I sometimes get pissed off, especially on bigger tours where there are a lot of people. Yesterday, for example, there was a table and wherever there is a table, it is an excuse for people to put all sorts of half-empty water bottles and other things there. So I simply removed the table. Then I didn't have to look at it anymore.
You also have what you describe as very severe ADD, attention deficit disorder. When did you realize that?
– When I was little. Of course there is medication for all sorts of things. I really try to minimize it as much as possible, because I don't want to feel like I have to do anything other than drink water and eat regular meals. Everything else is optional. But yes, it is of course very nice to have a few beers after a concert. After a concert it takes me at least an hour to stop sweating. And probably two hours until I can breathe. It has always been that way. I get very emotional playing live and then it suddenly ends. But even though I'm physically tired, my brain isn't. So I need to have a way to tell myself to relax. You know, basically close your eyes, breathe, and sit down for a while, maybe with a towel on. Or I just suffer through it.
You're probably one of the few famous musicians from the 80s hardcore underground scene who didn't like Venom when it came out. Too much noise and too little quality, you thought. I felt exactly the same way back then. I loved their image but not the music.
– Hehe. Their appearance, sure, I buy that. There are a lot of bands that have something that I like. Venom just wasn't my cup of tea. I know a lot of people like them. Good for them.
In 1984 you sent a letter with a rehearsal studio recording to Chuck Schuldiner to see if you could be the bass player for the Death-based band Mantas. You never heard from him and I don't even know if he got the letter.
– Yep. At that time there was no internet and unless you had someone's phone number you couldn't reach them. You might send a letter and maybe some cassettes. Some of them you would get a reply from and maybe they would send a cassette back. It was really difficult with some of the Brazilian bands because on top of everything else you had the language barrier. We tried to get in touch with some of those people but nobody spoke English. I got a number for the Cogumelo record label, called them down there and tried with some of my friends: “You speak Spanish, it’s quite similar to Portuguese.” They picked up the phone and got nowhere. But of course we ended up meeting and doing shows with Sepultura, Sarcófago and some of the other bands.
 |
| On the same day that Morbid Angel was signing records, Entombed released their debut album ”Left Hand Path”, so people waited for hours outside of the records store House Of Kicks! (A legendary Swedish metal store) in Stockholm Sweden. |
I’ve been going through old Morbid Angel tour dates. Am I right that your first big show was in Charlotte, New Jersey on September 21, 1988, supporting King Diamond and Flotsam And Jetsam?
– We were booked to do that show, but we ended up not doing it. They were late and when we got there we were setting up. We were there to play and they were nowhere to be seen. When they arrived, King Diamond’s tour manager started yelling and made us take everything off the stage. Then it was like: “Okay, I guess we’re not going to play.” We were all very young and inexperienced and that’s all I have to say about it. Things happen.
You haven't talked to anyone from the King Diamond camp about this lately?
– No, I know he lives in Texas, maybe a two and a half hour drive from where I live, but I don't know him. I know a few people around him, but he seems like an interesting guy.
I agree with you that one of the coolest moments on Morbid Angel's classic debut album »Altars of madness« (1989) is the backwards intro to »Immortal rites«. After that, you guys supposedly tried to make riffs that sounded like they were played backwards. Can you give some examples?
– Well, because that intro sounded so cool, we sometimes played our own stuff backwards and listened to it to maybe get inspiration for a new riff. It was kind of already weird, but that's where the circle was supposed to be. Not the drum sound backwards, but the riff – how they moved in one direction or another.
Do you mean you recorded something and then played it backwards?
– No, we just took a song and listened to it backwards. We listened to how the riff moved and maybe that inspired an idea for a new riff.
You were in contact with Quorthon and tried to get Bathory to tour with Morbid Angel. When was this?
– It was with »Hammerheart« (1990) that I really got hooked on Bathory. When I heard that record, there was so much emotion, so much that really came from the heart. I never met him, but when I listened to the music, I felt like he really opened up his inner soul on that record. Bathory never played live but I thought: »It would be really cool to…« Morbid Angel's manager started a dialogue with him to see if it would be possible to play live together, because I thought it would be really cool. There was a lot of communication back and forth, just to see if it was possible. And it was actually a real conversation, not just “oh, wouldn’t it be cool if…?” In the end, it didn’t happen, but it would have been cool.
In 1991, Morbid Angel was touring with Entombed and Unleashed. Some skinheads were shouting racist slurs and spitting at Entombed’s dark-skinned guitarist Alex Hellid. Then you taught them a lesson.
– It was during a concert in the US. Some in the audience were behaving very rudely and I told them. I even spoke to some of them individually and asked: “Why are you doing this?” It was just stupid stuff, but I felt they were being so disrespectful to him and I wasn’t prepared to tolerate it.
Did that happen often?
– No, I only remember it happening once. It might have happened several times, this just happened to be the one time I was there and saw it. I was just pissed off by it.
I'm going to show you something that Carl von Schewen gave me.
– Ah, Carl from House Of Kicks! (A legendary Swedish metal store)
– We were booked to do that show, but we ended up not doing it. They were late and when we got there we were setting up. We were there to play and they were nowhere to be seen. When they arrived, King Diamond’s tour manager started yelling and made us take everything off the stage. Then it was like: “Okay, I guess we’re not going to play.” We were all very young and inexperienced and that’s all I have to say about it. Things happen.
You haven't talked to anyone from the King Diamond camp about this lately?
– No, I know he lives in Texas, maybe a two and a half hour drive from where I live, but I don't know him. I know a few people around him, but he seems like an interesting guy.
I agree with you that one of the coolest moments on Morbid Angel's classic debut album »Altars of madness« (1989) is the backwards intro to »Immortal rites«. After that, you guys supposedly tried to make riffs that sounded like they were played backwards. Can you give some examples?
– Well, because that intro sounded so cool, we sometimes played our own stuff backwards and listened to it to maybe get inspiration for a new riff. It was kind of already weird, but that's where the circle was supposed to be. Not the drum sound backwards, but the riff – how they moved in one direction or another.
Do you mean you recorded something and then played it backwards?
– No, we just took a song and listened to it backwards. We listened to how the riff moved and maybe that inspired an idea for a new riff.
You were in contact with Quorthon and tried to get Bathory to tour with Morbid Angel. When was this?
– It was with »Hammerheart« (1990) that I really got hooked on Bathory. When I heard that record, there was so much emotion, so much that really came from the heart. I never met him, but when I listened to the music, I felt like he really opened up his inner soul on that record. Bathory never played live but I thought: »It would be really cool to…« Morbid Angel's manager started a dialogue with him to see if it would be possible to play live together, because I thought it would be really cool. There was a lot of communication back and forth, just to see if it was possible. And it was actually a real conversation, not just “oh, wouldn’t it be cool if…?” In the end, it didn’t happen, but it would have been cool.
In 1991, Morbid Angel was touring with Entombed and Unleashed. Some skinheads were shouting racist slurs and spitting at Entombed’s dark-skinned guitarist Alex Hellid. Then you taught them a lesson.
– It was during a concert in the US. Some in the audience were behaving very rudely and I told them. I even spoke to some of them individually and asked: “Why are you doing this?” It was just stupid stuff, but I felt they were being so disrespectful to him and I wasn’t prepared to tolerate it.
Did that happen often?
– No, I only remember it happening once. It might have happened several times, this just happened to be the one time I was there and saw it. I was just pissed off by it.
I'm going to show you something that Carl von Schewen gave me.
– Ah, Carl from House Of Kicks! (A legendary Swedish metal store)
This picture shows Morbid Angel at House Of Kicks in Gamla Stan in 1990.
– Yes, we did a record signing. I remember Carl was a very nice guy and he bought me a Thor’s hammer.
There's a video of the record signing on Youtube. You use a lot of British-English expressions.
– Yes, it was band humor because at that time we hung out with Napalm Death a lot and those guys were incredibly funny. Especially the drummer Mick Harris who was hysterically funny.
When you're around each other, everyone finds a way to make it work together, and it seemed like that thing worked for us because it was something completely new.
When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
- My best friend.
Short and concise but profound.
- If you're not kind to yourself, how can you be kind to others? It starts with the individual. If you're not in a good place mentally, you can't help someone else get to a good place.
When did you reach that realization? Did you think you were your best friend from 1993 to 1996, the same year you first left Morbid Angel? You say you were a real asshole to people around you during those years.
- That's an interesting question. Probably not. I was probably busy... I don't know, fighting the whole world.
In Morbid Angel, you and the reclusive guitarist Trey Azagthoth had completely different views on live performance. You wanted to be seen, but if Trey was in the spotlight on stage, he would move so that he was in the shadows. Was that something you argued about?
– (very long pause) Here’s how I see it: if someone is going to spend their money on your show, you should give them the best possible show. When I was growing up and wanted to go see bands, if people were hiding in the shadows, I didn’t want to go and see them again. “Why do they do that?” If you’re there to perform, perform! Otherwise, you can just listen to the record. There’s no point in playing live unless you’re going to give a really good, emotional performance of your work. Maybe that’s how he saw it. He said he got a flash in his eye and couldn’t see. Same thing with me. I get it in my eyes and I can't see. It's not a question of whether I can see, it's whether they can see. At least that's how I see it.
From the House of Kicks record signing.
Did you ever see guitarist Richard Brunelle again after he temporarily returned to play live with Morbid Angel in 1994?
- A couple of times.
He died last year after a long-term drug addiction. To an outsider, it seems like a lot of Florida death metal musicians are caught up in serious addiction, such as Obituary's ex-guitarist Allen West. I don't know if you can call it an epidemic, but...
- Well, not far off. Another name is Ralph Santolla (who died in 2018 and was known as the guitarist for Obituary and Deicide, among others). I can't speak for anyone else, but I also see what happens and it's disheartening when people get into drug addictions that are so severe that they simply can't function normally. It's not that they're not talented, they're just more interested in doing hard drugs than playing guitar. In the end, everyone has to get up in the morning, take their little red wagon and push it up and down the hill and figure it all out, you know. As sad as it is, I can't shed a single tear for these people who just make those awful, awful choices. In that sense, I guess the strongest survive. It's the number one rule of nature. That doesn't mean it's any less emotional, especially if it's someone you care about. But at the end of the day, they have to make their own decisions and they have to live with them.
You used to do a lot of LSD, something that had interested you ever since you read about the Woodstock generation as a kid. You say you've learned to reach the same levels of mind without taking the drug itself. How?
– If you’ve been paying attention, you’ve noticed this: I just think a lot. Then of course there’s some psychedelia that makes you think even more and look into things a little deeper. It’s just about maintaining as much of that discipline as you can without having to take something that ultimately has side effects. I feel like the choices I made were beneficial for me, but I don’t need to take anything anymore and haven’t done so in ages.
So you still maintain that mindset?
– Well, have you ever taken it?
No.
– Okay. It’s probably different for everyone because we’re all different. Some people just get carried away and I don’t know what mood they’re in when they do it. I don’t know if they do it just because things look really colorful. It changes your perception of reality. Maybe some people just stay in that trance. I didn’t do that, I explored. I used to sit down and listen to music and explore my own thoughts. You just sink deeper and deeper into thought.
Personally, I found it helpful for creativity. Then I got to a point where I could almost think that way without having to take the drug.
You describe your belief system as a mix of Satanism and paganism. The way I see it, people turn to religion primarily for comfort. Do you find any comfort in your belief system?
– I find comfort in truth. Truth and honesty are my comfort. Anything beyond that is just “who cares?”
Where do you look for truth? Or where do you look for comfort?
– Actually, an interesting question. The truth is often very uncomforting, but it is real. That is why you have to embrace what is real and once again look in the mirror and realize that the person you are looking at is the boss. Believe me: there is no god or government that can be stricter with me than I am with myself. And that is why you have to befriend the person in the mirror.
After the death of founder Anton LaVey in 1997, the Church Of Satan tried to recruit you, but you said no. Don’t you think you would have been the perfect spokesperson?
– No. The way I see it, that kind of mindset doesn’t need a spokesperson. All it needs is for people to think. I don’t want to recruit someone else. They have to find that on their own. Maybe they are not good candidates. Strength is not in numbers, but in knowledge. Unless you are talking about an army. But you know the story of the 300?
You mean like in the movie »300«?
– Yes, and it’s based on a true story. In this way, the will, even against great odds, can overcome overwhelming resistance from the other side. But when you have it in your heart, when you have the energy in your heart – that’s where the real magic is. That’s my belief.
Shortly before his death in 2004, Dimebag Darrell returned to the guitar brand Dean Guitars. You worked for Dean Guitars at the time and were instrumental in his return.
– The new owners said, “We really want this guy back.” And I think he wanted to come back. Over the years, I’d met him and he was the kindest, funniest, friendliest guy you could imagine. He used to do crazy things, like drink too much and come up with something completely insane. Like that time when he bought a brand new pickup truck and came to a concert. He was pretty drunk and said, “Oh, check out this car.” Then he went out and started it and did a power break in the parking lot. You know when you pull the brake and pound on the gas and it makes the tires smoke. But then the tires exploded and he said, “huh, I guess I can’t take the car home,” haha! So he had to be driven home while his brand new car was left with two flat tires, just because he had fun. That’s how he was. Incidentally, I partied several times at his and Vinnie Paul’s strip club, the Clubhouse. I’ve written a song about it that will be on my next country album.
You were at Dimebag’s funeral and in the book you describe how you saw him lying dead in the casket. I’ve never heard of him lying in an open casket during the funeral.
– No, it was a viewing the day before for friends and family only. Yes, it was tough. In fact, I thought I would be fine. I was at the hotel bar and had five shots of tequila before, so I thought, "Okay, I can do it." But when I got there and saw him... I lost all sense. It was actually Dean Zelinsky from Dean Guitars who called me and told me what had happened. It was about 2 a.m. and I happened to be in the studio when I answered. He said, "Well, there was a little problem..." He tried to take it gradually and continued, "I think Dimebag is dead." I was furious because I thought he was just calling to mess with me and make a joke. "This is a bad joke!" So I put the phone in his ear and he called me back right away and said, "No, I'm serious. He's been shot and he's dead." I almost couldn't believe it, it was kind of surreal. I don't want to go into it too much, but let me tell you this: when I saw this body lying in his coffin, that's not how I remember him. I remember him always smiling, always playing a prank on someone. He used to shoot rockets through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door when you were taking a shit. This constantly funny guy. If Dean had called me and said, "Dimebag was really drunk, fell down the stairs, broke his neck and is dead," I would have been upset, but I would have thought, "Yeah." Or if he had driven his car off a bridge or some crazy thing that had to do with him having fun. But to be murdered on stage! In front of his brother! I can't even imagine that. And Vinnie wasn't very strong. I looked at him and he was trying his best not to break down and I just burst into tears. I was just so sad. I've never been sadder than when I looked into Vinnie's eyes that day. It sucked! It would have sucked no matter what, but not as much as when he had been murdered! On stage. When he was playing music. What the hell?! Then I started to learn more about it and realized that he was obviously a nutcase. You can't excuse someone who's that nuts, but he saw these people talking shit back and forth on the internet, former band members and then people who were taking sides, and at the same time he was nuts. It was enough to show me that the internet is a platform where people can spout the rudest, most disrespectful, worst shit imaginable, right from the comfort of their own home on their little keyboards. That's the part of this technology that I hate so much. If I had a problem with you, I would come to you and you and I would discuss it and we could either shake hands and have a beer or we could fight. But this constant shit-slinging that I see on the internet, I don't want to have anything to do with it at all.
When Morbid Angel played in Italy in 2008, you got caught with your ammo belt at the airport security. You were arrested and charged with weapons offenses. Instead of just handing over the cartridge belt and moving on, you contested the charges and paid 6,000 euros in legal fees.
- To win, yes. I was so angry that I wasn't going to just take it without a fight, so I had to hire a lawyer. And they don't come cheap.
6,000 euros is a lot of money to spend to get it right.
- That's it. I just happened to have the money and said, “I’m not going to just sign and give up and hope I don’t get stopped next time.” Now, if I want to travel to Italy with a ammo belt, I still have a court order, written in Italian, with the judge’s stamp and the government seal on it. If someone tries to mess with me, I pull out that piece of paper and say, “Do you want to fight your own…?”
A lot of bands have had the same problem at security. Some bands have chosen not to fly with cartridge belts and instead have ammo belts on their riders waiting for them at every venue. Have you tried that?
– No. In the end, I just gave up because it was so annoying.
So you don’t have a ammo belt anymore?
– No. That was back then, a different time.
Some photos of David from the family album.
Three days before you were to leave for England to record your current band Vltima's debut album »Something wicked marches in« (2019), you did something that turned out to be less than wise.
– That's right.
While drunk, you caught a rattlesnake that bit you on your right hand and you were in intensive care for five days. There you said that if they were to amputate your hand, they didn't have to worry about the rest of your body. This worried the doctors. Did you mean that if you were to lose your hand or any other body part, you wouldn't see any point in continuing to live?
– More specifically, they pumped me full of painkillers and asked questions. They said that every time you end up in hospital in a serious situation, they have to ask what your wishes are. »What do you mean? My wishes are to get out of here.« »Well, you're not getting out of here in the first place.« Then I said: »Okay, if you have to take my hand, just let me die. Don't worry about it, it's okay.' They checked me for all sorts of mental health problems, but there was nothing wrong with me. I was pretty high from all the painkillers, but it was an honest answer. Before this happened, my wife had had an accident with one of the horses and broken her leg so she couldn't walk and had to use a walking scooter. When she got there, the nurses took her aside and said, 'We don't know if he's sane or if we should get a counselor.' 'Well, what happened?' she asked. 'Well, we told him there was a risk he'd lose his hand and he put in a do-not-resuscitate order, in case that happened.' My wife said, 'Well, he meant it.' Then they were very surprised: 'He's too young to say that.' 'You don't know him,' my wife said. You see, not everyone thinks about things the same way I do. So yes, this is true. The day I wake up and can't be me, there's no reason to exist.
That sounds pretty...
- But that's the truth, that's my honest opinion.
Don't you think people adapt to their circumstances?
- Some of them do.
Take Jeff Becerra from Possessed, for example. He's in a wheelchair and I'm sure he doesn't want to be that way, but he still has a life.
- Listen carefully: I like Jeff a lot. In this respect, he's stronger than I am. Because I wouldn't want to. It's not for me.
But how do you feel about getting older?
- Don't insult me.
I don't. But suppose you live to be 95.
I don't plan on being around that long.
Really?
- Yes. If I do that, I will, but again: the day I wake up and can't make music, can't ride a motorcycle and can't do the things I love to do in life – why am I still here?
You don't have children so you have no one to take responsibility for.
– At 95, does anyone even have any real responsibility then?
Not really, no.
– Sure, my grandmother lived to be 98 so getting old runs in the family. But I have to be able to do the things that make me who I am. If I can't do that and just end up being someone who lives in a nursing home where someone comes in and has to change my diapers every day and I can't walk… What would be the point of that? At that point you don't have a life. It's like an orchestra playing on the Titanic while the ship is listing heavily and sinking. It would be ridiculous. But that's okay. It's not depressing, it's just I have to say that I have had a good life. I have traveled all over the world, made some great music and made a lot of friends along the way. I have already accomplished more than 99 percent of humanity, so there is no sad “oh, he was taken too soon”. No, I did not, because there are probably some people who wish I was gone already. It sounds strange when I say it like this but I am completely honest.
I don't plan on being around that long.
Really?
- Yes. If I do that, I will, but again: the day I wake up and can't make music, can't ride a motorcycle and can't do the things I love to do in life – why am I still here?
You don't have children so you have no one to take responsibility for.
– At 95, does anyone even have any real responsibility then?
Not really, no.
– Sure, my grandmother lived to be 98 so getting old runs in the family. But I have to be able to do the things that make me who I am. If I can't do that and just end up being someone who lives in a nursing home where someone comes in and has to change my diapers every day and I can't walk… What would be the point of that? At that point you don't have a life. It's like an orchestra playing on the Titanic while the ship is listing heavily and sinking. It would be ridiculous. But that's okay. It's not depressing, it's just I have to say that I have had a good life. I have traveled all over the world, made some great music and made a lot of friends along the way. I have already accomplished more than 99 percent of humanity, so there is no sad “oh, he was taken too soon”. No, I did not, because there are probably some people who wish I was gone already. It sounds strange when I say it like this but I am completely honest.
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| The band with House of Kicks store owner Carl von Schewen |
A quote from the book: “Women need to be loved and men need to be respected. We don’t really need love, even though we appreciate it.”
– Is there a question there?
Well, I hardly even know what to ask about this… Don’t men need love?
– Okay, I will tell you where this comes from. I had a chiropractor once, a kind of sports doctor. He was a good guy but very religious and I guess he was deeply involved in his church. He didn’t want to start a conversation about religion with me, because that wouldn’t have led anywhere. But he said something very interesting: “You know, men and women speak different languages.” I was curious to hear what he had to say, so I asked, “In what way?” “Well, let’s say a husband and wife are planning to go to a party. The woman says, ‘I can’t go because I have nothing to wear,’ and the man says, ‘I can’t go because I have nothing to wear.’ They’re both saying the same thing. What the woman means when she says that is, ‘I have to go shopping.’ What the man means is, ‘I haven’t done the laundry.’ They’re two different things, but they’re the same words.” So there’s a chemical difference, I think. Not in every sense, but enough for me to make a statement like that and feel comfortable with it. We look at things differently. Chemically. Organically, I think. Men and women look at the same situation, and even if we agree on it, it’s for different reasons. I've tested this in random situations with some people I know and some people I don't know. And I think it's true.
So you don't need love but you appreciate love?
– I think I appreciate love in a different way than women appreciate love.
So when you say "I love you" to your wife Suzanne and she says "I love you" do you mean different things?
– No, I really love her. But my definition of it is probably... I mean, I value her. And she loves me because I'm... I think men generally don't view the feeling of love the same way women do. That's my belief.
Your wife told me that in your home in Texas you have a 55-square-meter room with memorabilia where you keep, among other things, issues of Sweden Rock Magazine that you've been in.
– Hehe. It's the largest room in the house that we don't use very much, so she started turning it into a little museum. She took my old bass guitars, the original Hamer guitars, and put them in cases. I'll never play them again, but I don't want to sell them either. I'm very good at collecting stuff, but I'm very bad at letting go of stuff. I've become a slave to stuff that I've had for years. Some of them I've honestly said I want to get rid of, but then I'm told, "Never in my life, you can't get rid of all this!" And I just go, "Sigh." We can go somewhere, maybe to an antique market where we can find something really nice. She says, "Oh, that would look so good at home!" My first thought is, "Well, where are you going to put it? What are you going to get rid of to make room for that stuff? Otherwise it'll look like stuff is everywhere." I have a lot of friends who live like that. They have small apartments and you can barely move around in there because of all the stuff. I can barely start anything new without first going into the room and tidying it up until it looks neat. If I come in and see a mess, I get confused. My office is exactly like that right now and it makes me want to just leave the door closed, even though I know I really should go in there and do something about it.
With your OCD, is a mess better for you than a few things in disarray?
– Well, the thing is, even in a mess, I usually know where things are. I can think, “Where did I leave that last time?” and then I can find it. But things pile up, like mail. Why do people send me all this? I don’t want any of it! If there’s a check for a million dollars, give it to me, and then everything else can just... Send me nothing! It’s very difficult because on tour people want to give me one thing, then another. I already have two suitcases that are about the maximum weight of 50 pounds and I don’t have room for one more damn CD. Not a single one. “Thanks for your concern,” then we shake hands and have a beer and then I say, “Please, give me nothing!”
You said earlier that you’ve written a song for your next country album. Are you planning ahea
– To some extent, but spontaneity is also very important to me. I have general ideas about where I want to go, but I don't want to be so strict. Honestly, I should be a little more strict than I am. That's one of my flaws. I get to a point where I put off everything I don't feel like doing. We all do that. I'm always late with my taxes and it costs me a lot more. "I know I should do this but I'd rather go and wash my motorcycle instead," I reason. We'd all rather do the things we want to do than the things we know we should do but are just annoying. So who chooses to be annoyed? Anyone? Would anyone choose to be annoyed instead of just having fun?
Of course not.
- So I'm a victim of that too. I'm only human. ◾