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Opening The Creative Doors: A Conversation About Writing, Sobriety, and Metal With D. Randall Blythe

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Fifteen years ago, Ryan Kent interviewed Lamb Of God vocalist Randy Blythe for RVA Mag. Fifteen years later, they reconvene for another conversation about everything that’s changed and everything they’ve learned over the past decade and a half.

I haven’t gotten much better at interviewing bands in the 18 years since I started doing so, and there have been a slew of interviews during that time. The problem might be nerves or substance abuse, or maybe I’m just a fucking clown. So, all of this is purely an accident. It was an accident fifteen years ago when I first interviewed Lamb Of God/Halo Of Locusts vocalist D. Randall Blythe for RVA Magazine. A far more skilled journalist should have conducted that interview. Unfortunately for them, I asked, and they did not. That’s what happens sometimes, folks.

Here’s how that first interview happened. Over the years, I’ve learned to swallow my pride and ask for what I want. Being drunk on Alleykatz’s draft PBR in 2006, I asked Halo Of Locusts’s tour manager, AJ, if I could interview their singer. AJ said, “Sure. Wait here.” Honestly, I hadn’t planned on that answer. After hearing “no” enough times, it had begun to sound like a nickname. But I did what he told me; I waited right there and wrote in my spiral notebook whatever bonehead questions I could think of in those few short minutes. There wasn’t a photographer with me, and I can’t believe I had the wherewithal to bring a tape recorder.

If you’ve read the interview, you’ll know what I mean. It reads like a book report written on the school bus. I may have asked the questions, but Randy conducted the interview, and he let me know I was that kid from the school bus.

Fifteen years later, it’s still an accident. Typically, you interview someone once, and that’s it. That Fight Club adage of “single-serving friend” certainly rings true. But not in Richmond; in this place, we’re all bees returning to the same fucking hive. 

Throughout the intervening years, my life has crisscrossed with Randy’s. That single serving accidentally turned into multiple servings. Richmond is wonderful for episodes like that. Meet someone once and you can end up knowing them for years. Maybe they’ll even have a small hand in getting you off the sauce.

This time, I just asked Randy for the interview on my own. A few hours later, we met at McCormack’s Irish Pub on 18th street, where the original interview took place. This time it happened upstairs on the stage, sans alcohol, with R. Anthony Harris and Joey Wharton taking photos. This time, I only wrote down one question to ask Randy. Being the conductor of a locomotive for 25 years, I figured he could get us back to the hive. This is the conversation that transpired after I pressed “record.”

D. Randall Blythe: We’re waiting for the real band to come on. You had to load out through the back of Twisters, and it was always a nightmare, pushing through the crowd and all that shit. I was pushing this fucking bass cabinet and Dave [Brockie] was sitting at the bar and had two hot babes on him. Lording it up, drinking a beer. He looks over, he sees me. He goes, “Hey, Randy. It’s a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.” I was like, “Holy shit, he knows my name.” Not what to expect when you first meet the guy. His reputation. Well, Dave had also said things to me that I wouldn’t let my own mother get away with, but it’s fucking Dave. Like, you love him.

All right, let’s do this thing. Let’s have a talk.

Ryan Kent: What would you say to 35-year-old Randy the night we first hung out? You’re a much different person than you were then. Like, imagine if you just walked in and you’re like, dude, I’m from the fucking future.

RB: Well, first thing I’d probably say to him, 35-year-old Randy: “Bro, you look like shit. You need to tighten up. You are rapidly rocketing towards a bad time.” And that was certainly the case. I got sober at 39, so at age 35, that was right around the time I first tried — started trying — to quit drinking. And it took me about four years. That was just between tours. 

RK: Yeah, like you drink already on tour, come home and chill. 

RB: Exactly, dude. I would not drink at home, but I would still eat a ton of opiates, you know? Pain pills. It was kind of like a placeholder for me. I used to have my chick drop me off at the airport hours early if we were going on tour. I needed to get there early just so I could go directly to the bar. Start pounding fuckin’ shots of Jägermeister and drinking Heineken. I wouldn’t make it through security at Richmond International Airport; I’d go straight to Applebee’s or whatever the fuck it is, and just start getting wasted at eight o’clock in the morning.

I wouldn’t really have much more to say to that 35-year-old, right? I think that would be Priority Number One. Just, “Dude, you look like shit. Chill out. Stop fucking up your life.” But at the same time, 35-year-old Randy would have looked at me and said, “Fuck off. I got this, okay? What the fuck do you know, Future Man?”

I think sometimes about the past and things I could do differently, and I’ve come to the realization that’s a completely and utterly futile exercise. Because where we are right now is because of what you did. The present moment is the only thing that exists. Back then, it was the present moment. Right now is the present moment. And then if we make it till tomorrow, wake up, it’ll be the present moment. So, we have to do the best at the present moment that we are in. And I will say, I’m utterly thrilled to be sitting up here, on this stage, upstairs, above McCormack’s. It’s fucking dusty and there’s chairs and stuff here, but I mean, I’ve seen so many good bands here. I played shows here myself. I haven’t been up here in years. It’s just awesome to sit here.

RK: Cheers.

RB: One nonalcoholic Lamb of God-branded BrewDog beer, and one 7-11 brand coffee. Yes, sir. I’m not even smoking real cigarettes.

RK: Hey, I’m getting my shot because of that. My mother said, “Smoking will get you nowhere,” and I was like, “It got me in line.” It’s like that Chris Rock thing, when Marion Barry got in trouble for smoking crack. He was saying to a kid, “You know, if you do drugs, you’ll never be anything.” The kid’s like, “I could be Mayor!”

RB: Well, here in Richmond, we have Chuck Richardson, I believe is his name. Black gentleman. He was a Vietnam vet who came back, as many did from Vietnam, with an opiate habit. He was a city councilman on and off for years and got busted a few times with heroin. But he wasn’t a kingpin, he was just moving shit to support his own habit. I don’t know that much about his constituency, but from what I understood, he was doing a pretty good job for his constituency. He’s just a fucking drug addict. So, I think, even in my lifetime, it’s worth mentioning that the understanding of the nature of addiction has broadened. I bitch about the kids sometimes, [but] I do think one thing that is cool with the younger generation: I think that they are, on the whole, not as entranced with the idea of becoming a completely fucked up mess as you and I were. 

RK: Self-destructive.

RB: Yeah. Self-destructive. Glamorous fuckin’ rock and roll writer, whatever, you know. 

RK: Oh, speaking of that, though, like what we were talking about with present and everything. I know with sobriety, I’m three years — let me rephrase that. I don’t drink alcohol. You are sober. I do what I do. I’ve found I have a lot of remorse. Not pity. Remorse. I’ve spoken to my friends and they’re like, “You know, if it wasn’t for you fucking up and just plain sucking, you wouldn’t be here doing what you do now.” So, when it comes to you, do you look back at that time period with any remorse? Or is it just like, “Okay, I did those things. I wasn’t a bad person. I mean, I was a drunk, but I got where I am because I was crazy.” Right? 

RB: I mean, I was utterly fucking crazy. That’s for sure. I think I certainly did some shitty things when I was drunk, things I’m not too proud of, as most alcoholics do. Anybody who has any sort of substance abuse problem can attest that very few people enrich their character by becoming addicted to drugs or alcohol. The little check marks on your karmic balance sheet don’t really go into the positive. I’ve been super hard on myself, but I wasn’t the Hitler of alcoholism. I wasn’t the Attila the Hun of alcoholism. I wasn’t the Pol Pot of alcoholism all these years ago. I wasn’t even like a two-bit budget failed-Third-World-coup-attempting wannabe dictator of alcoholism. I was just a fucking drunk who was an asshole sometimes and did some shitty things.

That is not to dismiss any responsibility for anything I did during those times, because I try to maintain accountability — I’m really into that. Just because I was an alcoholic doesn’t mean I can’t be held accountable. But at the same time, a lot of this self-obsession, when you really think about all this, it’s like the other side of narcissism. Really kicking your own ass out hard is just as self-obsessed as the grandiose, manic sort of narcissist.

RK: Or somebody who just thinks about their muscles. 

RB: Yeah, exactly. 

RK: It’s like, I’m thinking about crawling on the ground tonight. You’re thinking about 500 reps. Mental masturbation. 

RB: Yeah, exactly. And furthermore, as a guy who’s been sober 10 years now, because people helped me get sober: I view it as my responsibility. If you want to call it a karmic debt, or whatever: what comes around goes around. Paying it forward. However you want to put it out. I sort of view it as my responsibility, that if there’s someone who needs my help getting sober, then I will do my best to help them. Right? I cannot do my best to help someone, and I cannot use my past experiences to help someone, if I’m sitting there wallowing in them. I have to recognize them. Come to terms with them if need be. Make it right with some people, which I’ve done before, and then I have to move on. If I’m here to help anyone and I’m just sitting there going, “Oh my god, you’re a drunk. You asshole,” sitting there just kicking my own ass forever, I’m useless. I’m combat ineffective.

RK: This winter, I’ve spent months at night walking around the Fan. A lot of it was identifying and holding myself accountable, even if it was just mentally at 11:30 when I walked around with cigarettes. Just being able to identify and open it up and leave it there. Just be done with it. That’s freeing. 

RB: It’s liberating, and for every one of my friends and family, not one of them has ever said to me, “Man, I miss the old Randy who was drinking all the time.” Not one. And these people are still my friends, and they’re still my family.

RK: Are there things about who you were then that are not here anymore? That aren’t necessarily good or bad, they’re just not here anymore?

RB: I think I miss certain things about time periods that are not here. That’s for any of us of at a certain age. Not just me. As far as missing the guy who used to come in here and drink downstairs, or up here in this very bar where we sit… I mean, I had some good fucking times here. There is no doubt about it. However, I do not romanticize those times, because I know how they ended. Which was me crying in my backyard, “What is wrong with me?” Well, I mean, you’re a fucking alcoholic, and everyone else is telling you you’re an alcoholic. Maybe you ought to quit drinking.

I used to have these romantic fantasies, dude. In my fantasy, somewhere in a room sort of like this. It’s dim, and there’s light coming through, but it’s also sort of in the Old West, like a saloon. And I’m sitting there with a bottle of whiskey, even though I never drank whiskey. I didn’t like it, I’m a beer guy. Then I see like a neurologist or a rare disease expert, who looks at me and examines me. I’m sitting in this dusty room, grimly, drinking my bottle. This guy says, “You know, Randy, you are one of the very few people in the world who has been diagnosed with Shippenheimer Syndrome. Frankly, I don’t know how you’ve made it this long. No wonder you drink so much, as any human would.” Then he explains this to all my friends and my family. And they’re all like, “We’re so sorry.” It’s just this total egotist escapism, romantic fantasy. Anything to not face the fact, “You’re a fucking alcoholic, dude.”

Do I believe it is my fault that I’m an alcoholic? No, because whether I drank myself there or whether it was genetic, nurture versus nature, it doesn’t matter. No one, when they’re little kids says, “You know what? I want to grow up and fuck my life up!” So that doesn’t mean I don’t have to take responsibility for it, but I have to accept it. You know what I mean?

I used to think all sorts of crazy shit like that, because I just didn’t want to face the facts. That’s a strange thing about alcoholism, it warps your perceptions. It warps them to where you just can’t understand reality. Literally, man, when I would think about myself, towards the end of my drinking and shit, I would wake up and I would wanna die after having pissed everybody off the night before or whatever. I’d be like, “Why did I do that? I would never do that. Maybe I should stop drinking.” And then a little while later, the monkey would start talking to me. It’s fucking crazy. 

RK: It is crazy. Before I quit, I felt like I was betraying alcohol by quitting. I was really doing myself, and what I’d been planning on doing with my life, a real injustice by quitting. Then one day a switch was flipped. I was like, “All right, boy. Let’s see how your life is in a week of not drinking.” Any other time, I was counting the minutes I hadn’t drank. This time, it was the end of the week and I didn’t even realize it. Then I looked at my life and was like, “Well, everything is better.” Then we see people we look up to and we’re like, “Well, fuck, Bukowski was wasted. Hunter S. Thompson was on acid or whatever. He was drunk.” 

RB: Yeah. And Hemingway blew his brains out.

RK: It’s just that weird feeling, like somehow, I was letting them down. Like they gave a shit. 

RB: You were looking at the romanticized view. You were looking at the Keith Richards example. I’ll tell you what, being in the rock’n’roll business… I mean, in my band, I’ve been at it for, what, 25 years? I know a whole lot of dead people who were fucking rock and rollers just like Keith Richards. Some of them, who have hung out in this very fucking room, you know, and they are no longer with us because they did not fit the Keith Richards profile. But very few people fit the Keith Richards profile. Keith Richards being Number One — he also fucking gets his blood flushed. And we don’t have this. This is Lamb of God, not Led Zeppelin. We don’t have Rolling Stones money. And even if I did, the mental pain, the exhaustion of dealing with being an alcoholic, just wore me out after a while. 

RK: I would get this thing in the morning. I wouldn’t have even done anything wrong the night before. I would have gotten drunk and hung out with my friends and had a great time. I wouldn’t have said anything too stupid. I wouldn’t have been too overly honest. I wouldn’t have pissed anyone off. But I would wake up in the morning and feel guilty. It was like, “Why the fuck do I feel guilty?” “Well, because I spent all that money and now, I don’t have any.” I set out that morning saying, “I’m hungover. I’m not having a drink.” Then eight hours in the kitchen, after my shift, I couldn’t wait to have a drink. And I was just like, “I’m not in control.” I was scared, because all I did was drink. So now, what am I going to do to replace that? You have surfing, and you have photography, which you have been able to come into and be good at and replace the drinking.

RB: Well, yeah. I think that’s the other aspect of being a creative guy — a creative person, rather, but in this case, being a creative dude. Being a musician and writer. We mentioned several of them. There’s fucking Bukowski, the hard drinking guy. And Hemingway, of course, who helped redefine the written language, the way we do it, he was fucking drinking. So, you have these people you can look at and hold as these paradigms, and they were hard to keep, dude. I wanted to write, even beyond the band thing. I did some writing before I was in the band, some during it, but I had this idea, this romantic idea of the manly writer, and so, I proceeded to drink and womanize and do some drugs and get in a few fights and all that stuff. I was doing all the things that the great writers did — except write!

It’s not just amongst people like me and you. It’s sort of a cultural mythos, the drinking writer guy or whatever. And I bought into it, and you bought into it. I used to joke about being an alcoholic, too, as a musician. I’m in a heavy metal band. I bought into that. But it was all just excuses. So when I removed that sort of liquid filter alcohol provides, the synapses started firing and going, and over time it opened the door on creativity. Now it’s like, I have too many ideas. I have to work consciously to focus and to pick one and go with it. That’s a skill I’m working on. The hardest thing creatively I’ve ever done, by far, is write a book [Dark Days: A Memoir]. 

RK: It’s a big book. 

RB: Yeah. My contract called for 80 to 100,000 words. I was like, “Oh, my God, that’s so much.” At my final draft, I turned in 246,000 words. That was great, but it’s long. So, my editor was like, “Everything’s great. We just have to do some amputation.” Writing a book like that makes writing an album look like going to kindergarten. You’re doing it all yourself. When you do stuff with a band, you’re just one piece of it. There’s also the support you get from your bandmates. Writing that book, some people can drink and write. Some people can also drink and not wreck cars and piss everybody off. I’m not one of those people. It’s like, the creative doors have just come open and I enjoy life so much more. You mentioned something earlier, and this was something that dawned on me. Because when you drink all the time, it’s like your best friend, and it kind of becomes what you do. 

RK: Yes. When you stop, it’s like you just changed careers. 

RB: Yeah, what am I going to do? I came to this realization, after a little bit of being sober. “What am I going to do? What am I gonna do with myself? What am I gonna do?” “Oh yeah, anything I want that I wasn’t doing while I was drinking!”

RK: And then you had to go on tour. How difficult was that for you? You’re sitting idle on the bus. And then you’re sitting on a bus with 15 other people who drink. Then everybody else. Cats in the crowd who are just thrilled to see you. Then they meet you in the parking lot and all they want to do is take a shot with you. And you kind of want to, you kind of want to do that for them, because they’re going to talk about this for however long. Then you don’t want to because you don’t want to compromise what you’re trying to do. 

RB: Yeah, I mean, for real, I got sober on tour. I was surrounded by free alcohol. Free drugs. People who actually want to give me drugs. “Yeah, here, have some!” Because they want a story, as you said. But I came to the conclusion, pretty quickly, that I can’t worry about other people’s stories. My story is going to come to a swift end if I don’t absolutely stop. So getting sober on tour, for me, was just the way it was supposed to happen. Because I would always think, “You know, I’m going to come home and I’m really going to get sober this time. I’m not going to fuck around. I’m really going to take it seriously when I get home later. Now, when I get home, it’s gonna get real.” And it just happened to happen on tour, when I was like, “I can’t do this anymore.”

And I’m pretty grateful that I got sober on tour, because I know plenty of touring musicians who are sober, who didn’t get sober on tour. And a lot of them underwent massive, massive anxiety about going back on tour. You know, they’re like, “Holy fuck. How am I gonna do this?” Then you go out to the wild, and it’s all kind of stripped away. I always enjoy doing things the brutal way. I’m a knucklehead. So I’m grateful, because I’m like, “Okay, well, fuck, I got sober on a heavy metal tour. I can do that. I can stay sober. I can do that.” 

RK: Richmond is a drinking town. You’d be getting off a drinking bus to go to a drinking town, but already have your sea legs, in a way. 

RB: Yeah. It’s like, I just did this impossible shit. So, coming home… I mean, I don’t hang out in bars unless there’s a band playing. I’m not scared to go into a bar. Obviously, we’re sitting here. You know, if I want a drink, I can go downstairs and get one, right fucking now. I do not want one. I don’t miss it at all. Particularly earlier on, I would question myself at times, like, “Are you really okay?” Because I didn’t want to drink. And I’m like, “Are you really feeling okay? Are you lying to yourself just like you lied to yourself about not being an alcoholic for years and years and years?” My perspective was so fucked. 

RK: Do you think that was like the alcoholism Good Cop/Bad Cop?

RB: I mean, that doesn’t really happen anymore. It’s been 10 years. I obviously know that I’m fine without it. But I think it was just such a weird, radical change in my pattern of existence. Because you know, at the end, I had to drink in the morning before I could eat. I’d have to at least put a beer in me before I could keep any food down. I couldn’t see. 

RK: I never got the DTs or had it to where I had to have something in the morning to be able to function. I’ve had friends that had to crush a bunch of vodka in order to do anything; I never got there. But I was ruining my life.

RB: I could function. I just couldn’t eat without putting some alcohol in me. 

RK: I didn’t eat. I never ate in the morning. I usually didn’t eat until my legs were telling me, “I’m not going up the stairs until you eat.”

RB: You’re empty. You’re done.

RK: I look at old Lamb of God lyrics and they’re different than lyrics now. 

RB: Yeah, I mean, obviously. Hopefully, they’re better [now].

RK: I’m a fan. They’re great. But different than before. It’s like the difference in writing down a bunch of questions and asking you, or just having a conversation. It feels like you’re talking to me, the listener, in a different way. 

RB: I think that’s sort of the process of learning to become a songwriter. Learning how to communicate what you want to say in an effective manner that the listener can take, and it doesn’t feel like an utterly foreign experience or concept for them. I mean, I’m writing the lyrics for me — don’t get me wrong. I don’t write lyrics for fans. We don’t make music for fans. Once you start doing that, then you start getting shaped by external expectations and your art suffers. I write what I feel like writing, and I think the fans respect that as well.

At the same time, learning and growing as a lyricist, and trying to learn how to write so that it’s a bit easier for the listener to take the song and internalize it, and make it their own. That’s what the best songs do. I could write a song about me and you sitting here doing this interview 15 years later. And that’s what it’s about — there’s no doubt about it. “I wrote a song about me and Ryan Kent. We did an interview 15 years later, and this is what happened.” But to someone else who listens to it, it might remind them of a conversation they had with their dead mother or something, and that song becomes precious to them.

Our music is our music. It’s Lamb Of God music. But once it goes out into the world, and people make it their own, it kind of becomes everyone’s music. I think that’s a beautiful thing, because that’s what music has done for me. It’s like the first time I met Milo from the Descendants. I walked up to him, we were playing a gig with them, and I was like, “Milo, I got a question for you.” He’s like, “What’s that?” I was like, “How did you know how to write all those songs about all of my ex-girlfriends?”

Photos by Joey Wharton

The Street Photographer: An Exclusive Q & A with Lamb of God Frontman Randy Blythe

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In the shadow of an empty pedestal on Monument Avenue, the Lamb of God frontman spoke about the chaotic era we’re all living through, and finding peaceful moments to savor amidst the chaos.

Frontman. Author. Visual Storyteller. Philosopher. These are just a few of the words one can use when describing Lamb of God frontman Randy Blythe. Fronting one of the biggest metal bands in the world, you might even be forgiven for making certain assumptions about what an interview with him might be like — because they’d all be wrong. Far from being removed from the chaos of everyday life, Randy is hyper-absorbed into the realities of the moment.

Nowhere is this more apparent than when speaking about his experiences as a street photographer and visual storyteller — two aspects of his work that have been pressed into service over the past seven weeks in his home town of Richmond, Virginia. Even more so since the murder of George Floyd and the start of months long street protests. Yet as every good photographer knows, you cannot capture the emotional depth of the human experience without also being a person of emotional depth and experience yourself. 

RVA Mag caught up with Randy one humid Friday night at the plinth of the now removed Confederate statue of JEB Stuart on Richmond’s Monument Ave. Covered in movement messages, this spot has become a favorite for the city’s skaters and BMX riders. Only a few weeks earlier, the city’s skaters led a march called “Skate in Solidarity” in support of Black Lives Matter; this event saw hundreds of skaters leave Texas Beach, a local skatepark, and descend on the former Confederate statue. True to his skating roots, Randy was also behind the lens for this demonstration before the evening ended with a confrontation between the police and protesters. Even in these kinetic environments, Randy is quick to observe that the quiet moments of humanity amongst the chaos oftentimes make for the most impactful images and social documentation. 

RVA Mag: I think we can start this pretty simply: You’re in one of the biggest metal bands in the world, but you’re also a visual storyteller, so what story are you telling in 2020?

Randy: A rather chaotic one. 2020 has had many stories to tell, starting with the Coronavirus pandemic. This was the beginning of the black ball of chaos that is now rolling down hill. I’ve been out a lot at night in Richmond, shooting — particularly downtown and in The Fan — completely by myself, and the city was utterly empty. People were obviously here, but inside, particularly at night. The streets were really eerie. Then shooting during the day, the few human portraits I would get to make were interesting because they were withdrawn. Because nobody knew what the fuck was going on. 

RVA Mag: I don’t think that confusion has abated any. 

Randy: So that led into the story of the economic impact [of COVID]. I was shooting a lot of shuttered businesses and empty shopping districts. And then the George Floyd protests occurred, and I went out and shot the first night of that. Since then I have gone out and been doing what I always do, which is head out into the city streets and shoot what they provide — what attracts my eye. Obviously there have been a lot of tense moments lately to capture. 

RVA Mag: There is a lot of raw human emotion right now. 

Randy: Yes, and a whole lot of people capturing that. There are a lot of photographers. I think consciously what I am now looking for is the quiet moments you can find in the middle of all that chaos. Those are harder to find. 

RVA Mag: You were outspoken in advocating for healthcare workers on the frontline of COVID, but as a city we moved quite rapidly from COVID to the street protests. Was there a nexus between these two things for you? 

Randy: First of all, there is no way to make the on-video murder of George Floyd any less abominable. That’s obviously not the only time police have killed people, it was just the latest one caught on video. So this is not to diminish that atrocity, but by the time that happened people were primed: They had been under lockdown, they don’t know what’s going on, there is so much disinformation in the media — on both sides — which is horrific. There is the economic fallout, everyone is wondering what and the hell is going on. Everyone has been in a really tense place. So when this happened — to use a trite analogy — it was a perfect storm. 

RVA Mag: Let me build on that a bit: You have a global career, touring all over the world, but you always come back to Richmond. What’s it like to come back here and see this on your city streets? 

Randy: I’m careful in how I answer questions like this. Because I have seen this before. We were in Thailand during the Redshirt Revolt. When we landed, there were 100,000 people camped out in downtown Bangkok. Right before we go on stage, there is an announcement made that the government just declared martial law and that anyone not home within an hour will be going to prison. We’d not even played our set yet. They announced that and the Thai people [at the show] were like, “Fuck you, we’re staying.”  

RVA Mag: Wait, so you played a show in Bangkok while the city was under martial law? 

Randy: Absolutely, 100 percent. 

RVA Mag: Ok, this is rock n’ roll lore now. Did the authorities try and stop you from performing? 

Randy: No, they were busy massing downtown. There were 100,000 people in downtown Bangkok — protesters — all wearing red. I still have a red protest bandana. We got off stage and I went down there. Everyone was super cool with us, but everyone was strapping on homemade armor and then there was this massive, massive riot. I wound up back at the hotel, but later that night the protesters took over a police station and stole hundreds of automatic weapons. 37 people died that night, including three or four journalists. The next day, right after we took off, they closed the airport. And that’s just one story. I’ve seen stuff like this on an even larger scale. 

So for me, seeing it here is very, very odd. Seeing tear gas being popped off on Monument Ave is fucking crazy. Things here have remained more tumultuous for longer because of where we’re sitting [across from the removed statue of JEB Stuart]. We’ve reached this boiling point, but it’s always kind of been here in Richmond. We’re a majority black city, people need to understand that. I can’t speak for a single black person, but most of them don’t appreciate these monuments. 

RVA Mag: The public memory of these men, memorialized in these statues, is ending with this generation. As a thought exercise, everything they stood for and how they were propagandized throughout Virginia and US history ends here and now. Is that special to you as someone from Richmond? 

Randy: It is intense to see. There was a lot of talk about how they were going to be contextualized. Like, put a little plaque there. But unless you are right up on that plaque, the monument itself does not convey that — it still conveys a position of power. It is harder to contextualize something that is built, positioned, and placed so purposefully to convey this one thing. How are you going to put context with that unless you build something equally as large beside it? And no one was talking about that. 

I think they have been contextualized now. You can look at all these monuments, they have been fucking contextualized. 

RVA Mag: We have seen aspects of popular culture respond to this movement very quickly. In terms of being a national touring act in a period of national transition, what role do you see the metal scene playing in pushing the change we’re seeing?

Randy: Well, it’s interesting. We just released our eighth album, Lamb of God — the tenth one we’ve ever recorded [including two released under the name Burn The Priest]. The whole premise is the unsuitability of our current way of life. A lot of the songs seem prescient. The cracks in the system we’re seeing against systemic racism in our society, none of this surprises me. The pandemic doesn’t surprise me. 

RVA Mag: In an American context or individual life context? 

Randy: In a societal context, it was inevitable. Business as usual in America, and here we are. As a heavy metal singer, I had to source N95 masks for physician friends of mine. And I could do that, and I did do that, delivering them to doctors and nurses. The fact that a fucking heavy metal singer can, and a physician can’t, is ludicrous and is evidence that we’re unprepared. So this is not unpredictable.

But make no mistake, young people are leading this right now. Oftentimes I am the oldest dude out here shooting. I am going to turn 50 next year. You have all these young people becoming more educated, while also facing an uncertain economic future. They have the knowledge of the systemic racism, they are putting things together and seeing these things and thinking it is fucked up. Eventually there is going to be a breaking point. 

RVA Mag: There is so much cultural turbulence right now. Is punk and heavy metal music still the music of rebellion, the way it used to be?

Randy: The real shit is. Fuck yeah it is! But in this particular situation, heavy metal and punk rock, like everything else as it grows bigger gets diluted. I would say hip-hop is more the voice of this. Hip-hop gets diluted and commercialized too, it’s pop music in a lot of ways. But I have heard a lot of good hip-hop coming out of Richmond — through RVA Magazine — with great social commentary [holds up his phone to show a stream of Richmond’s JR Da Rapper].  

RVA Mag: Let’s switch to photography. Some of this movement’s photography over the past six weeks has been phenomenal and tells the real story of what is happening on the street. In your opinion, what’s the role of photographers right now capturing a world in transition?

Randy: First of all, I have to give a shout out @eyeneyevisons — Christopher “Puma” Smith. He’s been shooting on film. I’ve not met him yet, but I really dig his work. But for me, as a photographer, I don’t pretend to be 100 percent subjective — I don’t work for Reuters. I document what’s going on. Just as every person in this society has different feelings about what’s going on, each photographer is going to look at things through a different eye. I think it is the responsibility of photographers who are dedicated to their craft — at least for street photographers and social documentarians — it’s the duty and role to go out and see this thing through their own eyes and make pictures for later. The more perspectives we have visually, as a visual record, the better we’ll be able to understand what has happened.

This is history. My take is to try and capture different viewpoints.

RVA Mag: You have an upcoming photo essay in Revolver. With all the images you’ve taken, how do you pick the ones that will be published? 

Randy: It was actually relatively easy. The theme I am looking for is the quieter moments in the middle of the turmoil. Because I have a lot of pictures of that [turmoil], but so does everyone else. For me, it is harder to find the quieter beautiful moments in all of this [shows a picture of two Black children sitting on top of Lee Monument]. I wonder how the kids sitting there will always remember that as a good day. I was thinking how strange it was to remember good times I had at this monument, which was erected in the service of oppression. Then I looked at these two kids sitting up there and they were having a blast. Now I’m wondering, years from now, when they are pushing my age and remember that day — not only how good of a day that was, but also remember why it was such a good day. 

RVA Mag: You said earlier that Richmond is your refuge. What’d you think in the moment when you were capturing images of the police targeting protesters? 

Randy: I think about the really rapid shift in the geographic realities. For years this has been what they call an idyllic place, and now it is an emotionally charged vortex. After seeing this for so many years, it is like a portal has been opened to another dimension. And now it is covered in messages like “fuck cops.” I never would have thought someone could have written that on this statue. Photographs have changed history. A photograph can be that impactful. If you think about the famous photograph of the burning Buddhist monk [Thích Quang Duc, during the Vietnam War] — that photograph changed everything. 

RVA Mag: You have a new album out. What’s the future of touring musicians given the global pandemic? There is a knock-on effect that is going to be felt for sometime. 

Randy: Live shows will come back. This won’t last for fucking ever. I am going to scream if I hear some idiot on TV say “these are unprecedented times.” These are not unprecedented times. Unprecedented means we’ve never had this before; we’ve had the Spanish Flu, we’ve had economic collapse, we’ve even had massive civil unrest on a much larger scale — somehow everyone survived. It is important to document, remember, learn, and take knowledge from these times into the future. Hopefully we’ll emerge from this shitstorm as better people. 

RVA Mag: You’ve touched and seen such a wide cross-section of America through your touring. When you look out into the audience in 2020, are you inspired that we’re going to course-correct and be better than what we’ve been the past four years? 

Randy: I have hope that we will emerge as better people. Politically, I am as optimistic as you can be living in this ludicrous two-party binary system where it is still two old white dudes. I think we need some young people, some more variety. I think we need a woman president, which unfortunately is not going to happen this time around. Everyone, in so many ways, just seems so beaten down by the past four years. People just want to sit and chill without something abominable crazy and fucked up happening every day. 

RVA Mag: On that relatively optimistic note, let me say thank you for such killer conversation.

Some of Randy’s photography can be found right here.

*All photos by Landon Shroder

Lamb Of God Returns

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Richmond metal legends Lamb Of God will release their first new album in five years tomorrow. We caught up with them to find out what it’s like to return to action in midst of a pandemic.

As a new decade has dawned, a new chapter is beginning for Richmond-based, legendary heavy metal band Lamb of God. The release of their self-titled eighth studio album is upon us, and never before has there been a more authentic representation of their presence in the scene. After over a year of work specifically for the album, and 26 years developing their identity and musical strength, Lamb of God has reached a critical mass. This new album encompasses everything the guys have worked so hard to create in their sound with skull shredding riffs and haunting, emboldening rhythms. 

“We’re embracing our veteran status and becoming OG’s in the scene, so to speak, and we’ve got a new drummer so we’re really energized by that. The moral and vibe in the band are up interpersonally,” said Lamb of God guitarist Mark Morton. “It’s at an all time high, and it really felt like a definitive moment for us. 26 years in, we are at one of these benchmarks of our career, and for us, creatively and artistically.”

This benchmark moment has come to mean so much more beyond simply the years put in and the fan base amassed. After five Grammy nominations and numerous other acclaims, what Lamb of God is focused on are their roots and the vast growth of musical talent each member has collaborated to create. This pinnacle of growth was also what led the guys to make the album self-titled.

“It always seemed to feel like it was an uninspired move [to self-title an album], like a bit of a fall back or cop out. This time, it was really quite the opposite,” said Morton. “There were other ideas for titles, and good ones; it’s just, we were waiting for this album and this moment where we really felt like, more than a new album release, this was really a new era for the band.”

The new album is raw. It’s angry. It’s an inspired representation of the aggression so many are feeling at the hands of the system, aggression that has only heightened in the grips of a sweeping pandemic and political unrest. 

“Divide and conquer and close them in, and bury secrets deep. Make America hate again, and bleed the sheep to sleep,” go the lyrics from “Checkmate,” a song that was released as a pre-album single. These lines seem to signify the rhetoric of the current administration, in contrast to the pain felt by Americans everywhere. However, the band’s members aren’t necessarily interested in such a specific interpretation. 

“I’m not one of these people that ever likes to talk about the literal details, inspiration, or meaning behind lyrics,” said Morton. “[Singer] Randy [Blythe] sometimes does, and that’s cool for him, but for me when I write, I don’t like to characterize everything so detailed, because I feel like that robs the listener of how they might relate to it on their own.”

The new album is a family affair, in that it includes participation from fellow members of the family of metal; specifically, Jamey Jasta of Hatebreed and Chuck Billy of Testament. And while a self-titled album is often not the place for featured artists, it’s clear they were more than mere guests on this monumental record. 

“It goes way beyond sharing a stage with them or having gotten to know them over the course of a tour or something like that. Those guys really are close friends and family,” said Morton. “To invite Jamey and Chuck to appear on a couple songs… it was so natural for us.”

During the pandemic, this family has felt the hit of uncertainty. Chuck Billy and his wife Tiffany were both diagnosed with COVID-19, as were a number of Testament’s crew members following the band’s most recent European tour. As issues developed, the guys of Lamb of God kept close tabs on Billy and those affected, and luckily, it wasn’t too long before everyone made full recoveries. 

Due to these and other issues relating to the pandemic, Lamb of God had to postpone the release of their album from May 8th to June 19th. This change was made to ensure there was no extra load placed upon essential mail and delivery workers while they perform much-needed services for transportation of essential goods. 

“Obviously this pandemic is affecting everything, so for me to bemoan how it might impact the sales of my record would seem kinda trivial. A little self-absorbed,” said Morton. “Hopefully, on a more positive vibe, maybe it’ll bring some people some relief, some sort of cathartic joy. It’s a really heavy record — sonically, musically, lyrically — so maybe that’ll resonate with people in such a turbulent and frightening time.”

Photo via Lamb Of God/Facebook

With all of this down time in between recording and releasing the album, and even more between these things and touring, the guys of Lamb of God have been doing what they can to bide their time with purpose. 

“I have, interestingly enough, been playing the guitar more than ever,” said Morton. “As someone who plays guitar professionally, for a living, there are times when I really don’t play guitar for a couple weeks at a time, like I really literally won’t play guitar.” Now that he can’t do it for a living, though, he’s finding new ways to approach his instrument during the downtime.

“One of my favorite guitar solos is in the Steely Dan song ‘Kid Charlemagne,’ and it was real tricky shit to learn,” Morton said. “It was really good for me to be out of my comfort zone, having to work in different shapes and different patterns then I’m used to playing. I realize I sometimes get caught in this trap where every time I pick up a guitar, I feel like it’s gotta be career-motivated. I sort of retapped into this idea that I really, really love playing guitar.”

While we might not get to see these particular influences come forward in Lamb of God’s music, Morton does have a solo project, with both an EP and a full-length album so far, 2019’s Anesthetic, which showcase this classic rock side. 

Regardless of the roadblocks and time passed, the guys in Lamb of God are looking forward to getting their music out there and getting back on the road. Going out and representing Richmond around the world is intrinsic to the band’s mission, and they’ll spread that positivity whenever they can. 

“Honestly, with everything that’s going on, I’ll just be excited to be on stage again and making people smile,” said Morton. “That’s the coolest thing about what I get to do, you know? When we take the stage and I’m glancing out into the crowd for the first time of the night, everybody’s smiling. People are happy at these shows, and it feels good to be a small part of that system. Makes me feel like we’re doing something good.”

Photo via Lamb Of God/Facebook

Lamb of God’s self-titled album is out June 19th on all streaming platforms, and you can get your copy on the band’s website (lamb-of-god.com). The album tour is set to begin in October, but you can keep updated on these events on their website as health guidelines and venue openings progress. Whenever they get out there, it will be well worth the wait.

Top Photo by Travis Shinn

VA’s Can’t-See Shows This Week: March 18 – March 24

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Hey there, folks, it’s that time of the week when we normally let you know all the best goings-on in the live music scene here in Richmond and around the state for the next week! As you may have realized, though, the current COVID-19 outbreak and the many social and legal restrictions placed on large gatherings have almost entirely shut down the live music scene here in Virginia. There may be a few things still going on, but we wouldn’t feel very responsible advocating for you to go see them. What’s a show-loving girl to do?

Well, for this week’s column, I decided to have compassion for those of you who have either joined me in the wonderful world of working at home (welcome to the club — isn’t it fun doing your job in your pajamas?) or, more unfortunately, found yourselves without any work while your place of business is temporarily shut down. I may not be able to send you to any clubs to see awesome bands light up your evening with their killer sounds… but I can offer you ten great performances by Richmond bands, all available for your viewing pleasure right here on the internet. You can space them out one (or two) per day as with the usual column, or binge them all tonight — the choice is yours! Crank the volume on your headphones for this one.

Lamb Of God at Hellfest Open Air, Clisson, France, June 23, 2019

We’ll start with what we all certainly hope is a preview of coming attractions — a full set by Lamb Of God, complete with multiple cameras and top-quality audio. Richmond’s veteran metal faves are planning as of now to release their latest LP, Lamb Of God, on May 8, and follow it up with a full US tour, featuring June dates at Jiffy Lube Live in NoVA and Veterans United Amphitheater in Virginia Beach. Will all that still happen in light of COVID-19? We can hope… and in the meantime, we can take comfort in this one-hour preview of what Lamb Of God’s latest lineup, now featuring former Prong drummer Art Cruz in place of retiring OG Chris Adler, has in store for us.

Division Of Mind at FYA Fest, Tampa, Florida, Jan 5, 2020

Taking things to a bit more of an underground level, here we have a room-destroying performance by Richmond hardcore ragers Division Of Mind, at Florida’s FYA Fest back at the beginning of this year. Guttural vocals, chugging guitars, brutal breakdowns, and an equally brutal mosh pit are what this video is all about. Better yet, despite the circumstances, it still features multiple camera angles and a great sound mix. Division Of Mind don’t have a social media presence (right on, I wish I didn’t), so I don’t know what’s up with them at this moment, but I’m sure they’d appreciate you grabbing a copy of their recent self-titled LP on Triple B Records if you haven’t already.

No BS! Brass Band at The Broadberry, April 17, 2014

Let’s take things in a more upbeat direction, shall we? This six-year-old live performance by No BS! Brass Band isn’t the most recent live footage online by this group, but there’s no substitute for seeing this Richmond favorite right here at home. And since at this moment, we have no way of knowing whether their gig planned for April 3 at The Broadberry is still going to happen or not, we may as well enjoy their music from home right now. Push the coffee table back and dance, y’all. And consider buying some merch from them, if you have the scratch — they will really appreciate the support. (Needless to say, that goes for all the bands on this list.)

Avail at House Of Independents, Asbury Park, New Jersey, September 5, 2019

Did you miss all the Avail reunion sets last year? Don’t worry, you’re not alone. And if you’re not planning to head to Punk Rock Bowling or Furnace Fest later this year, you might especially appreciate this audience recording of their set in Asbury Park last summer. This is one of the few videos I’ve picked that doesn’t have pro audio, so the sound isn’t perfect, but what is perfect is that evocation of what it felt like to be crammed up against the stage (always my favorite spot), singing along and avoiding the moshers… and the sweat flying off Beau Beau’s head. We can’t be there now, but it’s a lovely reminder.

Nickelus F and Ohbliv at Brewer’s Cafe, November 27, 2019

Want to chill with some fine hip hop? Check this Brewer’s Cafe session from last fall, featuring two of Richmond hip hop’s leading lights of the 21st century. Nickelus F is on the mic, spitting some of the best rhymes you’ll find anywhere in the world, while Ohbliv keeps the beats flowing on the decks. They’re behind the Brewer’s counter, and they aren’t serving up any hot drinks, but Brewer’s Cafe is still open for carryout and delivery today, and both Sweet Petey and Ohbliv have plenty of great tunes available over on Bandcamp for your listening pleasure (links above). They’d all appreciate your business during this trying time, I can assure you.

Palm Palm at River City Roll, September 1, 2019

If you know how awesome J. Roddy Walston & The Business were as a live act, you really need to catch Palm Palm, Walston’s new band with members of The Trillions, The Southern Belles, and the Milkstains. These folks had the misfortune of having their spring tour fall apart while they were on it earlier this month; they had to skip the last half of their dates and head home because all the other shows were cancelled. Fortunately for us, their set from last summer at River City Roll is online in its entirety, featuring high-quality audio and a very active single camera capturing the event from all kinds of angles. If you dig this, hit up Palm Palm online to support them by buying a t-shirt. After losing quite a few tour dates, they sure could use the help.

Windhand at Elsewhere, Brooklyn, NY, November 2, 2018

Windhand is another Richmond band who had a tour fall apart on them this month; indeed, this very night, they were supposed to be in Harrisonburg playing The Golden Pony. Now that show, and the rest of their March tour dates, are cancelled, and the only place we can see them is on YouTube. Luckily for us, this incredible live performance was captured by Revolver Magazine in high-quality audio by multiple cameras back in 2018, and we can enjoy it to our heart’s content now. With their tour having been cancelled, Windhand have been selling leftover tour merch on their BigCartel page — go grab some records and t-shirts if you’ve got the scratch.

.gif From God at Wonderland, July 5, 2019

Here’s what will doubtless be the messiest live video you’ll see this week — .gif From God laying waste to Wonderland last summer, in their inimitable fashion. This video is washed out and chaotic, full of flying hair and overdriven guitar chugs, and if you don’t know these songs going in, you might at times struggle to make out what’s going on. But that’s what .gif From God are all about, and if you ask me, it’s part of their charm — a delightful wall of chaos. No word as yet on the status of .gif From God’s April tour, but if you don’t have a copy of their latest LP, approximation_of_a_human, now is absolutely the time to get one. And if you do, you should donate to their Richmond Reproductive Freedom Project fundraising team — a good cause is still a good cause, even during a quarantine.

Bio Ritmo at Rio Loco Festival, Toulouse, France, June 19, 2015

And now for something completely different — a high-energy salsa infusion from long-running local band/party machine Bio Ritmo. This was filmed several years ago and far from home, but don’t get it twisted — this impeccably-documented performance is still muy caliente and well worth your time. Bio Ritmo haven’t performed locally since back around Christmas and don’t have anything in particular coming up, so why not stock up on their impressive back catalog over at their Bandcamp? Guaranteed to heat up your living room even if your space heater’s broken.

Good Day RVA Live Sessions Playlist, feat. Benjamin Shepherd, McKinley Dixon and Friends, Sports Bar, Doll Baby, The Wimps, Spooky Cool, Antiphons, Dumb Waiter, Clair Morgan aka New Lions, Dave Watkins, Lobo Marino, Navi, The Trillions, Andrew Alli & Josh Small, White Laces, Nelly Kate, Houdan The Mystic, Black Girls aka Rikki Shay

Who’s up for a lightning round? Good Day RVA have got the mother of all live sessions for you here with a mega-playlist featuring all of the sessions they’ve filmed over their entire career, which has been going on for… damn near 10 years now. Wow, time flies, huh? These videos feature a who’s who of Richmond’s best musicians, captured at various evocative sites around Richmond and ensuring that the city itself is just as much of their videos as the excellent bands involved. Maybe you’ve missed some of these over the years and need a reminder, or maybe you saw them all when they came out and would just enjoy a playlist full of great Richmond sights and sounds with which to warm your heart while you’re stuck in the house. Either way, this will go down smooth and warm your heart and soul. Guaranteed.

Must-See Shows will be back next week. Whether we return with actual live shows around town, or more video picks to get us through another week of quarantine, only time will tell… but I’m not getting my hopes up. See you then!

Westboro Baptist Church’s Protest at VCU Was Vastly Outnumbered By LGBTQ Counter-Protesters

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The notorious anti-LGBTQ hate group were met with widespread derision during their protest at VCU on Monday.

At VCU Monday, students, metalheads, and the general public came out in support of the LGBTQ community to counter-protest the Westboro Baptist Church’s visit to campus. Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) were in town to protest against the existence and political power of Delegate Danica Roem, the first transgender person elected to state-level political office in the United States.

Even before the protest took place, it had already resulted in unintended consequences for WBC. Their attacks against Danica Roem, who represents the 13th District in Virginia’s House Of Delegates, helped strengthen Roem’s campaign for re-election in November. Roem reported in a tweet Monday night that she was able to raise over $36,000 for her re-election campaign through her #WestboroBackfire online protest.

Police presence was large, and included two police officers on horseback. Over one hundred counter-protesters were present as well; some dressed in wigs, others dressed in pride flags, and one person even played a guitar. Members of local metal band Lamb Of God brought kazoos and other plastic instruments, intent on drowning out the WBC members who’d shown up.

Advance press for the event had focused on the fact that Lamb Of God vocalist Randy Blythe was encouraging fans to come out and denounce the WBC, but the bigger story was how many representatives of the VCU and RVA LGBTQ communities were on the scene. The gathering felt like a small Pride festival in itself, as counter-protesters chanted slogans like “Jesus was a bottom!” and “We’re here, we’re queer, nobody wants you here.”

Some counter-protesters voiced their problems with VCU’s reaction to advance notification of the WBC visit. Lily Hamilton of VCU’s Queer Action created a solidarity space away from the initial counterprotest, in which she critiqued both Westboro Baptist Church and VCU’s lack of transparency with the student body. She cited incidences in which VCU said WBC would have a spot reserved for them on campus, then later withdrew the statement.

Counter-protesters. Photo by Sage Cannady

VCU policy does allow for political groups, regardless of message, to reserve a space on campus to promote their agenda. The group may reserve space as little as five days in advance.

No violence occurred at the protest, though some protesters made loud use of profane language. However, the police presence was clearly intended to protect the WBC, who were highly outnumbered.

Plenty of media were on the scene to cover the story. However, most focused on the WBC themselves, giving them a great deal more interview coverage than the counter-protesters. Nonetheless, there was a strong sense of community among the counter-protesters.

“It was really heartwarming to feel the support of the counter-protesters,” said Anthony Belotti. “We outnumbered them by so much. It definitely reminded me that Richmond is my home.”

Written by Sage Canady and Marilyn Drew Necci. Photos by Alexandra Zernik, Capital News Service, unless otherwise noted.

Burning The Priest Again: Lamb Of God Resurrects Original Name For New Covers Album

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The name Burn The Priest might not be all that familiar to the denizens of today’s local music scene. After all, it’s been nearly 20 years since the band changed their name to Lamb Of God, and their fame has grown by leaps and bounds since. But if you were paying attention to the underground world of heavy music in Richmond in the 90s, you knew Burn The Priest was essential listening long before they changed their name.

Now, for the first time in two decades, Lamb Of God has returned to their original name for Legion: XX, an album of covers released last week on their longtime label, Epic Records. The album’s name seems to refer to Legion Records, the label that released Burn The Priest’s only previous LP in 1999 — 20 years before Legion: XX‘s release. But why return to the name Burn The Priest at all?

“The idea of doing some covers has been in our head since we were Burn The Priest,” vocalist Randy Blythe told me when I caught up with him. “But I think the main reason why we wanted to call it Burn The Priest is just because a lot of this stuff was music we were listening to when we formed the band.”

Blythe makes clear that to the members, the band is the band, regardless of which name they use. “Burn The Priest never broke up,” he said. “To us, there’s really no separation. We’re the same dudes, so we’re like, ‘Whatever, killer. This is music we were listening to at that time, so we’ll use our other name.'”

If you’re just thinking of Lamb Of God — er, Burn The Priest — as a metal band, the selection of songs they chose to record for Legion: XX might be a little surprising. The track listing is a mix of 80s hardcore classics and early 90s alternative rock touchstones, but doesn’t really feature any metal tracks — the closest is probably their cover of SOD’s “Kill Yourself.”

To Blythe, this makes perfect sense. “All of the music we covered is an offshoot in one way or the other of the punk rock scene,” he said. The members of Burn The Priest never expected to find themselves where they are today — a veteran metal band often given credit for helping start the New Wave Of American Heavy Metal movement. “When we started the band, we were never like, ‘Oh, we’re gonna go on to tour with Metallica, and go around the world!’ or whatever,” Blythe said. “We just wanted to be able to play with Sliang Laos or Kepone at Twisters.”

Twisters is now known as Strange Matter, and Kepone — the 90s-era project of GWAR’s Michael Bishop and celebrated local artist Ed Trask — has played a series of rapturously received reunions over the past five years or so. But Sliang Laos, a Richmond band active in the early 90s who became a crucial influence on Burn The Priest’s early sound, is all but forgotten today.

On Legion: XX, Burn The Priest does their best to change that, covering Sliang Laos track “Axis Rot.” “It was the cover we probably altered the least,” Blythe said. “It’s such a brilliant tune, so we wanted to do a faithful version of it, and hopefully expose that music to a wider audience.”

The Burn The Priest version of “Axis Rot” will actually be the first to see the light of day, even before the original. “We have the Sliang Laos album, and I’m sure other people in Richmond have it, but that song was never released,” Blythe said. Indeed, he and the rest of Burn The Priest hope that by covering the song, they can change that. “My dream is to find some… it doesn’t have to be a big record label, but maybe a medium-sized or small record label, and get someone to put out the Sliang Laos record. I’ve had it for years and it never came out, and I think that music needs to be heard. So if anyone reading this wants to put out the Sliang Laos record, hit me up!”

The Sliang Laos cover recently gave Blythe and the band the opportunity to reunite with Sliang Laos vocalist Andrew Siegler, who came to see Lamb Of God twice on their recent tour. “I hadn’t seen him… oh god, in like, 20 years or something,” Blythe said. “He was such a big influence on me as a frontman. A lot of the weird creepy shit you see me doing directly comes from him. And we opened with a song called ‘Omerta’ [from 2004’s Ashes Of The Wake], and there’s parts in that song that are directly Sliang Laos ripoffs, even in the guitar style. All of us used to go see Sliang Laos, and that certainly filtered into our music, so it was cool that night to open up with that song.”

Backstage, the band played Siegler their cover version. “He really dug it,” Blythe said. “Me and Mark both really wanted to do that song. It was us showing respect to Richmond as well, because there’s so many great musicians, particularly around that time, in Richmond.”

The band’s influences from beyond Richmond are reflected in the covers chosen for Legion: XX as well. Blythe has never hidden his huge love for DC hardcore pioneers Bad Brains, and it shows in Burn The Priest’s cover of “I Against I.” “They’re my favorite band of all time, and they’re friends of mine. It was really important for me to get that one on there,” Blythe said. “We’ve been talking about covering [that song], maybe since we were Burn The Priest? I remember, clearly, sitting in a truck with Mark up in the mountains — we were all up there camping — and listening to the song ‘I Against I,’ and I was singing along with it. He was like, ‘Damn, you can sing that, we should actually cover it.'”

But Blythe wasn’t the only one picking songs for the album, and at least one of the choices threw him for a loop. “I came to the studio one day, and they were like, ‘We recorded “Jesus Built My Hot Rod” by Ministry,’ and I was like, ‘You did? Really?'”

Blythe is a Ministry fan, but “Jesus Built My Hot Rod” is not the song he would have picked. “I would have chosen something off of Land of Rape and Honey, or The Mind Is a Terrible Thing To Taste — something a little bit more abrasive and political,” he said. “I was really reticent about it. Because — with all due respect to [Ministry leader] Al Jourgensen, I think he would agree — that’s a really silly song.”

The original version of the song mingles samples from drag racing footage and the 1979 film Wise Blood with vocals contributed by Butthole Surfers singer Gibby Haynes. “It’s nonsense. [Haynes] showed up at the studio drunk as shit, sat there and mumbled into the mic for a couple of hours, and Al Jourgensen spent two or three weeks editing tape to make the song,” Blythe explained. “So when they first told me they had done that song, I was like, ‘I don’t know about that. That sounds like a bad idea.'” He laughed. “And then I started recording the vocals for it, and it was just so much fun, it was ridiculous.”

Rather than re-using the samples on the original version, the members of the band recreated them in the studio themselves. “That’s one really cool thing about that song, is that it’s the only song in our band’s existence that has all five members of the band with a vocal part on it,” Blythe said.

The process of picking the album’s 10 songs also involved the entire band. “That was kind of the whole point of doing the whole thing, was for us to have some fun,” said Blythe. “Because there’s a lot less pressure when you’re doing covers. You already know the song is good.” He laughed. “It’s not like you have to write it and then question yourself.”

The album spans a good deal of territory, none of it predictable — but “Kerosene” might be the least predictable choice of all. It was originally recorded by producer Steve Albini’s 80s-era band, Big Black — a drum-machine fueled group with very little obvious resemblance to Lamb Of God, or for that matter, Burn The Priest.

But to Blythe, Big Black is an important piece of what made them the band they are today. “They’re just super cerebral. Really smart punk rock,” he said of Big Black. “They were the first band that showed me punk rock could be not just angry, but super smart at the same time.”

Blythe’s a pretty smart cookie himself; he’s shown himself to be a talented writer with his bestselling 2015 memoir, Dark Days. At one point during our conversation, I remind him of a much earlier writing effort — his mid-90s zine, Cruentus Odium, in which he was billed as “Randy Hatred.” While he chuckled embarrassedly at the mention that I’d seen his pre-Burn The Priest band, Furious George, he was not at all upset to think of Cruentus Odium. “Issue number four is in the VCU Zine Library, so if anybody wants to go check it out…” he said.

I mentioned that I traded him my very first zine, Nothing Is Cool, for a copy of Cruentus Odium at a show in 1995. “I think I remember it,” he said. “I probably still have it. I have a box of zines from those days.” I admitted that it wasn’t very good — an 18-year-old’s first stab at music journalism, writing about Lollapalooza and such. “That’s still the greatest thing about fanzines,” he said. “I miss that time.”

Blythe is still involved in solo creative endeavors, but these days, he’s focusing mainly on photography. “I’ve been shooting for about seven years now,” he said. “I just had an exhibit in the National Gallery of the Cayman Islands, and I have an exhibit coming up in the fall in New England.” Which raises an obvious question — when will he have an exhibit in Richmond? “Nobody has asked me!” he said, laughing. “People are like when are you going to exhibit in Richmond? And I’m like, when a gallery contacts me! I’m not gonna walk down Broad Street waving my pictures around, saying ‘Look at this!'”

The new Burn The Priest album, Legion: XX is available for purchase in vinyl, cassette, and CD formats from the band’s website. Check out Randy Blythe’s photography — and hit him up if you’re interested in putting out the Sliang Laos album or giving him a gallery show in Richmond — at his website, randyblythe.net, or on Instagram at @drandallblythe.

Photo By: Travis Shinn

 

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