Lamb of God's D. Randall Blythe

Lamb of God's D. Randall Blythe

By Brad Warner
Jun 25, 2008

Lamb of God are very metal. Formed in Richmond, Virginia in 1994 as Burn The Priest, the band quickly became one of the hottest bands on the heavy metal scene. With a name change to Lamb Of God, they signed to Epic Records and went on to conquer the hard rock world. D. Randall Blythe, the band’s lead vocalist, has one of the gnarliest sets of pipes in the business, sounding like a grizzly bear gargling razor blades.

But Lamb of God is a band that openly defies metal’s inherent limitations and refuses to be boxed in. Take their name — you’d think Lamb of God must be the name of a tame and well-groomed Christian rock outfit. And the contradictions don’t end there; consider where I met Randy for this interview — a three-day intensive meditation retreat I led at the Southern Dharma Retreat Center near Asheville, North Carolina. But contradictions like this are what continue to make Lamb of God one of the most interesting and relevant bands around today. Their new DVD, Walk With Me in Hell, promises to be the band’s most molten piece of work yet.

When I first listened to the song “Walk With Me in Hell,” I was really surprised. It sounds like a real hard assed title. But the lyrics are actually a powerfully kind and positive message. Like, "This might be Hell, but I'm right here with you." It almost made me tear up a little. So sit back and enjoy some more contradictions with the king of metal throat shredding, Mr. D. Randall Blythe.

Brad Warner: Tell me the history of Lamb of God.
Randy Blythe: Basically, I was never supposed to be in a metal band. I grew up listening to a lot of punk rock. Starting out with the Sex Pistols, Slaughter and the Dogs, all the English punk rock bands. I was real snotty. I didn’t consider it punk if it wasn’t British. Then I got over that and got into Bad Brains and Black Flag, and the crossover stuff like Corrosion of Conformity. I always wanted to be in a band but I have no talent. Hence I was a singer. I was in college and I was in this really fucked up band with this guy Abe called Stink Hogan.
BW:
What, like Hulk Hogan?
RB:
A Stink Hogan is anything bad. It’d be like a turd on your floor. That’s a Stink Hogan. Much like us. The drummer wanted to be in the Smashing Pumpkins. I wanted to be in the Bad Brains. The bass player, he wanted to be like Mingus. And the guitar player wanted to be Hendrix. It was a train wreck. Later on he joined Burn The Priest, and said, “You should sing for my band.” I was out riding freight trains across the country so I said, “Maybe when I get back.” I got back in the winter of ’94, tried out with him and it’s been down hill ever since.
BW:
So how long before you got a record out?
RB:
We were called Burn The Priest up until ’99, playing in Philly in a lot of warehouse punk rock shows and stuff. A friend of mine started up a label to put out our first seven inch. Then this band Brutal Truth put out our second seven inch. Then the guy who’d put out our first seven inch went into debt, maxed out his credit card and put out our first CD.
BW:
So it was an indie release, then.
RB:
Yes. Totally indie. We did some tours that we booked ourselves. Played at every vegan, lesbian, anarchist collective ever invented a few times. Came home broke. We started getting a real grass roots following on the East coast. Then Prosthetic Records picked us up as Burn The Priest. We said, “We’re changing our name to Lamb Of God.” They said, “Don’t do it.” We said, “Fuck you we’re doing it.”
BW:
Yeah I wanted to ask about that. Cuz when I told people I was interviewing someone from Lamb of God a lot of people asked why I was interested in a Christian rock band.
RB:
It’s just a name. The name Burn The Priest is obvious. Our guitar player was like 23 when he came up with that.
BW:
It sounds like that Norwegian Black Metal stuff where they burn down the churches.
RB:
Exactly! And we kinda got confused with that. People thought we were Satanic. But we were like, no we don’t really believe in the Devil. Our stuff was more political. We got tired of that and decided to something a little bit more ambiguous. And Lamb of God…
BW:
It is ambiguous. But obviously spirituality has some kind of role in what you guys do. We’re here doing this interview right now at a Zen retreat. So without turning this into a big advertisement for Buddhism, I wanted to ask you about how that fits together for you?
RB:
It’s not very metal is it? But, number one, I don’t think I’d really call myself a Buddhist.
BW:
Yeah, I have a hard time doing that too and I’m a fuckin’ monk!
RB:
I would say I practice it. I sit Zazen twice daily for 30 minutes. I’ve always been interested in spirituality in different forms. Even in our music. We’re called Lamb of God, for fuck’s sake. There’s a lot of Biblical metaphors and stuff. That’s traditional in heavy metal. Like Black Sabbath and that kind of stuff. I’ve been interested in spirituality since I was a kid. But I’m not really into organized religion. I was always kind of interested in the aesthetic aspects of Buddhism. All the Hindu gods and the Tibetan Buddhist stuff drew me in aesthetically. Then I started researching it a little more and started reading about Zen. That just sorta made sense to me. Then I got your book, Hardcore Zen — plug! As a fellow punk rock freak, I relate.
BW:
It is a little weird lately this whole thing with punk and Buddhism…
RB:
Dharma punx and all that.
BW:
Yeah. When I wrote my first book I honestly thought there was no audience at all for this approach — Buddhism mixed with punk rock. It’s strange to me to see so much of it happening. Do you think there is any convergence between what you’re doing and Zen?
RB:
Personally, I’m at a point in my life where I’ve been through a lot of bad, bad things. And I suppose everybody searches in different ways. I used to drink a whole lot, do drugs and so forth. I’ve since sobered up. Knock on wood! And the Zen aspect appeals to me because it’s about facing reality without a clouded mind.
BW:
What kind of bad things? I’m curious about that and about how it’s reflected in your music.
RB:
Well, a lot of tumultuous things that everyone goes through — i.e., shitty relationships, bouts of pretty intense alcoholism, economic problems etc. With me, the shitty everyday aspects of life seemed to get intensified — some people would be "broke," and I would be full on homeless. Several friends dead from drugs and/or depression. A fair amount of violence, some of it my fault, some of it not. I had my ass handed to me pretty hard by the cops on occasion. I wrote one song about that on our first record, "O.D.H.G.A.B.F.E." (Officer Dick Head Gets A Black Fucking Eye). I had my daughter die very shortly after birth, and that fucked my head up pretty good. I by no means am saying that I have had the hardest life ever. I personally know people who have had it a lot worse than me, but I have seen some fucked up shit in my 37 years, and that pours into the lyrics. I can’t hide from reality. Now I am just trying to find the good parts of existence as well.
BW:
Does that relate at all to your music?
RB:
Well, metal is different now. I’m not in Iron Maiden, I’m not in Judas Priest. I’m a punk rock kid in a metal band. A lot of bands are like that. I was hanging out with my friend Paul from Shadows Fall the other day and he’d read your book, too. He’s in a metal band. People pick it up and it’s organized enough to follow but disorganized enough for the freaks to relate.
BW:
You talked about being sober. What made you decide to give up drugs and alcohol and when? In your video Terror And Hubris you described the band as a bunch of rednecks from Virginia who drink too much.
RB:
We still are a bunch of rednecks who like to drink too much! Some of us are just not doing it right now. Most of us in the band have taken breaks from boozing at one time or the other. The old liver will revolt if we don't. The drinking was making me depressed and clouding my mind to the point where any sense of balance was lost. All I could do was get fucked up, and I hated it, but couldn't really see any way to stop feeling bad except to drink, which just made me feel worse in the long run. I’m not bold enough to say I will never drink again — empirical statements like that tend to bite you on the ass. But I am at a point where I am not drinking and enjoying sobriety — for the most part [laughs]. So why not roll with that for a while?
BW:
But you don’t identify yourself as straightedge. Back in the day, I was kind of annoyed by the direction that straightedge went. It wasn’t just a personal thing. It was like let’s go beat up everyone who isn’t straightedge.
RB:
I have straightedge friends. One of them is taping this interview right now! But I think anybody that takes anything and makes it dogmatic and militant loses the point. When they don’t accept the possibility of anything outside the realm of their own experience, then their minds and their eyes are closed. I have straightedge friends that aren’t preachy. But there are straightedgers who are assholes.
BW:
You have a song called “Redneck” that seems like it’s aimed at the kind of people you grew up with in Virginia. It’s pretty critical of a certain type of person. I can relate to that because I grew up in rural Ohio, which is probably similar. Now that’s your audience, how do they relate to that song?
RB:
That’s an interesting way to frame that question. The title "Redneck" has nothing to do with the lyrics, which my guitar player Mark wrote. It was just a working title that stuck. I grew up in rural Virginia though, and did catch unholy hell from all the rednecks in the area for being a freak. That kinda stuff doesn't happen as much anymore because "punk rock" has gotten so commodified that you can go buy your "punker dude/chick" outfit, complete with spikes and hair dye, at any fucking mall with a Hot Topic. It’s not dangerous to look like a freak anymore, and I think the element of intellectual rebellion went away with the threat of getting your ass beat. Damn, I sound like a bitter old man — "Ah, the glory days, when Nazi skins would kick in your teeth...". I guess it’s just hard for me to relate to most "Punk Rockers" today. It was different 20 years ago when I got into it. As far as rednecks in the audience, yup, they are there. But even as a "Punk Rock" dude, I am from The South, so I do have to embrace my Inner Redneck at times [laughs].
BW:
I wanted to ask you about your following and about fame in general. Cuz I saw you at Ozzfest and you played to 50,000 people or something. A whole sea of people. I don’t know the headcount. And there was a time when anyone who could play a show to that many people couldn’t walk down the street without being mobbed. Yet outside the metal genre you’re relatively unknown. You can still be anonymous. So you’re famous…
RB:
…among freaks!
BW:
Yeah. But do you get stopped on the street and stuff?
RB:
All the time. We are everywhere. It happens daily even at home now. It’s kind of annoying cuz home is where I just want to be a regular dude. In some ways the Internet is a wonderful thing. Music is so accessible to download. There’s all these weird little sub genres and different scenes. But since there are all these scenes, they want to categorize everything. And if you change your sound somewhat… There are people who are very unhappy with us because we’ve progressed as players since our first album. They’re like, “You sold out, you learned to play your guitar. We like the first record best.” Well, listen to the first record, then. You can’t satisfy everyone.
BW:
You gotta progress.
RB:
I remember the feeding frenzy that happened after Nirvana got big. All these bands who said they’d never sell out and then they signed to a major label two days later. And generally sucked. If you make some dogmatic statement like that you have to live that down. Cuz you made that statement. But if you’re just like, “Dude I’m in a band,” then you can do whatever you want. If your music sucks I just won’t listen to it.
BW:
So how has Lamb of God changed since its inception?
RB:
I wouldn’t say I learned to sing better. But I learned a few different pitches of screaming. I can hold them longer. Our guitar players and our drummer have all become better technically over the years because we practice six days a week. Just as human beings we’ve matured, I would hope.
BW:
You haven’t mellowed out, have you?
RB:
No! There is no mellowing out. There’s too much to be angry about.
BW:
So you’re off right now? You’re taking a break?
RB:
I wouldn’t say that. Lamb Of God is not touring for a year and a half. But we are writing a new record and we have a DVD coming out soon. I have two other bands. One is a sludgy band called Halo Of Locusts, from Richmond. We’re doing some recording and touring. I’ve got a recording project with Steve Zing from Samhain. I’m trying to write a comic book. I got a part in a horror movie. It’s called The Graves. It’s being directed by a guy named Brian Pulido. He’s a comic book writer. It takes place in this town out in the desert in Arizona and there’s something evil there that makes the citizens do bad things to strangers. Kind of like Deliverance in the desert. But with Satan or something. I get to stab a girl, choke a girl, and then another girl impales me. Pretty gritty stuff.
BW:
How does the rest of the band react to the Zen thing?
RB:
I told them I was gonna go do this retreat. I read. I sit (Zazen) on tour when I can find a quiet enough space to do it. It’s impossible to sit on the tour bus. You’re moving around too much and you just fall off the cushion. I’ve tried. But I don’t really talk to the band about it. I told them about the retreat. They probably think, “Oh he’s just gonna go up and sit around for a while.” It’s kinda my deal. But that’s kinda the way it is when you’re in a band. I’m the black sheep.
BW:
It’s always like that. It’s been funny to see the other guys in Zero Defex getting interested in it. I’m not sure what to say to them. Cuz they were my friends from when I was 18. I wanted to ask about touring, though, how is that as a way of life?
RB:
You’re either meant to tour or you aren’t. It takes a certain personality type to be willing to put up with different types of shit. There are some people who are great musicians, great bands. They go on tour and in a week they break up. They just can’t hack it. I think with my band we’re all just too stubborn and bitter to quit. It’s kind of like sitting Zazen. You’re like, Oh God this sucks, but I’m not gonna be the first one to give up. With the band it’s like, I’m not gonna be the one to break this shit up. We’ve been not breaking it up for 13 years now.
BW:
But you’ve probably come close. So I guess touring is easier for you now, you’re known, you got your own bus. Is it comfortable
RB:
It’s never really comfortable unless you’re like the Rolling Stones where they fly you in to the gig. Even bands like the Stones, you’re away from home a lot and it sucks. I miss my wife and my friends a lot. I feel really disconnected. You tend to lose touch with reality a little. You live in a kind of alternate universe. Ozzfest is not the real world! It’s weird. But, then again, the road is my home. I’m friends with Hank Williams III, the grandson of Hank Williams. I called him up one time and just said, “I’m sick of it! I’m over it! I’m leaving! I’m going home!” He just said, “Man, you’re married to the road.” And I really am. If the band broke up I’d be relieved for a while. But then I’d find some other way to go traveling.

Lamb of God’s new DVD Walk With Me In Hell is out July 1 2008.
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