Scars and Guitars

By Andrew McKaysmith

Andrew McKaysmith is a Bond University-trained journalist with a life long interest in music. Since 2017, he has been the host of the musician themed Scars and Guitars podcast. He has amassed well over 600 interviews that have achieved a worldwide audience, and it is from these interviews, he has compiled this book series. 

 

Contained within the pages of Scars and Guitars, Volume 1, you'll discover thoughts and recollections from conversations with over 90 podcast guests. You'll read excerpts from conversations with the members of bands plying their trade under the broader banners of rock, classic rock, heavy metal, industrial, death metal, black metal, deathcore, thrash metal, punk, and reggae, featuring musicians as diverse as Michael Schenker (MSG/ Scorpions), Don Felder (Eagles), Erik Danielsson (Watain) Phil Campbell (Motörhead), Al Di Meola, Adam Darski AKA Nergal (Behemoth/ Me and That Man), George Lynch (Dokken) as well as bumper entries featuring conversations with the members of Morbid Angel, Anthrax, Megadeth, Napalm Death, Testament, Corrosion of Conformity, and Cradle of Filth, to name just a few. 

 

The value in Scars and Guitars, Volume 1, is the sense that, as a reader, you are now a part of the conversation. Andrew has a knack for allowing the person he is talking to feel at ease, which is how he obtains deep insight into their thoughts and feelings. As you read through the book's many entries, you'll feel as though you were there, an observer at the time of the conversation. Andrew invites you into this world; he wants you to feel the nervous tension he experiences approaching an interview, the special moments when a breakthrough occurs during a chat and the personal moments when he recognises that a subject is sharing something meaningful and personal. 

 

The secret to Andrew's technique is that he is an expert at helping an interview subject feel like they are no longer in an interview. His goal is to quickly move from an interview into a conversation, a so-called 'safe space' where no topic is off-limits. Scars and Guitars, Volume 1, is the type of book you'll pick up and find hard to put down. If you love rock and heavy metal, this book is undoubtedly for you, and Andrew personally invites you to share in the experience. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew McKaysmith
• Release date: Feb 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201325480

Andrew McKaysmith

Andrew McKaysmith is a Bond University educated journalist. He hosts the Scars and Guitars podcast, which features long-form conversations with musicians, achieving a broad global listener base. He has conducted over 600 interviews with many well-known musicians from the genres of rock, pop, and metal. He is a father of two daughters, a passionate follower of the Wests Tigers NRL team and the Australian national rugby union team. He spends his weekends catching up on reading and writing, looking after his daughter's many pets, and, if he has the time, he'll swim some laps at the local pool.

Book preview

Introduction to Scars and Guitars (Volume 1)

Conversations with musicians from the world of heavy metal and beyond

Thanks for picking up this collection of yarns based on my conversations for my podcast, called Scars and Guitars, with so many of the leading lights of heavy metal, extreme metal, rock music and beyond.

You’re probably just like me – a dyed-in-the-wool fan of the bands you love. You can’t help but be drawn into almost every facet of their music and their personalities. My fascination with rock and metal bands started early, at around 10 years of age and I was 14 when I decided I wanted to become a musician. Primus, Faith No More, Living Colour and Fishbone were the bedrock of my musical foundation, so I just had to play the bass guitar, a pursuit that continues to this day. Being a musician gives me a distinct advantage when it comes to preparing questions and steering a conversation onto intriguing topics.

It’s not just about the music. It goes without saying that musicians are still people and we all have to find a way to live and be content in this life. I share a lot about myself with the musician I’m in conversation with. It’s natural and by doing this I’m building rapport. There’s a fair amount of commentary and observations based on what was going on in my life peppered throughout the book. I wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do. I’ve been criticised for conducting interviews as conversations but it’s just my way of doing things and I’m not changing.

Before you get stuck into reading each entry, I thought it best to give you the reasons behind this music journalism thing that I dedicate almost all of my spare time to.

As a teenager, I learned that I had a knack for mentally cataloguing large amounts of information about bands. I have a shocking memory so it was unusual that I could bank huge volumes of music-related information. I read Metal Maniacs and Terrorizer magazine in the ’90s and could absorb the articles like a sponge, and I’d talk to independent record store clerks for hours on end. If I met someone like-minded at a party I’d ignore almost everything else and talk ‘shop’ with my fellow music tragic. It’s a passion that will never go away. This book series is about me bringing things full circle, from reader to writer, and my desire is that my words connect with like-minded souls.

I’m easily found so if you want to have a chat and share a yarn or two, you can hit me up at [e-mail], via the Scars and Guitars website, or socials presence on Facebook and Instagram.

Peace.

Al Anderson (The Original Wailers)

A person playing a guitar Description automatically generated

...when Sly and Robbie came in for Equal Rights, wow, I just felt that if I keep recording with artists like these guys, I’m going to get somewhere.

I looked at my singer, and not for the first time, wanted to clobber him. My fingers hurt, we hadn’t learned nearly enough songs, and now, all eyes were on us to keep playing and fill the room with music.

Months earlier, I was asked if I wanted to learn a few tunes and perform them as background music before a wedding reception. Sure, I thought. I mean, I’m a bass player but if all you want is someone to strum a few chords as blokes sink a few beers and ladies sip on their chardonnay, why not?

But my singer had clearly misunderstood what we’d been hired to do.

Guests arrived, mingled, and exchanged pleasantries. Young and old, they sat down in their allocated seats and turned toward the stage, toward us. It felt as though every pair of ears evaluated our barely adequate renditions of famous rock songs transposed to an acoustic setting. Half an hour became an hour, and I was struggling. On stage, I can play the bass guitar for four hours straight, but the thinner strings on an acoustic were like a knife slicing into the raw skin on my fingers.

The MC eventually approached. Thank God, I thought, it’s over. Only it wasn’t. He said the wedding party had arrived and to get ready. Ready for what? The bridal entrance, that’s what, and we were the soundtrack. I couldn’t believe it; my bass-playing hands had to strangle out two more songs for one of the most memorable moments in a newly married couple’s life.

I thought quickly. I’d been here before, with musicians who flubbed through a set in front of an expectant audience. Barely rehearsed, I could never understand why the foolhardy took to a stage. Only now, I was that musician, and the only solace I could take was that I had been thrown into the deep end, and had to find a way to keep going.

Okay, I thought, what two songs had we already performed that we could replay to get us through this crucial stage of the afternoon? Green Day’s Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) was one, and the other, well I had to think, and quickly, as I fumbled through the first few stanzas of Green Day’s classic tune, drawing a stern look from a fellow at a table nearby. Finally, we reached the grand finale. I hit the first note when I saw the door open. In walked the stunning bride and beaming groom. The singer warbled, and I studiously performed No Woman, No Cry.

We got through it, thank the gods. I’d later find out the wedding party was thrilled with our song selections. It’s a memory I rarely revisit, but I thought about that scene as I was preparing for my interview with New York City-born guitarist Al Anderson. 

If you’re unfamiliar, Al played the guitar on No Woman, No Cry by Bob Marley and the Wailers, so that’s his guitar playing you hear in the song’s iconic opening lick, which helped me survive a performance that perilous afternoon.

The popularity of No Woman, No Cry amongst AM and FM radio programmers and the ubiquity of streaming in the digital epoch means it’s not unreasonable to suggest that at any time, anywhere across the globe, Al’s guitar playing is beaming across the airwaves. These days Al is at the centre of the Bob Marley and the Wailers legacy act, The Original Wailers. A regular visitor to Australia, the opportunity to chat to Al came about through The Original Wailers’ December 2017 Australian tour.

The main issue I had to contend with throughout the call had nothing to do with the tour or Al’s career; it was the phone line’s diabolical quality. I didn’t want to miss Al’s commentary, but I was often straining to hear him. I got through it, and I draw inspiration and encouragement from the conversation, the reasons for which I’ll cover soon.

Al started the interview by praising Australian and New Zealand audiences for making it happen for the Wailers. The group’s popularity in the Antipodes launched their international career and mega-success in the United States and England. Al recalled audiences flocking to shows, with 80,000 people attending one concert and going home with a combined merchandise haul that filled three truck trailers.

Al must anticipate the ‘Bob’ question each interview. I thought I’d put a slight twist on it by inquiring if the man’s public persona was different to who he was in private.

Al said he lived with Bob at Bob’s mother’s house in Delaware for a year and a half and it was full of music.

Bob was incredible. That whole time he wrote songs or was playing soccer because he was very good at it. My relationship with Bob was work, and I had the same relationship with Peter Tosh. My friendship with them was secondary to the music. I played my acoustic guitar, adding my part to help build a track.

Al went into some extraordinary detail describing the characteristics of the studio musicians that Bob surrounded himself with, comparing the band to a massive muscle that anytime it flexed, there was strength.

My favourite reggae album ever is Legalize It, the debut from ex-Wailer Peter Tosh.

Al said Peter was a ‘lone wolf’, whereas Bob would surround the band with an entourage in the studio.

"I spent hours with him (Peter), literally hours and hours. With Legalize It, it was just like, ‘Oh, wow, dude, you’re on to something’. And when Sly and Robbie came in for Equal Rights, wow, I just felt that if I keep recording with artists like these guys, I’m going to get somewhere."

I mentioned throughout the interview that I’m a musician. I didn’t share the wedding tale, but I did say I performed regularly. As Al and I were winding up, we exchanged well wishes, and he asked if I played rock, jazz or reggae music. Somewhat sheepishly, I replied that I perform in a covers band playing everything from Linda Ronstadt, Fleetwood Mac and of course, Bob Marley and the Wailers.

I was partway through saying we played in local bars and clubs, and Al started talking. I kept talking. We both stopped. Silence for a moment until Al said something I’ll never forget.

What you’re saying is you’re a real musician, and I get it, he said. You’re doing exactly what I had to do.

My head was spinning a little after the comparison. For the non-musicians out there, it probably sounds like an ordinary comment. But think about it: the guitarist who has been in a band with Bob Marley and Peter Tosh and performed sessions for Lauryn Hill and Ben Harper, says you’re a real musician.

I replied that his sentiments meant a lot and rambled for a bit until we bade goodbye.

A gentleman to the very end, Al said, Bless you, man, it’s all going to happen for you. It’ll take a minute, but it’ll happen. You gotta be in it to win it, man.

Thank you, Al.

Anders Fridén and Björn Gelotte (In Flames)

Two men standing together Description automatically generated with low confidence

Grunge was all over the place, and metal was taking a beating, but not amongst our group of friends.- Björn Gelotte

I’ve often spoken of the wonders of omnichannel telepresence in communication technology. It is magnificent to talk to musicians who are thousands of kilometres away, as if they are somewhere nearby, if not in the house next door.

For all the technological advantages at our fingertips, there are still a few drawbacks. A conversation with the vocalist in the Swedish outfit In Flames exhibited many of the challenges of conducting long-distance interviews.

In Flames is a band that popularised the new wave of Swedish death metal (NWoSDM) as budding metal fans started ditching mainstream press outlets for the internet to discover music. The band was a revelation by the time they released Whoracle in 1997. They capitalised on their surging popularity on their next album, Colony, in 1999 – a rare moment in heavy metal history where a group’s promise surpassed expectation. Colony is so good; it’s one of the greatest albums from a Swedish outfit, which is saying something given many Swede’s prodigious talent for crafting peerless heavy metal.

I’d been a fan of the group up to the 2002 album Reroute to Remain, which is where I noticed the most significant change in the band’s musical identity since Jester. Tellingly, a heap of old fans bailed an album later on 2004’s Soundtrack to Your Escape, which saw the band adopt a pile of characteristics familiar to nu-metal audiences. Soundtrack was the group’s first album to reach the Billboard 200, which should tell you something about the tunes’ more accessible nature if you’re unfamiliar. I felt Reroute was a quality album since many aspects of its sound could be traced back to Jester, but I could understand why In Flames had the old guard miffed on Soundtrack.

Many old fans believe the group cashed in on their popularity by shifting significant characteristics of their sound away from the NWoSDM they helped refine. That’s not a knock, by the way. The group can do as they damn well please, although it was a sensitive subject with vocalist Anders Fridén when I had a chat with him before they released the album I, the Mask in 2019.

Anders Fridén

Before I quote Anders, I must acknowledge that my recording software had a severe case of the gremlins during our chat. Every hundred interviews or so, shit goes wrong, and no matter what I do to resolve the issue on the fly, I can’t fix it. Anders was also one of those rare interview subjects whose management linked the call via a secure and private line. So I knew the likelihood of asking him to call me back, or me calling him once I’d sorted things out, was remote. To compound matters, the phone line’s quality was as bad as the one that afflicted the Al Anderson interview, so I was seriously up against it as I raised a topic I was sure Anders would bristle at the mere mention of.

Sure enough, he did.

I need to be clear that at no stage was Anders rude, or abrupt. But he had a single line, a choice phrase, to refute any suggestions that they’d purposely steer the group into commercially favourable territory post-Soundtrack.

We’ve always been, like, we control this ship, nobody else, he said.

I struggled to hear Anders, so even if I did want to dive deeper into the topic, it wouldn’t have been wise. But it’s hard to argue with his logic as the band is achieving significant milestones nowadays. Deep Purple had the group perform as special guests during their incredible show at Mexico’s Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez in 2018. Other artists on the same world tour included Alice Cooper, Judas Priest and Cheap Trick. This gives you some idea of the calibre of bands the veterans honoured by asking them to join them on the road.

I managed to successfully capture around five of the 15 minutes allocated with Anders. So there was no point in releasing the audio as intended. Instead, I crafted a yarn for The A List Online, a partner website I manage with Nuclear Blast Australia and New Zealand Managing Director, John Howarth.

The conversation with Anders is proof, yet again, of the serendipitous nature of my indie-podcast venture. Anders called me from his tour bus, which probably accounts for the phone line’s diabolical quality. I casually mentioned that Chris Broderick was one of my favourite guitarists, as I knew he was part of In Flames’ touring party.

Anders said he was sitting right next to him. He laughed and said Chris was stinking up the tour bus heating tuna in the microwave. I almost asked Anders to hand over the phone but thought better of it.

I’d conducted an email Q&A with Chris when his band, Act of Defiance, released Old Scars, New Wounds – one of the standout albums from 2017. Chris shared the article to his socials alongside my extremely favourable review of the album, both published by Metal Obsession; subsequently, they achieved a broad audience. Fingers crossed Chris can eventually join me for a decent chat on the podcast.

Chris’ gig was temporary and due to In Flames’ tenured guitarist Niclas Engelin’s inability to tour, reportedly for medical reasons. Niclas has a long association with the band and joined as a full-time member in time for the 2014 album Siren Charms. But In Flames wouldn’t have enjoyed their long career to date if not for Björn Gelotte, the group’s principal guitarist, whose presence in the band since Jester had a heavy hand in their favourable fortune.

Björn’s talents are so integral to In Flames’ sound that he recorded both drums and lead guitars on Jester. His approach to blending choice melodic phrasing with eviscerating speed and heaviness alongside long-time co-guitarist Jesper Strömblad, who left in 2010, gave the band a crucial x-factor. The duo’s remarkable partnership separated them from their contemporaries as metal roared back into the spotlight, with In Flames near the tip of the spear.

Björn Gelotte

The catalyst of the conversation with Björn was the re-release and 20th-anniversary update of Clayman. Unlike the discussion with Anders a year and a half earlier, everything about this interview went according to plan. In a similar manner to Anders, the interview was conducted using an intermediary. With Björn, it was via a hosted teleconference bridge. When I dialled in, I had to wait until the interview that was already in progress wound up. The tell-tale goodbyes were my cue to introduce myself, so I offered a meek hello, and we exchanged salutations.

I asked how the interviews were going. Björn mentioned it was going well, but the teleconference bridge was far from perfect. He said it was better when journalists called him directly so they could address any quality issues. The irony!

By this stage, I’d developed a tactic of framing my first question as a point. So I told Björn I believed the group’s body of work between 1996 and 2000 was amongst the most important in post-’80s heavy metal history, and that just about every metalcore band out there owed In Flames a debt of gratitude for beating down the door.

Björn said the band were just doing what they wanted and referenced the godfathers of NWoSDM.

These are big things that you are saying. Being part of it back then wasn’t like ‘Oh, I’m in the scene, I’ve got to do something’. We were just making the music we wanted to hear, he said.

"Grunge was all over the place, and metal was taking a beating, but not amongst our group of friends. We listened to a tonne of At The Gates, especially Slaughter of the Soul. We didn’t want to write songs like them, but we wanted to sound like that."

Björn went on to say that when the group arrived at the same studio in which At The Gates recorded Slaughter of the Soul, producer Fredrik Nordström had a chuckle when they announced they wanted to achieve the same sonic architecture on Jester. Nordström told Björn and his bandmates that At The Gates spent seven weeks in the studio perfecting the sound over thousands of takes, so shoehorning these studio tactics into the 11 days In Flames had booked was out of the question. All considered, it’s remarkable that Jester sounds as potent as it does.

In Flames’ four classic albums have been repackaged or given the ‘special edition’ treatment at some stage over the past two decades. I was curious why the band singled out Clayman for a remaster, which is the arduous process of imbuing a song, or an album, with a different sound.

In his response, Björn didn’t necessarily answer the question. Instead, he provided a deep insight into the band’s philosophy.

We are not very romantic about the past, he said. "It was awesome, obviously, but I think now is way better. The future is looking great. Twenty-five years later, I love what I’m doing. When you think about it and the things I've seen and experienced, it’s insane, and it’s crazy.

Every album has brought us here. It has never been a matter of celebrating a ‘golden era’. If you looked at the audiences back then, nobody gave a shit.

Björn went on to reference the hoopla surrounding the group's evolving sound.

"When we did Whoracle, people said ‘it’s not Jester’. When we did Colony, people said the last good one was Whoracle, and it just moves on like that, he said. I think the most significant change was when Anders and I joined and did Jester."

The band’s 1994 debut, Lunar Strain, was willing and ambitious, yet the album lacked the charisma that would endear In Flames to young and impressionable fans such as myself at the time. Given the massive jump in both quality of songwriting and studio polish threaded through Jester, Anders and Björn’s arrival was a very early clue that In Flames wouldn’t be tied to any particular sound aesthetic from one album to the next.

Much like the band’s career, the interviews conducted with Anders and Björn are a study in contrasts. Anders wasn’t necessarily willing to discuss the group’s evolving sound, whereas Björn embraced the conversation.

Old fans such as myself will always revere the group's ’90s offerings. Newer fans, such as those who must have been blown away by the group’s performance at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, now have plenty of epic heavy metal to discover throughout In Flames’ catalogue.

Tim Aymar, Steve Di Giorgio, Ralph Santolla and Gene Hoglan (Death and Control Denied)

(Chuck) would be 50 by now, so our plan was, we’d be retired and racing our yachts.- Tim Aymar

I spent many nights marvelling at the spectacular view from my apartment. The panorama of Brisbane’s skyline hinted at the potential in this subtropical gateway to Australia’s north. My office was a few minutes’ walk away, and one of Australia’s busiest entertainment precincts was at my doorstep. I was also going to the gym five or six days a week and in the prime of my life. I’d never felt so connected to life’s possibilities, so it made sense it was when I’d meet my future wife.

As many of you know, workplace relationships are often messy and complicated. I can’t say that ours was blue skies and plain sailing, but we’d eventually get married, have kids, and build a life together. And I’ll never forget the moment I introduced her to music, my music, and her priceless reaction. My wife is from a different background, culturally and socially. She (still) likes urban chart hits. I can’t recall if she could name a single rock or metal band back then other than Bon Jovi or Green Day, I’d bet she couldn’t. So of course I had to show her a Death video on YouTube, which was one of many burgeoning streaming platforms in 2007.

Lack of Comprehension opens with a subtle soundscape pinned by bassist Steve DiGiorgio’s slinky groove. Chuck Schuldiner chimes away on the guitar, then all hell breaks loose. A few glorious minutes of windmill headbanging, precision riffing, percussion overlord Sean Reinert’s (RIP) divine double bass master class, and ‘evil’ Chuck’s screeching vocals filled the room. My (then) new girlfriend thought I must have been joking and was waiting for me to bust a laugh, one that would never come. ‘Just kidding,’ she later said she hoped I’d say, and switch it to Omarion, Ne-Yo or Ludacris.

I would never speak to Chuck. He was long gone by the time I started the podcast. I’ll always remember when I heard the news he was dead. At 34 years of age, in 2001, he succumbed to illness caused by brain cancer. Australia’s national youth broadcaster, Triple J, ran a feature honouring Chuck. The DJ spun a heap of Death tunes well into the night; more of Chuck’s music blared from Australian radio in those few hours than in all the years he was alive.

Sadly, Chuck would never bear witness to metal’s resurgence. His considerable legacy is present in every metal band playing down-tuned metal, fast, with gruff ‘death’ vocals. Jeff Beccera is sure that his group, Possessed, founded death metal. But I tend to think Possessed took thrash metal to its absolute limit, which inspired Kam Lee and Chuck, who figured out how to turn thrash into death metal on any one of the demo and rehearsal recordings on which they both feature, then there’s the album which should be considred the very first commercially available death metal full length album, the 1987 landmark, Scream Bloody Gore.

As much as I’ve grown to adore Chuck’s principal musical vehicle, my favourite album bearing his signature guitar playing isn’t by Death. The Fragile Art of Existence under the Control Denied moniker contains a different strain of Chuck’s genius. The master death metal craftsman turned his hand to traditional metal, which meant he needed a conventional singer. So in 1997 he recruited Tim Aymar and together they got to work.

Chuck always recruited brilliant musicians, and Tim is a vocalist without peer. Tim may have even won the gig over Judas Priest’s Rob Halford, the Metal God himself, whom Chuck, a Priest mega-fan, had considered a perfect prospect for the project. I’ve long said if I could borrow any singer’s voice, it would be Tim’s, and I often wondered what it would be like to talk to him; it had been in the back of my mind for years.

Tim Aymar

Life hadn’t been easy for Tim when he agreed to an interview in 2017. He’d launched a crowdfunding campaign to help get him back on track after a run of bad luck. His health was suffering due to an injury he picked up working in construction, and he even took my call inside the vehicle he was using for rideshare.

I found Tim receptive and willing to talk. He said he didn’t know how he felt about my idea that he’d won the vocal role over Priest’s Halford – meaning, I think, that it was an accomplishment which defied too much thought. I should add, only Chuck and Halford would know how far discussions went, if they happened at all.

Tim said that joining the nucleus of Death to forge Control Denied felt like a homecoming. Chuck even invited him to stay at his house when he moved to Florida to record Existence. Their mornings started with rounds of coffee, bagels and cream cheese, and the duo would call a local radio station and request Southern rock such as Lynyrd Skynyrd, which Tim insists were their heroes, as much as any metal band.

He was a hippie and very laid back, he said. He’d be 50 by now, so our plan was, we’d be retired and racing our yachts (laughs).

The duo enjoyed the same things, such as good food, friends and family, and Tim even hinted at a psychic connection. Long after the sessions for Existence were over, the pair remained in touch. It was spooky when Tim reached for the phone to call Chuck, lo and behold, it would ring, and it was him.

Tim told me about their only argument – over garbage, of all things. Chuck took exception when Tim bought a new rubbish bin to help clean up the Schuldiner household after the prodigious volumes of beer the band were drinking. Don’t spend your money on me, Chuck snarled. Don’t tell me I can’t spend money on my friend, Tim snapped back, chuckling over the memory. 

Tim expressed regret that he hadn’t reached out to Death and Control Denied bassist Scott Clendenin in the intervening years. Over the shortwave radio-like ambience of our phone connection, I could still make out the strain in his voice. Scott didn’t appear on the studio edition of Existence, although he did record bass parts for the official release, which Chuck scrubbed following a disagreement. Scott’s playing eventually appeared on many demos issued as bonus material years later.

Through his recollections of Scott, Tim provided insight into the dysfunction that plagued Death’s incarnations and carried over to Control Denied. On completing their