Killing Joke

Apocalypse Row.

Killing jokes are more than just a band. They were a huge inspiration to the likes of Metallica, Soundgarden and Fear Factory, and now Jaz Coleman wants to lead the human race into its next phase.

The end is nigh! Again. But this time it really is night! December 21, 2012 to be precise, according to Mayan prophecies and some 937,000 search results on Google. Not that this should come as a vast surprise to Killing Joke fans. Ever since their inception in 1979 these madly brilliant prophets of doom, arguably one of the most important and influential bands since the birth of the rock music, have been warning of the fall of Western civilisation. Indeed, as long ago as 1982, wild-eyed frontman Jaz Coleman fled to Iceland fearing an imminent apocalypse, and while he’s not the first soothsayer to wake up the morning after doomsday to find that the four horsemen didn’t show up to the party, there is, nonetheless, something about the man – with a reputed IQ of 190 – that tells you he’ll have the last laugh.

“The apocalypse was the cover story,” he insists today, from behind a cloud of weed smoke in their dressing room at the House Of Blues in Los Angeles. “I was doing the process of conversation with my holy guardian angel, which {psychologist Carl} Jung calls individuation, and I didn’t know how to tell the rest of the guys that’s what I was doing.”

Which, when you have finished looking up ‘individuation’, seems, to the layman at least, like a fancy way of saying he was getting his shit together. Then again, a splash of snake oil aside, it was in Iceland that Jaz decided he was going to become an orchestra composer, eventually going on to become the in-house composer for the Prague Symphony Orchestra as well as conducting the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. He has also gone Platinum 20 times making, of all things, Eastern European folk music. And it was in Iceland that the band’s ideas about The Gathering were formulated.

“The Gathering,” explains Jaz, “is a network of likeminded individuals and our ideas of creating villages or arcs in under populated regions of the world.

“This is not just a band,” he expounds. “It’s our further education; Killing Joke is a university and a mirror. People see us arseholes onstage and think, ‘I can do that’. It has this knock-on effect, the mirror effect, and they end up going on to look at their God’s gift. We’ve inspired so many different people to do so many different things. I think that’s huge. The philosophical side of Killing Joke is a huge part, it’s the transition from the idea that a fan club sells t-shirts and the idea of a fan club is an insulting idea. Instead we can buy parts of the rainforest and these places can be run by people who believe in the lifestyle choice of sustainable resources, permaculture and everything we believe as free-thinking individuals. The effect of Killing Joke is not a normal rock’n’roll thing. Within The Gathering we’ve got high-clearance NATO people, doctors, nurses, and people of every walk of life who have been inspired by the lifestyle and the ideas of Killing Joke. We’re free-thinking people and we take our liberty seriously. The idea that a fan club can be a network of alternative villages with sustainable resources all around the globe is now a reality. It’s no longer just a dream and we have a destiny that’s emerging as we’re coming up to our 30^th anniversary.”

Like the man said, Killing Joke is no ordinary band; their musical influence alone has been phenomenal. Metallica covered them, Mad Capsule Markets covered them, Fear Factory covered them, Foo Fighters covered them, Amen, Helmet...you get the idea. They were Soundgarden’s favourite band. Oh, and a little band called Nirvana nearly got sued for copyright infringement when the riff to Come As You Are bore a striking similarity to Killing Joke’s Eighties. Jaz apparently decided not to continue legal action because he had the unfair advantage over Kurt Cobain of still being alive, though a Karmic debt was repaid when Dave Grohl actually played drums on Killing Joke’s brilliant self-titled album released in 2003.

Ironically it was the tragic death of Killing Joke bassist Paul Raven from a heart attack on October 20, 2007 – something that Jaz says was more difficult to bear than the passing of his own father – that was the catalyst for bringing the original line-up: Jaz on vocals, Geodie Walker on guitar, Martin ‘Youth’ Glover on bass and Big Paul Ferguson on drums back together.

“The original line-up was something that I think always haunted Raven because he was never part of the genesis of Killing Joke,” ponders Jaz. “We always knew it was something that could happen. I think the trigger for that was meeting up with Big Paul at Raven’s passing. I truly think Raven wanted this.”

And while Jaz jokes that now they only have one bassist he’ll have to get on with him instead of swapping when they fall out, it’s interesting to note that Youth insists there was never any rivalry between them.

“We were very close,” he says. “He did 12 years in Killing Joke and I only did four. He defined the band far more than I did. When they did Love Like Blood I was like, ‘Fuck! I shouldn’t have left that band!’ But if I’d stayed I would have been dead.”

Instead Youth went on to be a hugely successful producer; working with everyone from Paul McCartney to The Verve (he won Producer Of The Year in 1998 for his work on their Urban Hymns album) and even had a stab at producing Guns N’ Roses’ Chinese Democracy album, though he won’t be drawn on whether he thinks it’s any good. He hasn’t changed much over the years; with a t-shirt bearing the oh-so-tasteful moniker Selfish Cunt, he’s probably the easiest band member to get along with: ever –friendly, talkative and music- obsessed. Geordie, meanwhile, can sometimes appear aloof and disinterested, but he’ll turn on the charm occasionally, dishing out red wine to the ladies and quoting Oscar Wilde. It’s difficult to say if Big Paul has changed; once a quietly spoken, amiable yob, he doesn’t really hang out much today until after their magnificent sell-out show, when after-party drummer-talk with Dave Grohl is rather more appealing than doing interviews. And Jaz? Hell, he’s like a bad ass Doctor Who with dash of Jedi thrown in 9dark side, naturally), an ordained minister, a nomad with multiple passports...

“Yeah, like Raven, I have many different lives in many different parts of the world,” he smiles. “Some places I’m known for my work in classical music, some I’m known for my work in mysticism and the occult and some places I’m known for Killing Joke; it’s a long way from opera houses to Killing Joke...The jester can hit the king. He walks between worlds!”

Perhaps not surprisingly, given his spiritual and occult beliefs, he has no doubt that he’ll be seeing Raven again.

“Absolutely,” nods Jaz. “I was shocked that my brother, who’s a physicist, not only believes in life after death, but that energy never stops being energy. It’s a bit like a star; most of the stars you see in the night sky are gone, the actual planets are burnt out and gone, but we still see them. And when you think that we’re learning through these theories that whatever we do and whatever we are is for eternity. This idea of eternity that links quantum physics and esoteric is something I want to do lots of lectures about. I want Killing Joke to be many things as we approach 2012. I want to talk about zero point energy and I want to demonstrate inanimate objects floating in mid-air. I want people to see it.”

Presumably this means he’s actually seen real, tangible magic, not just David Blaine sitting in a box for a month?

“I’ve seen inanimate objects rise,” beams Jaz. “I’ve seen levitation successfully performed; I’ve seen magic actually work in a very physical form. And yes, it does work! I’ve seen the Indian rope trick on a magical site...forever about it if you want.”

And what of the end of the world? These Mayan predictions that we can all kiss our arses goodbye in 2012?

“Well, it doesn’t say it’s all over, it says that time as we know it will no longer exist,” shrugs Jaz. “It’s the end of a big cycle. Centralised government is going to fall down because it can’t sustain itself, so each area has to be self-reliant. This is the only way forward. We must think ahead of banking for example, by looking at advanced systems of barter that already exist like in Argentina and Brighton. There’s even a pub in Norwich where you can sing or perform for your supper. Barter is a brilliant idea because it means that we can supersede banks. The world will change beyond our imagination, that’s for sure.”

Like we said, the end is nigh. But Killing Joke will provide one hell of a soundtrack.

Carnival Bizarre

Five events in the weird and wonderful world of Killing Joke.

In 1993 Killing Joke recorded the track Exorcism in the King’s Chamber Pyramid in Cairo, having paid $5, 000 to use the place for ‘meditation purposes’. “When we went into the pyramid and there’s a ritual to open it,” says Jaz, “and Youth didn’t realise that they dress up like Isis in all this Egyptian gear. He looks over and sees these women dressed as Isis and he goes, “Ere Jaz, who are those three weird birds at the back?”

Once known as a human drug-bin, Youth was recruited into Killing Joke after Geordie met him in a brothel. Youth was later sent to a mental hospital having been found walking naked down London’s King’s Road burning money.

Killing Joke has a ‘difficult’ relationship with the press. One hapless journalist was allegedly gaffa-taped for asking stupid questions and while Jaz says he doesn’t recall conducting an entire interview in a made-up language, he did once deliver a bucket of maggots to the offices of the now defunct Melody Maker. Let’s hope he likes this feature.

In 2002 Jaz played the role of the Devil in the award-winning Czech movie The Year Of The Devil. He was also up for the part of Don Logan in Sexy Beast, but lost out to Ben Kingsley.

In a move that he insists was more a “practical joke” than a political act, Jaz Coleman was instrumental in getting a verse in the native Maori language added to the national anthem of New Zealand. It was sung at the 1999 Rugby World Cup by a Maori activist and later added to the anthem officially.