TYPE O NEGATIVE
story by Jodi Michael
interview by Christine Natanael

LINKS:

typeonegative.net


If there's one thing Johnny Kelly doesn't like to do, it's sit on his laurels and wait for things to happen. "I'm keeping busy," he says nonchalantly. "You know, you wanna stay busy. Otherwise you're out loading up semis. You gotta keep working; you gotta earn a living."

It's doubtful Kelly will have to worry about finding a back-up job anytime soon, considering the fact that he's been drumming for both Type O Negative and Danzig for a good length of time. "Unfortunately I'm not doing it this year [touring with Danzig]. He's going out now, and he's going out at the same time Type O is, so I can't do it. We're hoping that we'll do a record next year." Another Danzig record? That's something that could cause Danzig-philes all over the world to froth at the mouth. "It's certainly something to be part of the family tree," Kelly says. "And to have something documented on a CD would be great, [just] to see what would happen."

The lanky, dark-haired drummer got hooked up with the man in black after the departure of former Danzig skinsman Joey Castillo, who had left to join Queens of the Stone Age. Kelly put in a call to a roadie friend of his who had toured with Danzig regarding the open spot behind the kit, but he was unaware that Danzig's people were already seeking him out. " It really was like a fluke thing," he relates. "I was sitting around not doing anything, just looking to keep busy. I put a call in and simultaneously, somebody had thrown my name into the mix at their camp. Glenn's assisistant gave me a call that night, and I was like, 'Did you speak to my friend Jay?' He's like, 'No, I got your name from Jerry.' "

So, Kelly made the trek to Los Angeles for an audition. Initially Danzig went for someone local, but that lineup only worked out for two shows. "I got a call again for the European tour that was coming up, and we had a good time. Everything as far as bus politics and things like that went pretty smooth, there wasn't any drama, and Glenn and I got along great." After that tour, the time came for Danzig to record 2004's Circle of Snakes, and again Glenn looked for someone more permanent. Bevan Davies was called in to play drums, and after recording the album, Davies was nixed and Kelly returned. "I never ask questions; it's not my business," Kelly says coolly. "From all accounts, Bevan was a really cool guy. I've hung out with him a number of times and he's always been a cool guy to me, so I don't know what the problem was there. Glenn just didn't feel it was the right fit and wanted to change it up."

But Kelly hasn't spent all his spare time with Danzig. He's been actively writing, touring and promoting with Type O Negative all along, dealing with all of the good and bad that comes with being in one of the world's most well-known goth metal acts. One setback for the band was the incarceration and rehabilitation of Peter Steele, which Kelly refers to as Steele's period "away at college." He says, "I've managed to stay away from the law. I've gotten a ton of speeding tickets; that's about it. I used to get caught jumping the turnstiles on the subways, sneaking into the subways and stuff, but I've never had to spend the night in Brooklyn House or anything like that. I wouldn't exactly say that you're rehabilitated for society [after being in prison], but that isn't research that I'm interested in looking into further."

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of Type O's bad luck. A problem-riddled set at Germany's Rock-am-Ring Festival in 2007 left the members feeling bummed out about one of their first shows in Europe that year. "That was a disaster," Kelly relates. "Out of 30 or 40 bands, we were the only band that had the power go out on us five times. It didn't really fly that well [with the audience]. It's a little more complicated with Type O Negative when stuff like that happens because of the keyboards. Josh [Silver]'s power goes down, [and] it takes five or ten minutes for him to be able to play again. It's not like you just turn the amps back on, and the guitars and the bass, and there you go. You're talking samplers and keyboards and all kinds of effects racks and stuff. So, that happening five times took a chunk of our set out. And then after the fifth time, we were like, 'Fuck it. That's it.' We walked off the stage. We got to play maybe four full songs. And then, of course, after we were done playing, everything went back to normal, as scheduled, and everybody else had perfect sets."

Despite the Rock-am-Ring disasterpiece, Type O's European tour was not all bad. In fact, much of it was good. The band played many places they'd never been before, including Lisbon, Croatia, Estonia and Latvia, and many times to packed-full clubs. "There were a whole bunch of restaurants right by the club [in Lisbon], and I ordered squid," Kelly remembers. "I didn't realize it was gonna be the whole fucking squid, uncut."

Of course, every tour comes with its logistics and scheduling issues, this one being no different. "The crowds [during the European tour] were great, the shows were fun, but you were either at the venue or you were in this bus, middle of summer, with no air conditioning. We had the worst tour bus ever. You would think at this point in our career, stuff like that wouldn't happen, but apparently that's the norm in Europe." Driving through the European countryside in the midst of summertime with no air conditioning, sometimes from sunrise to sunset, made the harbingers of gloom more irritable than one would normally expect. "You have 12 guys in a bus with no air conditioning, you get irritated and everybody's fighting with each other. Stuff like that was tough, and it seemed like you were constantly on the go. You never really had any time to yourself. And as you get older, you get a little crankier and you want your own space. There was none of that to be found."

Kelly admits that the tour was good aside from the aforementioned problems, but that he himself has a hard time staying in Europe for long periods of time. It seems that the convenience of American living does have its upsides, and the absence of those little things that keep us going in our weaker times can take its toll on the blue-blooded American body. "I'm good for about three weeks, and then I start twitching, and my whole attitude and personality changes," Kelly says. "I start flipping out and I become a nasty drunk. Maybe it's not being able to just go to a laundromat and get your laundry done on the whole fucking continent, [or] maybe it has [to do with] the convenience of getting a pack of cigarettes after nine o'clock at night. If all you do is just drink, it's a great time. But if you want to do anything else, like clean yourself, that's a problem. When you're trapped in a bus, it's like a rolling fish bowl and you just get to look out the window and go, 'Hey, look, there it is! Look at that!' And everybody's sitting there with their phone cameras out the window, trying to take pictures as the bus is moving."

However, he admits, Europe is a great place to be when you're not stuck to a grueling schedule. "The shows make up for it and make it worth it. There are some cities there—I mean, think about it. You're in a place where a lot of cultures began. Compared to the States, the States don't have that kind of culture. We're an infantile country when you put it in the grand scheme. To be able to have the day off in a great city with things to do, Europe is awesome. Going on the press tours, that's always been a good time. When we were on Roadrunner, a lot of the times when we would be there for the summers, for festivals, they would keep us in Amsterdam for a week so we could do press. When you had time to get out and explore these places, then being in Europe was fantastic."

When Johnny Kelly isn't busy touring the world, recording albums or working on one of his side projects, Earl's Court (a Led Zeppelin tribute band) and Seventh Void, he's busy being a daddy to two girls, a job that's more important to him than any record deal or worldwide tour. "She [Kelly's six-year-old] is starting to tell me now, 'I wanna come to one of your shows,' " he says. "Now my goal is to see what kind of friends I have in the music business when I get hooked up for fuckin' Hannah Montana." At least Kelly can find humor in being a parent. "It's the worst with girls. A lot of times, the kids will fall down and they refuse to move, like they're stuck in this injured position. I'm like, 'Look at that cut! You've gotta be kidding me! Get up!' Kids are resilient. My daughter's fucking fearless. My greatest fear [is] being a disappointment to the people I really care about. I wouldn't want to let my daughter down, and I wouldn't want her to think about me when I'm gone, 'That guy was a real fuckin' asshole. I fuckin' hate that guy.' I know that time is gonna happen, there's gonna be that period where's she's gonna hate me. All kids hate their parents at one point. I hope that when she's older, she'll realize whatever happens, 'He did the best that he could.' "