If you were searching for thumbtacks and started digging through the kitchen junk drawer only to find there were no thumbtacks, the only thing you would come away remembering is that there were no thumbtacks. The drawer’s contents would typically escape most of us. What one takes away from an experience is simply the part that matters. The reason for your being there, your talent or cause, even your name… none of this can be recalled unless they walk away feeling as though something of significance occurred. Relationships are built upon this principle and are what allow us to relate to one another. Commonalities are significant. In order to form a connection with your fans, they must be able to relate to you.
For a musician, the desire for expression is typically the impetus for engagement. But the creative isn’t always comfortable or proficient in social settings. Wearing their heart on their sleeve is the price they pay for nurturing a following. The best one can hope for is a bohemian milieu and a receptive crowd. My word to the introvert would be simply, “this could go well, if you let it”.
Taste may be subjective, but musicians often live, eat, breathe, and sleep their respective genres. They hold that land sacred and can be protective or objectionable at times. Their craft is a point of pride. But remaining amiable is necessary to accessibility and like-mindedness; two essential elements of the engagement a fan seeks. In our interview, New Orleans, Louisiana lyricist Alfred banks said, “I always like to move with the culture in mind. I’ve always been the guy that is the introduction to a bunch of people that don’t normally indulge in hip hop. It’s a gift and a curse. It’s a gift because I am their intro to hip hop. And I am a pretty good variation of hip hop. I want people to hear the best that they can hear. And I am the best that they can hear. It’s a curse because people don’t know how to indulge in hip hop. Because they don’t normally encounter hip hop. So, I am in a space where people say shit like ‘I don’t really listen to rap. But if I do I listen to you.’ That is an insult. Listen to hip hop. What are you talking about?”
Being so ingrained in the culture, he took those words as a personal slight. This is a revealing look at one of the challenges musicians face. The beauty overshadowed here is this: To be the ambassador for something you love is like being the unsung hero. Because you’re sharing a piece of something you love with a person you don’t even know. Alfred, at this point in his life, is a seasoned veteran whom undoubtedly handles these situations with grace. But it pains me to know how interactions that should be received as uplifting compliments can sometimes become a discouragement.
I interviewed Chris Leblanc, a guitarist and vocalist out of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He described the words of a friend goading him to release new music. “Why haven’t you put out another record in a while?”, the friend inquired suggestively. Chris’ immediate feelings on the matter were less than agreeable. “Go listen to my last records”, he replied. Chris later explained his perspective to me, “I’ve got to put this out because my fans are waiting on it? No! Nobody’s waiting on nothing. There’s billions of songs out there.” In his mind, he’d set the bar high up to this point and delivered. To align his releases with, what was in his eyes, a nonexistent public demand would be a compromise of integrity. He also reminded everyone in our interview, “There’s no money to be made in releasing records right now. But it still costs money to make records”.
In this instance, a friend implied with sincerity that fans were anxious to hear something new from him. But that friend couldn’t possibly know the circumstances that Chris and many other musicians face. What was once a more musician-friendly landscape governed by physical relationships and tangible products has now morphed into a digital terrain where the only thing we see, touch, or interact with is electronic devices. And to cap off this chilling stratosphere, statistics on new music releases are staggering. According to recent data, approximately 100,000 new songs are released on streaming services every day, with some reports stating the number is closer to 120,000. The majority of these come from independent artists like Chris. All musicians must reconcile with this harsh reality. But again, in that moment, the musician is supposed to suppress a dismal truth in order to remain in the good graces of a fan and friend. If any musician can find light in the “compliment”, well, that’s lagniappe.
To the musician, I might suggest disseminating pieces of yourself, enabling fans to parse out which parts of you they connect with. It serves the musician well by both retaining current fans and gaining new ones. Efficient avenues like magazines or websites are tethered to podcasts, Youtube channels and blogs. Tales From the Riff, Mixed-Alt Mag, Musicians Mentor, Local Riffs, and Paranoize Magazine are a few local examples of entities whom I have found to be approachable and genuinely interested in our local scene. There are also data aggregators like Feedspot.com that, for free or a fee, can supply you with a list of these independent media outlets cross-referenced with their respective social following and contact information. With these options, you (the musician) can curate a more personal side for the deserving. And it’s good practice in speaking with others about your day or about your life.
There’s something special about being able to connect with a musician. Before his set, I met vocalist Mike IX Williams (Eyehategod) out in the crowd at Chelsea’s in Baton Rouge. He was hanging out in the back watching some of the opening bands perform. I later went on to interview him and found him to be both passionate and genuine. He was interested to learn about Neworleansmusicians.com and thanked me for my efforts. Similarly, I interviewed metal guitarist Johnnie Lagrange who related an instance where he was approached out in the parking lot of a bar by vocalist Kyle Thomas (Exhorder). The two shared stories and spoke like old friends. These are people who have toured the world several times over, playing for thousands at a time. The gravity of such an encounter makes those five or seven minutes live on in the minds of others for an eternity. To be gracious in the moment cements musicians as “one of them”.
Speaking personally, in my lifetime I have witnessed the collapse of all major institutions whom I was raised to trust. Our politicians, our religious figures, our leaders in healthcare, and the branches of our government have all failed us. Uncertainty has festered into an all-out anxietous infection and for all of us, I’m sure, our paths have been bittersweet. But music has never, ever failed me. Fans are people searching for truth. I believe extreme music takes things a step further in that, like the music, fans exist on the fringe. They are those that will not accept comfortability with this current Instagram filtered, untrustworthy existence. This is what makes authenticity so important to the empath. Connections shore this foundation. Being able to relate to someone, and so believing in someone, is of the highest importance.
In every profession there is an initial period known as paying your dues. It is weathered with the promise of coming out on the other side to an elevated sense of existence; one where you are seen, heard, appreciated, and compensated for your talent. Countless musicians spend their entire career in a purgatory of paying, and paying, and paying, never to see the precipice of recognition or comfortability. Over time, this can wear on whatever kinship they strive to feel with music listeners. Throughout, there is no revelation. Only the music itself is divine. And digital indicators merely serve to muddy the waters surrounding the mainland. Meanwhile, a single release-focused world is forcing the hand of true storytellers to part out pieces of their soul. If I could impart a bit of perspective to both the fan and the musician it would be this. A meeting of the minds is just as rare and precious as a random compliment. It’s hard for a fan to know the right words to say. And it’s hard for a musician to recognize a compliment for what it is. But any attempt at reaching out is a show of mutual support for the expressions of one another. Above all else, our ability and freedom to do this should be held in the highest regard.
As a kid, I remember seeing a cut out of a Ziggy cartoon from the Times Picayune. It was Ziggy looking up into the cosmos. And the bubble read, “In case you didn’t notice, the meek are getting creamed down here.” Like Ziggy, Jorge Caicedo is one of us, any one of us; unassuming and humbly patient. To peel back the layers is a mystery and a privilege. As we sat and talked, my mind was brought back to days of watching That Metal Show. Eddie Trunk, Don Jamieson and Jim Florentine would sit and discuss their opinions and the goings on of metal, current and past. And though it wasn’t done intentionally or with braggadocio, Eddie Trunk would hold court. Similar to Eddie Trunk, Jorge is not loud in appearance or audibility. But if it’s metal you’re talking about, he will reel you in. Any one of Jorge’s points were backed up by a handful of musicians; such to where if you couldn’t relate, you obviously didn’t know your metal.
Bassist Jorge Caicedo was born in Cali, Columbia in 1971 and moved to New Orleans when he was about three years old. He would come to settle in the 9th Ward with his mother, while his father stayed behind in Columbia. His earliest exposure to music was on the local New Orleans radio station, WTIX, playing pop and rock from the 60’s and 70’s. He would eventually begin his musical journey playing clarinet in 5th grade band. It was here that he learned theory, scales, and arpeggios, and get to play in a marching band. He would move onto guitar just as he began attending high school. By this time, he was living in Arabi, Louisiana and attending Holy Cross. While at Holy Cross, he could be found hanging out with the metal heads. He recalls being a big fan of bands like Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Motley Crue. Perhaps it was more of a testament to his nature than his chosen music styles. But I found it ironic that, at this time in his life, he took a liking to jazz music. Around the time he was sixteen, Jorge had parted ways with the clarinet moving on to guitar, bass, and a focus on thrash metal. It turned out the attraction for him could be found in thrash as well as jazz. He enjoyed listening to music that was different or experimental; music where the artist was clearly venturing outside their comfort zone. And he tended to steer clear of music that was obviously a clone of someone else’s sound. In this light, his favorite guitarist at the time was Allen Holdsworth, who frequently used advanced music theory concepts. And he was a fan of King Crimson’s early material, as well as Steve Morrison, Maja Vishnu Orchestra, and Chick Corea.
By now, he was graduating high school and discovering the local music scene. And what an introduction it was. In May of 1989, he was one of the many in the audience at Storyville Jazz Hall to see Eyehategod, Soilent Green, and Exhorder. He was quick to recall these facts from so long ago. And I could tell it was an experience that resonated with him. The experience was raw. All of these bands had yet to release a studio recorded album. Eyehategod had a self-released demo, Garden Dwarf Woman Driver. And Exhorder had two of the same with Slaughter in the Vatican & Get Rude (Slaughter in the Vatican, the official studio album would be released on Roadrunner Records the following year). But the experience never left Jorge. On the contrary, he was hooked. He would stick with guitar until the year 2000, when he picked up a bass and began playing… you guessed it, thrash. Surprisingly, he started out on a fretless bass. When visiting in the Marigny, he would always pick up his friend’s Yamaha RBX80 and noodle around. He would later reveal that it mesmerized him. He couldn’t believe the action he was seeing from some of its extreme thrash players like Steve DiGiorgio (Sadus, Death, Autopsy, Testament, and 26 others). His friend finally insisted he take it home. This gave him the courage to actually start out on fretless. Most start out on fretted being that it’s easier to learn. But he was drawn to fretless because of its nuance and unique sound when played. He enjoyed the different techniques that it offered like being able to slide harmonics. Once he got his chops up, Jorge liked to attend open mic nights at places like The Turtle Lounge and Mid-City Rock and Bowl and try things out on stage. These experiences ushered him into a fondness for blues, expanding his musical tastes yet again. The open mic nights he typically encountered were centered around blues and gave him time outside of thrash on the strings. Another element of his musical expansion was the time he spent with local Latin band Vivaz (previously Acoustic Swiftness). He would work the door for them at Café Brazil on Frenchmen St. and help them set up their gear. Oddly enough, this was his main exposure to Hispanic genres. His father, whom remained in Columbia, spoke fluent Spanish. And he left Columbia at such a young age that its musical influences hadn’t had time to set in. But working with this band gave him an appreciation of genres like salsa and merengue. He found the clave style and percussion to be a powerful proponent and driving force.
Jorge would join his first band around 2008, an alternative rock band going by the name Vice. Following that he would join a band more in his style, Built to Destroy. Built to Destroy was more of a technical thrash band and provided him a space where he could really show his abilities. In speaking with Jorge, one can quickly pick up on how detail oriented he is. And this bleeds through into his playing style even to this day. We’re talking about a guy who, during Hurricane Katrina, bought a copy of a Fender Jazz bass, replaced the pickups with EMG jazz pickups, and used that to consume two Jaco Pastorius books. And for those of you not familiar, Jaco was a jazz bassist, composer, producer and member of Weather Report. He’s long been revered as one of the greatest bassists of all time; not easy material to emulate in the least. Jorge would also join and play with The Great Void during this time. All of this hard work and attention to detail paid off for Jorge through random circumstances one night when Malevolent Creation was in town playing at The Bar in Fat City. Happenstance and preparation would lead to the opportunity of a lifetime. Jorge recalls, “I think the way I got the gig, I’m convinced, was that the band Malevolent Creation from Florida, they were playing a show at a venue in Fat City at the time called The Bar. Which used to be Ski Lodge. The promoter hit me up, he’s like ‘Hey dude, we need an opening band. Can you guys do it?’ And so, I hit up my guys (Built to Destroy). I’m like, we’re opening for Malevolent. Let’s do it. So, we did it and Kyle (singer, Exhorder) and Vinnie (guitarist, Exhorder) were there because Malevolent was on Roadrunner Records, as was Exhorder. And they saw us play.” Less than a year later, Exhorder’s bassist, Frankie Sparcello would pass away of unknown circumstances. Being familiar with Jorge’s talent, he was chosen to fill in on bass. But the Exhorder dates clashed with dates Jorge had booked with his bands. One in particular was a night he would be pulling double-duty. The Great Void and Built to Destroy were scheduled to play on the same night at Siberia in New Orleans. “And I told the guys, I said look, Exhorder wants me to do some shows in Texas with Rigor Mortis. I said, I’m taking the gig. They weren’t too crazy about it. But they understood. And then after we did a few shows there, a month or two later we did the Marylin Death Fest. We co-headlined with Viovod. Which was kind of a dream come true.” When Jorge landed that gig and played at Marylin Death Fest, he became part of something huge. That event is arguably the biggest event of its kind in North America, attracting attendees from more than 40 U.S. states and 25 countries every year.
Nowadays Jorge is a member in several bands and is focused on composing new material for MIMIC, a prog rock band he formed with Apollo Xydias of Heraklion. Apollo is on guitar and vocals while Jorge plays bass and programs drums. And they’ve just released a new EP. He’s extremely proud of the fact that his bands, both past and present, are unique. They don’t sound like anything out there, locally or otherwise. He also gives bass lessons independently and is sponsored by Bartolini, a company based in San Luis Obispo, California, that builds pickups and electronics for some of the most respected luthiers around the world. He remains current on social, including a series of Instagram videos demonstrating his talent on bass via unlikely coverings of works by Randy Rhodes, Bach, Beethoven, and a really cool translation of the keyboard and guitar from Liquid Tension Experiment. He chooses some pieces based on their melodic sense, while others he highlights mainly for the challenge. We talked about so much in our interview that it was hard to cover it all here. Being such a resource for music trivia and history, our discussion was loaded with call backs to happenings amongst bands, both local and global. And we also discussed his release strategy for his current EP and upcoming album under Mimic. You can find our podcast episode with Jorge Caicedo by clicking your favorite streaming service icon below. And you can also keep up to date on his current media by using the links below.
To be painfully honest, excess seemed to be the goal of my life while growing up; the most booze, the most parties, the most drugs, the most women. Slowly, my life began to become the locust swarm. I existed to consume and move on, until I was satiated or unconscious. But somewhere along the way, my quest for quantity gave way to quality. Upon reflection, my past had become a misguided detour. And all those allies who shared in my crusade, liars. I began cutting people out in pursuit of the answers to unending questions. Who am I? What do I want out of life? Why are the things that I want and the things that I truly need always at odds? Looking back, although traumatic in nature, I believe this to be an integral part of growing up; maturation at its essence. Through our talks, I believe this to be the crux of Vinnie La Bella. But Vinnie La Bella consumed for a reason that would land him on stages in front of hundreds of thousands. He moved for what was to be an organism that would usher him around the globe. The desire, the intensity, and the results would maturate rewards and costs of epidemic proportions, leaving physical and moral values lying in limbo.
Vinnie grew up in University City, a small neighborhood in Kenner, Louisiana bordering several suburbs and one veritable marshland. His father was a singer in a cover band that played mostly top 40 hits of the time. Being around musicians as far back as he can remember, the set-ups for practice, the camaraderie, and the grown banter were some of the appeals that drew him in. He can recall his father bringing home the Fandango! album by ZZ Top to learn a song and falling in love with that album. Between sneaking playtime with the guitar of his father’s bandmate, and classes in jazz theory, his love for guitar was solidified as early as eight years old. By the time he was eleven, he had learned enough to feel comfortable on the thing. It started to occur to him that this was something he could actually do for a living, perhaps in part, because of his father’s influence. But the mechanics of play had definitely become more familiar with time. And in time, nothing would move him more. His parents divorced when he was fourteen. And by age fifteen he was living with his mother on Hessemer Avenue in Fat City. Up until this point, guitar had helped to solidify a foundation between him and his father. So, to hear him tell it, his parents’ parting of ways didn’t really bother him. But he did, however, take advantage of his new digs. In the 80’s, Fat City was still a bustling neighborhood full of bars with live music. And at fifteen, Vinnie was beginning to establish roots of his own. Fat City would serve as a fertile medium to facilitate his growth; both as a young man and a budding musician.
For all intents and purposes, Vinnie was a loner. With just enough people he called “friends” counted on one hand, he was resolved to explore the world on his own. This translated into a person that possibly grew up too quick. He would quit school early to become a hustler, and admits he may have squandered opportunities. A reckless lifestyle would prove a comfortable place for him to exist. And those who were there know Fat City could give you all you could eat. From where he lived with his mother, 17th Street was just a two-minute walk. “Now the walks to the bar were always nice and clean. The walks back got interesting. You know, I woke up in a few alleys along the way, ten o’clock the next morning. But that was the stomping ground”. Though stumbling at times through life, he always seemed to fall in the right direction. And even his vices would prove of value. Fat City is where he met Kirk Windstein (Crowbar). It’s where he met Phil Anselmo (Pantera, Down, Superjoint Ritual, Necrophagia, etc). It’s where he met Andy Villafarra and David Main, with whom he would go on to form Exhorder. Fat City is where he played his first show in a cover band called Sabotage. And it also served as the place where he would draw a line in the sand. But before his own assertions, he would need confirmation elsewhere; confirmation that his suspicions were correct.
Speaking strictly from personal perspective I can tell you that there’s always been a voice inside my head. Maybe not so much a voice; it’s more like an inaudible message center. We’re all born with it in fact. In some, it’s just louder than in others. In our latter years, we learn of it to be the Id. It’s a part of the psyche, residing in the unconscious, that is the source of instinctive impulses. It wants nothing more than to be satisfied but is constantly modified by the ego and the superego before being given overt expression. It provides all of the energy for, and is the driving force of, personality. Unto itself, it has no organization. Being guided by his vices, seemingly falling in the right direction at times when his Ego or Superego would shine through, brought Vinnie to a defining moment in his life. Through this guiding force, Vinnie would often find himself venturing outside of the microcosm that was Fat City. One of those destinations was uptown New Orleans where hardcore and punk were prominent. This was a breeding ground for those that shunned society and smeared the edge. Sonic exploration was not only prominent. Here it was a prerequisite which fed Vinnie’s Id. “I remember walking out there for the first time, like, going to Jed’s. It was on like, Oak Street or Maple; right down the street from Jimmy’s Music Club. And that’s where they would have the punk and hardcore activity weekends. That was basically where we would all go. So, Circle Jerks played, Black Flag, I got to see all them bands… Dead Kennedys. And we would go over there and start hanging over there and noticing woah, this is a totally different world. Not only musically but, you don’t play cover songs out here. No band gets up there and plays a Black Flag song. You would probably get tomatoes thrown at you. You had to be an original thing offering something to the scene, being part of the culture, and growing”. This confirmed to him that the scene in Metairie really had grown stale. Metairie had the Ratts and the Poisons of cover bands. It had mostly become a hairspray haven where leotard clad man boys were chasing a path that had already been, by now, cliched. Punk and hardcore influenced thrash in metal. And cover bands influenced… nothing.
On campus at Tulane University is a radio station, WTUL. And back then, on the weekends, it would host a metal night one evening and a hardcore night on the other. Vinnie would also venture out there to a basement where the radio station was housed, bearing any goodies he may have procured throughout the evening. Two brothers were DJs. And together with Vinnie and friends they would pass around records, discussing them and giving them a spin. These uptown experiences, at the radio station and at live shows, were the building blocks upon which Vinnie’s own first band was founded. It would be the Id, his Id, incarnate. It would be proof positive that a dissention from what had become the norm of his environment was not only in order. It was necessary to avoid furthering apparent necrosing. Things would come to a head one evening in the dressing room before a performance with his first band, ironically named, Sabotage. “I was basically given an ultimatum in that band. I was in the dressing room. We were about to play a show and I was thrown some garments. ‘Here, wear these tonight’. And when I looked at these garments I was like, I can’t go out there like this. And he said ‘well you have to or you’re out this band’. And I said well, I’ll be out this band then… tonight mother fucker. ‘Aight, aight well you don’t have to wear that’. So, that was the last show I played with them”. This wasn’t at all about cover bands. Vinnie respected cover bands. His father was in a cover band. At one time, he even subbed guitar for a cover band when he was asked to bail out a friend in need. He was handed a list of one hundred and fifty songs to learn with two weeks to learn them. But again, having seen what the hardcore scene was like, and knowing it was more the direction he wanted to move in, left him with little vested in what things had become. And ever the hustler, he would soon take members of that band with him.
Establishing himself in a fishbowl of clones would not prove easy. Though he could see the gateway from his doorstep, anything west of New Orleans was just, not New Orleans. And Fat City was the fishbowl of not New Orleans. To become a deflection in this biosphere meant facing backlash. And staking one’s claim sometimes meant going on the offensive. “I was kind of frowned upon. And it caused a lot of beefs. I was an asshole man. And I would make fun of guys for doing it after a while because they were making fun of me for hanging out with the punks. So, it got to be a lifestyle kind of thing. You know, like I’m willing to whip your ass over this shit. That’s how deep we were into this. If you talked bad about Exhorder in the 80’s, you might not be around today talking about it. I’m serious. We were fucking assholes man”. The same guys that would say you’ll never make a dime doing that or the chicks will never listen to that were the same guys who would eventually break out of this redundant mecca. But latency meant they would have a new band to follow. In retrospect, Vinnie feels as though it would have behooved those people to pivot sooner than later. A lot of great talent was born out of the moment when they finally steered clear of mimicking the hair bands of that bygone era. But at that time, he felt as though he was defending his honor. At any rate, once he left that band and this scene, there was no turning back.
Writing for Slaughter in the Vatican would start almost immediately, but with only Vinnie and Andy Villafara, it would be an arduous task. David Main would soon follow suit leaving Sabotage. And the better part of a year would pass while writing and securing a permanent lineup. But throughout it all and no matter what, hardcore music had entranced Vinnie. He would rather die than see himself end up where he was headed. Music and life had become synonymous. And both, in Vinnie’s eyes, were secondary to this alliance. Given his proclivity for extremes and his perception that Exhorder was more like a gang than a band, things would become violent at times. Being that the foundation of this band was forged in contrast to everything out there, opposition could be found everywhere; even within the band itself. “To be honest man, I wasn’t the only lunatic in the band. I mean, these guys were legitimate fuck-ups man. We were all fucking nuts. I got in a fight with my drummer over some bullshit, year one. I kicked his fucking door down. I ended up going to jail and doing community service. So that’s kind of how we started; out of just anger and violence. And we were taking it out on our instruments and just making a hell of a noise musically about it. After that little scuffle with Chris, him, Kyle, and David left”. This would be the first of several partings for Exhorder. And the band was still so new, to themselves as well as everyone else. This occurred in late 1987. Their very first gig was just the year before on Franklin Avenue in 1986. At this point in time, they had yet to finish recording the demos for Slaughter in the Vatican. The process of rebuilding would go on for a year. During that time, Jay Ceravalo (rhythm guitar) would enter the picture.
At best, Jay was an aspiring guitarist. But Vinnie saw a bit of himself in Jay; the air of tenacity. So, he made a deal with him. Vinnie affirmed, “Bra, I’ll give you six months. If you can play this shit… and I will help you. I’ll come and show you. I will make you tapes and whatever you need. If you can do this shit you’ve got the job. And that’s when he got rid of his old lady, he quit his job and locked himself in a room. So, at the time it’s just me, Andy, and Jay trying to put some semblance of Exhorder back together”. Through this process, Jay would risk (and lose) most everything. He turned his back on a secure job with the city of Kenner, his parents kicked him out. Above all else, Vinnie recognized the loyalty and dedication and never forgot it. Sid Montz (Victorian Blitz, Crowbar, Valume Nob, Southern Isolation) would come in on drums about this time. But Vinnie still had to find a singer. One day in early 1989, Sid called Vinnie with some news. Vinnie recalls, “This is a good piece of history that I’ve never told anybody. But it’s important to where we land in this later. He (Sid) says listen man I talked to Phil (Anselmo). He’s not happy with his current situation. He wants to do something heavier and he can’t get the guys to get on board. So, he wants to come try out. So, I called him and said try out? There ain’t no fucking try out. You’re Phil. You can do this. You’re bad, you know? You’ve got the gig. Come home. He’s like no no no, I want to do it right. I’m going to fly in and try out. And I’ll come back and we’ll finish it. I said, ok. So, he came down and was as good as you thought he would be. I said I told you. You wasted your plane ticket. You got the gig! So, I put this mother fucker on an airplane right after rehearsal. He’s flying back to Dallas and he’s going home to quit Pantera. Now by this time Power Metal was the last thing they had released. The sound was still… the sound. So anyway, he’s in the air. I drive home from the airport. I walk into the house and the phone is ringing. I pick up the phone, it’s Kyle. I hadn’t heard from this mother fucker in a year. I haven’t seen him. I haven’t talked to him. He goes, hey man I heard you had Phillip in the room. I said what are you talking about? I haven’t talked to you in a year! How’d you know? He says, I wanna come back. I said he’s in the air right now! He’s going home to quit! So, I said dude let me call you back. I hung up the phone. I called up Jay and I said this mother fucker’s calling me. He’s like bro, it’s your call. So, I thought about it for a second, and I did the right thing. I said absolutely Kyle; come on home. We wrote these songs together. You’re the only mother fucker I can envision singing for this thing. I said, you got it. I just need to stop him (Phil) from fucking his own thing up. So, I said let me see what I can do. So, I called over there and Phil wasn’t upset or anything. He was actually pretty happy. He said ‘that’s good news. I’m disappointed because I really wanted to give it a go with you. But, I’m glad he’s back”. With Kyle back, Chris Nail would once again take over on drums. Anselmo would go on to record the famed Cowboys From Hell album with Pantera. And Exhorder would complete Slaughter in the Vatican, getting signed to Roadrunner Records. The what-ifs that ran through my head at this point in the interview came flooding in.
But tumultuous times were not behind the band. The signing was merely a piece to a puzzle that was never quite complete. Sure, they had remained in New Orleans, besting the labels turning them down left and right claiming that they needed to get out of New Orleans in order to make it. And one must realize this was the 80’s. This was the Regan era where shoulder pads and rampant consumerism dominated the arena. Even when they were finally signed, their first album came out mischaracterizing them as a ‘brutal thrash band from the depths of the swamp in Louisiana’. Their propensity for violence was getting them thrown off tours. This was no help either. But they knew they were on to something good. And this all would open up the door for many more out the south; a region negated as illegitimate in the world of musical significance. Between inner band tensions and music business complications, by the time The Law was released in 1992, the group was more than worse for wear. Vinnie had a baby. Chris was getting married. None of them could hold one another together or ever align their ways with normative business practices. Passion holds no court with principals. Principals are societally based. And passion is otherworldly. Exhorder would once again disband. Make-ups and break-ups would be scattered throughout the coming years. A turbulent giant would be remitted to a twenty-seven-year recording dormancy. In 2017, through specifics not revealed, Vinnie and Kyle would reunite for the last time, culminating in Exhorder’s 2019 release entitled Mourn the Southern Skies. It would be produced and engineered at OCD Recording & Production by Duane Simineaux under Nuclear Blast, one of the world’s largest independent metal labels. It is by far, in my opinion, the greatest work ever to come from Exhorder. Which at this point housed only two of its founding members. It would also mark the last time Vinnie would ever play with the band he started. “We tried to put it back together a couple of times. This last time the table was set pretty good. We had a good shot and it was working. We ended up in a dispute as usual. And this time the only original guys left were me and Kyle. The dispute was basically between me and him. It was basically over two bullet points that he just couldn’t get past, and I couldn’t get past. And finally, I was like fuck it. Hey if you want it this bad bro, take it. But you’re going to get your wallet out this time. Because a lot of times they leave me sitting there with the bill”. He went on to point out, “It is of my opinion that he, at this particular moment, probably hates my fucking guts. He won’t say it in the media but he probably does. It’s my opinion. I could be wrong. But five years, seven years, eight years from now you know, who knows”. They were maturing in the midst of this all. Their needs changed over time. With only two founding members remaining, what was considered Exhorder had changed as well. “Whenever Exhorder would break up in the past, we would just lay it to rest. Nobody owned the trademark or the copyrights or anything to that name. It just sat there. And it would always sit there until most of us, or all of us, decided to do it again. And it was always home base for us. If we ever wanted to make something of that thing we built when we were kids, it was always there for us. And it started when I said… yes”. Vinnie reflected on the Phil Anselmo story here, citing it as a moment in time that should’ve reinforced a standing precedence for the band. When it came to Kyle’s desires to return, he didn’t mull it over. He simply said yes. But this time, through communications with his lawyer, he was confronted by a standing vote to oust him. The organism would no longer be the sum of its parts.
These days, Vinnie remains deeply involved in music. He has established roots in production, and continues with recording and composition. Among his many projects, you will hear his work on Kirk Windstein’s upcoming second solo album, projected to be released possibly this fall. He went on to talk about that experience, as well the many projects that he’s currently involved in. You can hear this info first-hand and the details surrounding his life in music on our podcast by picking your streaming platform of choice below. Please be sure to subscribe, as this keeps our musicians’ names in the wind and gives our show a greater voice.
