Crowbar's Kirk Windstein Is an Eternal Optimist

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Crowbar's Kirk Windstein Is an Eternal Optimist

With 11 Crowbar albums down and who knows how many more to go, the sludge godfather reflects on living hard, slowing down, and enjoying the moment.

Kirk Windstein is a man who's seen some shit. You can see it in his eyes, in that flowing, gray-streaked beard and in the low, thoughtful rumble of his voice—a voice that bears both a warm, syrupy New Orleans drawl and a weathered hoarseness earned after years and years of strain. His band, Crowbar, has been an institution for about as long as I've been alive; I remember flying down to New Orleans to see their 20th anniversary show back in 2008, and it's hard to believe that they're edging closer to their 30th now.

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The power remains, and the ambition—the drive—does, too. Crowbar is about to release their 11th studio album, The Serpent Only Lies, on October 28 via eOne and Windstein is in fine fettle. I've never really known him to be in a bad mood, even when we toured together back in 2011 on the grueling Metal Alliance tour. Much has changed for Windstein and the band since then, and he seems to be reveling in the stability and slower pace that a few years and a lot of growth have brought him. He radiates a kind of quiet peace, joy, even—perhaps not what one might expect to encounter from the burly frontman, but palpable nonetheless.

When I meet up with him, he's on the road, again. It seems like Crowbar is always on tour—Windstein counts four times they've rolled through NYC alone in recent memory—but that's nothing compared to the double- and sometimes triple-duty Windstein used to pull when he was playing in doomy supergroups  Down and Kingdom of Sorrow. Compared to those manic years, he's taking it pretty damn easy now.

Despite the rigors of heavy touring and the fact that he's already put in a full day of work, Windstein is as genial and chatty as ever, and is game to talk about everything from religion to riffs to his drinking habits. We settled down into the cracked leather sofa that holds pride of place in the Saint Vitus basement, and got to yapping.

Noisey: So, hey!
Kirk Windstein: How have you been?

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I've been doing good. I'm all domesticated. I've got a day job, and a dog, and am still with the same dude you met awhile ago. I've grown up a little bit.
Same with me. It's water and beer, mostly. I try to eat good, don't work out so much but I take a fuckload of supplements. We're trying to do the "family chill" thing at home. We're kind of going out half the time, and home half the time. It's working.

It seems like you have a much healthier routine now that you're in one band.
It's so much easier. There was one stretch in 2011 where I went out with Crowbar for a month, had a week off, went with Down for a month, had like ten days off, and then did that Mayhem Fest with Kingdom of Sorrow, which was like 40 days. When I got back from that, even though I barely drank [shakes head]. [Jamey] Jasta was like, 'After the shows and the signings and the interviews are done, then you can have some beer.' He's like, 'You owe it to me!' and I was like, 'You know what, you're right. I'll drink O'Douls and water all day…do all my shit sober and proper." Nobody else in the band drinks or anything.

 I remember that phrase you used to have—"O'Douls for the Old Fool."
"Have a cold one with the old one" and all that shit.

You're full of soundbites. At this point, you're on your  eleventh record. That's so many. Did you ever think you'd get to this point?
It took different paths of course, but it has ended up what I wanted at the beginning. I never wanted to be a rich and famous rock star. I wanted longevity and the ability to play music. I wanted to make a living playing my music, and that's what I'm able to do. I'm very thankful for that.

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That's like the Motörhead model.
That's my thing! Slow and steady, it's not a race. We're not changing. We've survived every genre you can imagine: from the late 80s through every genre and subgenre they have going on today. I call it "Mall Rock," like at Hot Topic. All this stuff I'm too old for. We just do what we do and it works. We treat our fans great, we kick ass on stage every night. We put out killer records and we keep rolling.

People still want to hear Crowbar. That's a very special thing. Most bands don't pull that off after this long.
It's peaks and valleys in this industry, musically as to what's genre's hot and in the moment. The important thing is to not even give a fuck about those peaks and valleys. Just keep doing what you're doing and if you can survive the valleys…it's about keeping it rolling. I'm doing our fifteenth tour with Crowbar. We have had 8 of them in Europe, and 7 in the States and in Canada. We're not touring off the new record yet, because it doesn't come out until October 28. We have one track coming out in a few days. We are just working our way. We have Big Todd, Sexy T, back. We're looking forward to when we start with Overkill in Europe on November 2nd. It's nice to not go on a sabbatical for eight years. When Down was everyone's main focus, I'd open up my laptop and it's like, 'Boom! Down is going to Europe.' Then I have to cancel the Crowbar stuff. We made an agreement that Down was a number one priority. It made it kind of difficult. How was I going to make this work? Well, Down had a lot of expenses, and Crowbar doesn't.

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You've got a smaller crew now, and you've got your wife out here with you doing merch, too, right?
Yeah. The driver helps load in. We have loaders at the show. We are doing 26 shows in 28 days. We had one day off so far; other than that, we just live on the Bandwagon [bus] and play every day. We are making money every day, and our expenses are so much less. I really make about what I was making before. I do a lot more work, it's a lot harder. We're doing a lot more shows. I won't lie about that.

When we played Gas Monkey in Dallas, I went to the UPS store to pick up merch boxes with a friend of mine. We picked up 14 boxes. Corrosion of Conformity were playing with Clutch and Mastodon across the street at the big venue. Here we are with our big truck, picking up our boxes of merch, and my friend Jay asked to see if Pepper and them were around. It just so happens, here comes Woody and him out of the bus. We ended up hanging out with them after. He asked if we could hang out longer, and I was like, 'Bro, this is a DIY family business. I got work. I got to help Robin set out all this fuckin' merchandise.'  At the end of the day, it's an honest hard day's work.

By now, you've been on every level a metal band can be, from touring in a beat-up truck to headlining huge festivals.
Believe me, I'm very thankful. It's really nice when you have your own room at the Ritz Carlton. I've gotten to be the rock star type thing. Believe me, there are some days where things aren't so good; I went to UPS today and the merch company didn't send me the right stuff. I was outside, digging through boxes, getting hot. I'm sweating my ass off. During days like this, I'm like, 'Fuck I wish I was in a different situation.' I'm not young. I mean I'm 51 years old. Now that Big Todd is back, you know Sexy T, with the loaders and stuff like that…they do more than I do…but we help out. I was talking about somebody loading in, and Todd goes, 'This isn't shit! I was working on fuckin' forklifts and bobcats with no air-conditioning in the summer in New Orleans for the last 16 years.' He's like, 'This is a fuckin' joke…this is fun…this is a breeze.' When you put it like that…that's perspective.
I have a high school education, but I don't have a trade or anything. I don't know what I'd be doing if it wasn't music. It would still be hard work. I'd rather being doing hard work with something that I love, obviously.

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You also seem like you've kept your joy, which is hard. I've talked to some people in big bands that do this for work and lose that joy—this one guy from a big band told me, "I only have fun for an hour a day when I'm on stage. The rest of the time I miss my family and I'm caught in a machine." It's really sad.
I can relate to that. That's what happened when I got with [my wife] Robin. The stepson that lives with us is now 18. My daughter is 13. I have always toured heavily, even when I was married to her mom. We all lived together as a family, she calls me Papa; she knows that Papa plays guitar and sings, and travels the world. That's what he does. She lives like an hour and a half from me, we talk everyday. I don't see her that often but we have a great relationship. Her mother and I got divorced when she was four…she's 13 now. We have a great relationship, and it works out great with Robin, because I am always with her. We work together. She works her ass off. We like it like that, we like being together 24/7.

Photo by Paul Grosso

You found the right person after all the chaos.
She's one of the guys. She's also a lady but she can sling back drinks with the best of them. It works. I remember sitting in Japan with a guy that's in a very big band, and we were sitting in a bar after a show, and he's like, 'I have everything in the world in the world that I could want, why am I so miserable?' At the time I was going through my divorce. I was on the same boat as he was. Luckily I found happiness in a bunch of ways. I've changed a lot as a man and a person. I'm a lot more spiritual. I appreciate everything that I have, and not bitch about the little things. I want to appreciate all the little things that I have. Don't dwell on the negativity. I would never be friends with the person who won the lottery, and then bitch about the taxes. It's like, 'Hey motherfucker! You just won the Powerball.' If you get 200 million, you got to give 100 million away, who gives a fuck? I try to be an eternal optimist.

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When you say spiritual, are you talking about meditation, or in a more a traditional sense?
I don't consider myself that religious. I believe in God and Jesus. I grew up Catholic but I don't follow organized religions. I'm trying to be peaceful and happy, and the best person I can be. A lot of it is just positive vibes. I'm a lot like a person getting sober that needs a higher being. I'm a very upbeat person. Robin is the same kind of way, we're in that together. It's important for our relationship. You don't want to be on two different levels…it doesn't work. She was also raised Catholic and doesn't follow it.

I was raised Catholic too. You sit in Church and have it beat into you.
They're trying to scare you. Your way to heaven is through guilt. If you go to confession, which I think is absolutely ridiculous…if you want to confess something, confess it to God. Why do you have to go through the humility of telling another guy your sins?

A few songs on the new album seem to touch on that spiritual side. Do you ever worry about putting yourself out there like that, and getting more personal?
Not really. I'm one of them guys…I wear my heart on my sleeve. Love me or hate me, it doesn't ruin my day. I try to be genuine and nice. I try to help everybody out. And if you don't like it, we're not going to get along and that's fine. I'm not going to lose sleep over it. I do put a lot out there. I try to be very careful about it. I don't want to scare off anybody. That's why I make sure I'm adamant in an interview—I want people to understand that I'm not some holy roller. Whatever you are, that's fine. I have friends that are everything. This works for me, if it works for you and makes you happy, I'm proud of you. I just speak how I feel.

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Even with things like Facebook, you're so involved with your fans on there. Your whole Facebook page is your fans talking about Crowbar.
We have found so many people who are friends now all over the world. These guys are like superfans. We'll literally Skype with them. A guy from Brazil asked if he could get a letter from me as inspiration to play guitar. I sat down and wrote it, Robin took a few pictures of me writing it, signed a bunch of shit and sent this care package to Brazil. It made the dude's world! That's such a simple gesture, but it means so much to that guy. Lemmy was like one of those people. When I was recording for Down, Pepper and I would go up to the Rainbow after the studio, and he'd be nice as fuck. He'd be chilling with a beer, got his whiskey and cigarette, just talking. I want to be approachable. It meant a lot to me to talk to Lemmy…to meet someone that you look up to.

Like Dio, too. When we did the Heaven and Hell Tour in Australia with Down, we'd fly everywhere. We were on the same flights, taken the same shuttle busses. We got to see them every day. We were flying from Sydney to Auckland, New Zealand for the last part of the tour. We were all hanging out, and the plane was delayed for hours. It ended up just being me and Ronnie for the last hour before we boarded. We were getting pretty drunk. I kept trying to buy him a drink. We had this really long, in-depth talk. He gave me his email and everything, and then we landed in LAX. We got our luggage, I go to shake his hand and he gives me a hug and goes, 'God bless you, son.'

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It's got to be a bit weird knowing that you occupy that slot with some people. I've seen people with your signature tattooed on them. How do you even know who you are in the world when you're looked at in this way by so many people?
I'm just trying to downplay it. My daughter knows. I remember the first time Robin met my daughter; we went out to lunch and we went to the mall. We were at Hot Topic. I had 2 or 3 people recognize me. They asked for a picture and my daughter got a huge kick out of it. She was all proud. So we go into fuckin' Hot Topic, and I had done guest vocals on an Acacia Strain song. I'm listening, and I'm like, 'Wait a minute, this sounds like me.' I went up and asked the guy if it was that song, and he goes, 'Yeah.' My daughter goes, 'Wow, Papa, you're a rock star!' I've made a lot of friends that are really big fans. That's what I try to do.

So many of the New Orleans dudes are like that; you seem like people you can sit down and have a beer with. Maybe it's a Southern thing. 
It's funny about the Southern thing. We were in Albany, New York last night. After the show I'm ordering a pizza, I'm telling the lady what I want and I accidentally called the lady 'ma'am. 'She was mad. I mean, even when I'm driving through Wendy's ordering a Coke I say ma'am, even if the server is like sixteen. Me and Sexy T were trying to tell her that. She wasn't mean, but she was like "My name's Kim. You can call me Honeybun or whatever…but don't call me ma'am.'

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Yeah, it's different up here. It makes me feel old when people me 'ma'am.' Whenever it happens, I can't help but think, 'What the fuck? What's wrong with you?'
I'll never forget the first time someone called me 'sir.' It was a younger kid, about 20. I bumped into him. And he said, 'Excuse me, sir.' Now it's normal. I got my AARP card. I've accepted that I'm 51. I feel good though. I've made a lot of positive changes in my life in the last four years.

I'm 28 and I'm not sure if I could do what you do.
I get tired. But somehow, no matter what, when it's time to hit the stage I'm 15 years old again. It may be a kind of shot show, or not that big of a crowd, [but] once I get on stage, I'm not like, 'Oh, I don't want to be here.' If I'm feeling fine and I'm up on stage, I'm the same person I was when I was up on stage doing cover songs. If you have true love and passion for music, it's honest and it's real. When you hit the stage, it's like you're a little kid again. It gives my old ass a burst of energy. That and a Red Bull. That's my new cocaine. I pound one in about 30 seconds.

What would it take to make you want to stop at this point? Do you want to be Black Sabbath in 20 years?
I want to do what Lemmy did. Unfortunately for him, the last two years weren't very pleasant.  But he did it. He said, in some older interview, that he's going to 'do it as long as he can fuckin' do it. I've seen retirement…it's boring.' I thought of that last night. I have to work for the rest of my life; I'm going to do it for as long as I can possibly do it. I may end up being a fuckin' Walmart greeter…but today's today. Crowbar has a song called "New Dawn," and it's like that; you have to wake up one day and live in the present.

I guess you have to keep moving forward…there isn't exactly a heavy metal retirement plan.
I don't have social security. I mean, we live tour to tour. At home, it's a stable foundation and we kind of have a plan of what we want to do when we get older. It's today. The only gig that comes right now is the one tonight. All of my craziness has lined up and it works. I think a lot differently now than I used to.

It seems like you got all your demons out years ago.
 Almost. As far as over the top, hard living, and drugs and stuff…I'm done with that. I still drink a lot of beer. Too much. My knees are killing me. When I get home, I try and chill. Everyday is different. I'll see guys I grew up with, dudes from grammar school, and they tell me that they remember this is what I've always wanted to do. They ask me what it's like, and I tell them that it's really simple, it's the same thing every day but completely different. It's load in, doors…you know the game. The venue's different, the sound system is different. The set times are different…the crowds are different. In reality it's the same thing. The reason that it's not monotonous is that it isn't the same thing everyday.

Last night in Albany we knew we had a lot of press. I told Robin I had to go to bed early. Because I'm so busy all day, I now realize, with Down, I didn't have to do a thing until I was on stage at 9 o'clock at night. I'm better off playing and having a lot of responsibility. That keeps me in line. Keep the hands well oiled. I've been there with two idle hands, a pocket full of money, and a lot of boredom…it leads to nothing good.

Does getting up on stage in front of all these people ever make you afraid, especially with how crazy the world's gotten?
You can't be. I was talking with Matt Pike—we did a short tour with High on Fire in December of last year—and they played Paris three days after the Eagles of Death Metal thing. Matt was like, 'I looked at Des, because he's got a family; I asked him if he was up for it, and he was like, "why not?"' It's all in your mind a lot. Occasionally you have a weird character that rubs you the wrong way, but that's not very often. They're everywhere. They have a plan, these terrorists. It could happen anywhere, anytime. You hope and pray for the best. You can't really be scared, you just have to try and make sure the venue takes proper precautions, that everything is safe and fine.

You can't live in fear. If you lived in fear, you certainly couldn't be in a rock 'n roll band.
We started to expand, like a lot of other bands have, into Eastern Europe and Russia. We play Serbia and Bosnia and Bulgaria and Romania and Russia—it's a little weird and a little different, but ultimately you can't be scared. These people are diehard fans. It's all new to them. They're just getting used to it. Germany, I call it 'Normal Europe,' they have been getting it forever, but when you play Romania, this is all new to them. When we played in Russia it was like 800 kids. I had to hide in the dressing room. When they opened the doors, it was like an old 70s concert. The kids were screaming, they ran full speed to the barricade. We signed stuff and took pictures with them, it took like an hour. People are crying during the show and singing the words; it's very moving.

Metal is still very powerful…we take it for granted here.
Especially in those types of countries…you realize how lucky you are. People like that, who come out to the shows, we try and sell them merch as cheap as possible. I'll give them a couple of free things. Give them tons of guitar picks, whatever to make their day better. They struggle to even buy the tickets. It's tough in a lot of those countries. It's very fulfilling to play those kinds of places.

You never know if you're going to inspire the next Kirk Windstein.
That's the truth. God forbid!

Cover photo by Jimmy Hubbard Kim Kelly is an editor at Noisey; she's watching planets collide on Twitter.