Wylde with a leather fedora and
a Les Paul with his trademark bull’seye
pattern
inlaid with mother of pearl.
Photo by Clay Patrick McBride
Almost 25 years after Ozzy Osbourne listened
to Zakk Wylde’s mailed-in audition
cassette and asked him to join his band,
Wylde remains an inspiration to thousands of
players around the world. And that’s due to
his underdog tale as much as it is to his distinctive
playing—including his much-copied
pinched-harmonic squeals, which are now a
staple throughout metal. Thanks to Wylde,
guitarists know to aim high, shoot for the
moon, and expect the impossible. During
the past two and a half decades, Wylde
has squandered none of the opportunity he
was given. He has contributed guitar to five
Osbourne albums, including the late-period
Oz classic
No Rest for the Wicked, and cut
10 albums with his own Black Label Society.
Wylde’s intense drive as a player, and
even as a businessman, has made him a
larger-than-life figure among contemporary
metal and heavy-rock guitarists. And his
influence has spread well beyond the realms
of metal and shred, as a listen to any Alice
in Chains record reveals. His image is that
of a leather-and-denim-clad Viking wielding
a bull’s-eye Les Paul. But behind the stage
persona is a musician with chops that transcend
metal and a voracious appetite for
creating larger-than-life sounds.
Gregarious, gentlemanly, and unflappably
psyched, Wylde took time out on the eve
of his band’s new tour in support of
Order
of the Black to share his thoughts about
producing big sounds, the new Black Label
Bunker studio, songwriting inspiration, and
how to get the collective goat of the Allman
Brothers Band.
With Order of the Black, you and Black
Label Society have become a very self-contained
unit. From production to playing,
you guys are doing this on your own.
Oh yeah, man. I’m really proud of this
record, sonically. Because we just did it in
the new studio, the Black Label Bunker, and
it sounds insane. I’ve been telling people,
“If you ever want to hear what a Marshall
JCM800 sounds like—just buy this album.”
We nailed that sound!
It sounds like you guys have become very
resourceful in the studio.
I don’t understand why you wouldn’t do it
that way. Or at least be interested in doing it
that way. All you have to do is look at Jimmy
Page. I mean, if you weren’t already blown
away by Page as a writer and guitar player,
well, then you find out he’s producing the
records, mixing the records, involved in the
artwork. It’s amazing. Once you get on a roll
like that, what producer would want to try to
produce Led Zeppelin? It’d be like trying to
coach Michael Jordan or something. The best
thing you can do is just stay out of the way!
Doing things ourselves lets the band be
the band. These are talented musicians
I’m working with, and we really just need
someone to hit record and make sure we’re
getting things down. If you believe in and
know where you’re going, you don’t need
to ask for directions. So a great engineer is
what I need. You should be your own worst
critic. The records are a document that lasts
forever, so we’re going to do whatever we
need to do to get something right. The
final result is all that matters. And that’s a
beautiful thing.
After being such a road dog for so long,
has the studio started to take on greater
appeal?
The running joke
around the bunker is
that we should turn
Black Label Society
into Steely Dan—just
make records and never
tour. I love it. It’s like
watching my 8-year-old
sit there with a thousand
crayons and a blank sheet
of paper. The studio is my
version of that—a big box
of crayons. It’s really set up
to sound great and be ready to
capture whatever color we want to
mess with, whether it’s a grand piano,
a wall of Marshalls, or an acoustic guitar.
And it’s so much fun to bring those elements
together just the way you want because
you’ve set them up to sound amazing. The
studio, and the whole experience of being
there, is awesome.
Do all the possibilities ever test your sense
of discipline?
No. You can’t get too caught up in it, even
though the possibilities are exciting. You
have to accept that, down the line, you’re
going to wish you had done some things
differently and keep moving. I’m sure
Jimmy Page went crazy remastering all the
Zep stuff and thinking, “Ah man, I wish
we’d done that bit differently.” Eddie Van
Halen is always going off about the part of
“Eruption” he says he totally screwed up.
Meanwhile, the rest of us are going “What
the hell are you talking about? It’s
perfect—
get over it, Eddie!”