Serving as the official theme song for Adams’ horror/fantasy novel Dead Man Walking: Narrator’s Cut (Book #1 in the Ivyverse series), the song expertly blends storytelling with sonic aggression. It marks the first of eleven tracks that will form a full soundtrack to the book, all released under Adams’ independent label, Splitting Adams Entertainment.

Influenced by the raw power of Metallica, the haunting depth of Alice in Chains, the dark riffs of Black Sabbath, and even the cinematic flair of Danny Elfman, “Dead Man Walking” delivers a compelling mix of grit and melody. The result is emotionally charged alternative metal that resonates far beyond genre boundaries, perfect for playlists that demand authenticity and intensity.

“Just a they/them out here causing may/hem,” Adams says of their creative approach. As both the producer and driving force behind the project, they have crafted a release that feels as personal as it is powerful.

“Dead Man Walking” is available now on all major streaming platforms.

About Zach Adams

Zach Adams is a fantasy writer, music maker, and general nuisance based in Anchorage, Alaska. Operating under they/them pronouns, Adams channels personal experience and dark imagination into both literature and alternative metal. Their novel Dead Man Walking: Narrator’s Cut launches the Ivyverse series, with this single serving as its sonic counterpart, the first in an 11-track soundtrack produced entirely by Adams and released via their label, Splitting Adams Entertainment.

Serving as the theme for Adams’ horror/fantasy novel Dead Man Walking: Narrator’s Cut, the track establishes the emotional pulse of its fictional world while standing confidently on its own. Drawing inspiration from Metallica, Alice in Chains, Black Sabbath, and cinematic influences, Zach Adams blends crushing guitar riffs with grunge textures and atmospheric flourishes, creating a sound that feels both expansive and unrelenting.

While the vocals lean into the genre’s raw intensity, a closer read of the lyrics reveals the song’s psychological depth. Opening with the unsettling question, “Are you asleep? Casualty of anxiety,” the narrative explores the suffocating repetition of anxious thoughts, emotional numbness, and the feeling of being trapped in time. References to “the second hand as it ticks away” reinforce that endless cycle, while the recurring declaration, “You’re a dead man walking,” serves as a powerful metaphor for living under the constant weight of fear and uncertainty. The repeated refrain, “walk alone, see double, feel nothing,” further distills those emotions into a memorable lyrical motif.

The production complements these themes with a satisfying balance of heaviness and atmosphere. Thick, distorted guitars, driving rhythms, and commanding vocals deliver plenty of impact, while melodic undercurrents keep the arrangement dynamic. Rather than relying solely on brute force, the composition steadily builds tension, allowing each section to reinforce the song’s emotional and narrative arc.

As both a standalone release and the opening chapter of an eleven-track soundtrack, Zach Adams’ “Dead Man Walking” successfully bridges music and storytelling. Dark, emotionally charged, and sonically compelling, the track offers an engaging introduction to the Ivyverse while proving that its themes resonate well beyond the pages that inspired them!

This song legitimately took me by surprise. The rhythmic displacement is unbelievable. This is an intense ride from start to finish if you zoom out, but if you zoom in, it’s like an infinite collection of ridiculously heavy sections grouped together in a way that flows perfectly. The usage of a phrase like “We’re influenced by Meshuggah” is something that gets overused quite a lot, but this is a thousand percent earned. Ten Ton Devil are able to stand on the shoulders of giants and then scream their message from the top of that mountain, and I personally hear them loud and clear.

For a studio-only project, “Tooth and Tongue” has a rawness to it that a lot of bands lose the second they try to tighten everything up in the mix. I am excited to hear what else Ten Ton Devil have in store because they have the passion and the execution to rise above the saturated metal scene.

The guitar tone has that very distinctive quality that heft that could only be achieved through playing loudly. That is the first thing that stood out to me. I thought I had put on a Black Sabbath song by accident. That is the highest praise one could give.  The bass guitar works with it beautifully. That thunderous power helps support the song’s message immensely. It’s a defiant anthem against socially embedded ideas of aging. You are not too old, you are not dead, you can still chase your dreams. It’s a powerful message and a much needed one in the digital age, where people in their 20s feel like their life has already ended.

KuF‘s making the case that age doesn’t define you, your spirit does. “I’m Not Dead” backs that up with the kind of guitar work and production that demands to be played loud. For a band pushing against the narrative that rock is for the young, they’re proving the opposite with every riff.

Born John Michael “Ozzy” Osbourne on December 3, 1948, in the industrial grit of Birmingham, England’s Aston neighborhood, Ozzy grew up in a working-class family of six siblings. His father, John Thomas, was a toolmaker, and his mother, Lillian, a homemaker, instilled values of perseverance amid post-war poverty. School was a nightmare for the dyslexic and ADHD-afflicted boy, who endured bullying, sexual abuse at age 11, and multiple suicide attempts as a teen. Expelled for truancy, Ozzy left education at 15, cycling through dead-end jobs: laborer, car horn tuner, slaughterhouse worker, and even a brief prison stint for burglary in 1965.

Music became his escape. Inspired by The Beatles’ “She Loves You” at 14, Ozzy declared, “I’m going to be a rock star the rest of my life.” He bought a guitar on hire-purchase, forming his first band, Rare Breed, in 1967 with future Sabbath bassist Geezer Butler. After it fizzled, they recruited guitarist Tony Iommi and drummer Bill Ward, initially as Polka Tulk Blues Band, then Earth—renamed Black Sabbath after a horror film marathon sparked Ozzy’s dark lyrical vision.

Black Sabbath’s self-titled 1970 debut, recorded for £500, unleashed down-tuned riffs, occult imagery, and Ozzy’s haunting wail on tracks like the title song and “The Wizard.” Paranoid (1970) followed, topping UK charts with anthems “War Pigs” (a Vietnam protest), “Iron Man,” and the title track—written in 25 minutes about anxiety. Albums like Master of Reality (1971) and Vol. 4 (1972) delved deeper into doom and drug-fueled introspection, with “Snowblind” a cocaine ode.

Tours were grueling, amplifying Ozzy’s substance abuse—alcohol, cocaine, and pills—as the “Madman of Rock” persona emerged. By Never Say Die! (1978), internal tensions peaked; Ozzy was fired in 1979 for unreliability, replaced by Ronnie James Dio. Devastated, he attempted suicide, but Sharon Arden—daughter of his manager Don Arden—saw potential, becoming his wife in 1982 and steering his solo path.

Reunions followed: 1997 Ozzfest co-headlines, 2012’s 13 album (Grammy for “God Is Dead?”), and a 2017 farewell tour. Sabbath’s influence birthed metal, inspiring Metallica, Slayer, and beyond.

Ozzy’s 1980 solo debut Blizzard of Ozz, with guitar virtuoso Randy Rhoads, exploded with “Crazy Train” and “Mr. Crowley,” selling 5 million in the US alone. Tragedy struck in 1982 when Rhoads died in a plane crash; Ozzy mourned by dedicating Diary of a Madman (1981) to him. Hits like “Bark at the Moon” (1983) and “Mama, I’m Coming Home” (1991, with Zakk Wylde) followed, alongside albums No More Tears (1991) and Ozzmosis (1995).

His stage antics—snorting ants, biting a bat’s head (thinking it fake, requiring rabies shots), and urinating on the Alamo—fueled tabloids and lawsuits, including from parents blaming “Suicide Solution” for teen deaths. Ozzfest (1996–2018), co-founded with Sharon, launched stars like Slipknot and launched Ozzy’s empire. By 2022’s Patient Number 9, his 13th solo album, he’d outsold Sabbath’s post-Ozzy output.

Ozzy’s personal life mirrored his music’s turmoil. Married to Thelma Riley from 1971–1982, he adopted son Elliot and had Jessica and Louis; drugs strained the union. With Sharon, he welcomed Aimee (1983), Kelly (1984), and Jack (1985), adopting Elliot later. Infidelity led to a 2016 separation, but they reconciled; Sharon’s 2021 cancer battle and Ozzy’s 2023 home invasion added trials.

Addiction ravaged him—decades of excess culminated in 2019 rehab and a 2020 Parkinson’s diagnosis (known since 2003). A 2019 quad bike accident fused vertebrae; by 2025, he couldn’t walk unaided, yet quipped, “I’ve got more f—ing metal in me than a scrap merchant.” Sober by May 2025, he embraced homebody life.

The Osbournes (2002–2005) humanized him, earning an Emmy and introducing his bumbling dad charm to millions. Memoirs I Am Ozzy (2009) and posthumous Last Rites (2025) chronicled his nine lives.

Ozzy’s swan song was the July 5, 2025, “Back to the Beginning” benefit at Birmingham’s Villa Park—a 10-hour spectacle with Metallica, Guns N’ Roses, Slayer, Tool, and Pantera. Delayed from 2024 by health woes, it reunited Sabbath’s original lineup (Iommi, Butler, Ward) for the first time since 2005. Rising on a throne, Ozzy delivered solo hits “I Don’t Know,” “Crazy Train,” and “Mama, I’m Coming Home,” his voice defying frailty amid rigorous therapy.

The Sabbath finale—”War Pigs,” “N.I.B.,” “Iron Man,” “Paranoid“—drew 40,000 fans and global livestream tears. “This is my full stop,” Sharon said, as murals, a museum exhibit, and Freeman honors celebrated his roots. Seventeen days later, Ozzy died peacefully at home, surrounded by family.

Ozzy’s shadow looms eternal. With Black Sabbath, he co-invented heavy metal—tritone riffs, minor keys, and apocalyptic lyrics birthing a genre that spawned Metallica, Pantera, and Slipknot. Solo, his power ballads and shock rock redefined the “Madman” archetype, outselling Sabbath’s later eras and earning dual Rock Hall inductions (2006 with band, 2007 solo).

Ranked among Rolling Stone‘s greatest singers, Ozzy’s wail—melancholy yet defiant—influenced five decades, from grunge to nu-metal. Ozzfest launched icons; The Osbournes bridged metal to pop culture. Amid controversies—Satanism accusations, PMRC censorship—his authenticity empowered outcasts.

Posthumous tributes flood in: exhibitions extended to 2026, a BBC documentary, and murals immortalize him. As Lars Ulrich said, Ozzy gave “permission to five decades of miscreants” to rage loudly. Grammy winner, icon, survivor—his nine lives reshaped music’s dark heart.

Rest in power, Ozzy.

The darkness you chased burns brighter for it.

“Not to Be Taken” sweeps you off your feet with how evil the main riff sounds. The song is more like a brief ritual than a traditional song with a structured form. The lyrics chant “It’s always there”, and your mind engages in psychedelic paranoia at the eldritch potential of that phrase. It simultaneously walks the line between being horrifying and beautiful music, which is arguably the most metal thing you can do, because that’s how it all began with the song “Black Sabbath”.

I had to highlight the song “5588” because of its hypnotic bass riff intro. With The7thGatekeeper‘s vocals in the intro, it sounds like a soft Slipknot-inspired intro, but when the drums and guitars join that bass, it starts sounding more like doom metal. It’s a really unique song, and its heaviness is tangible, not artificially manufactured. You can play this song on an acoustic guitar, and it will still sound heavy; that’s how good it is.

The heaviness lingers over the next few tracks, like “Amulet” with a more funky groove and “The Hoard” with a more grimy grunge-based sound, with even some of that ambient experimentation coming back in. “Baryon li” serves as the harbinger of the second half of this album, as it’s a short instrumental reprieve that starts out like a thrash metal riff and ends up in ambient soundscapes.

“Wrapped” it’s like entering a whole new dimension with its haunting piano lines moving swiftly in the background as The7thGatekeeper‘s vocals float over them. I won’t spoil the lyrics here because you need to be taken on this journey for yourself. It’s reminiscent of Mariusz Duda’s Lunatic Soul project. An ethereal piece that feels bigger than life.

“Inamorata” is a short poem of love to his wife. The poem navigates their love for each other and some hardships and health problems they went through together. The7thGatekeeper is experimenting with new sounds and artistic journeys, and every song on this second half is a testament to his diversity and depth as an artist.

Finally, we arrive at what The7thGatekeeper describes as the anchor track of this album: “(Fear) Wet State”. It describes a very real and very bad dream that he once had. He had already been workshopping a Tool-style riff and groove and found that the lyrics describing that dream fit perfectly over it. The result is a combination of his lyric-focused songs and his heavy groove-based songs. It’s a genius choice to end the album here. After you have experienced the heaviness of the first half and the quiet introspection of the second half, they merge beautifully here.

“Around This Edge Together” works because The7thGatekeeper isn’t afraid to follow his instincts even when they lead him from doom metal to Americana-influenced introspection. The DIY recording approach adds authenticity rather than feeling like a limitation, and the progression from his first album shows genuine growth. Romesh Dodangoda’s involvement on the final track and mastering helps elevate the production without polishing away the rawness that makes this project compelling. For a solo artist working out of a home studio in South Wales, blending Slipknot with Jason Isbell shouldn’t work, but here it does. The album proves The7thGatekeeper has something to say, even if he’s still figuring out exactly what that is.

James Marshall “Jimi” Hendrix was born Johnny Allen Hendrix on November 27, 1942, in Seattle, Washington, to parents Al Hendrix, a U.S. Army veteran, and Lucille Jeter. His family faced hardships: Al was deployed during World War II shortly after their 1942 marriage, leaving Lucille to raise young Jimi amid poverty and instability. The couple divorced in 1951, and Al gained custody of Jimi and his brother Leon, while other siblings entered foster care. Jimi’s childhood was marked by frequent moves, family fights, and the profound loss of his mother to cirrhosis in 1958 when he was 15—a tragedy that deeply affected him, as he later expressed a longing to “see my mother again.”

A shy, sensitive child nicknamed “Buster” after actor Buster Crabbe, Jimi found solace in music. He mimicked guitar playing with a broom, inspired by Elvis Presley records, and saw Presley perform live in Seattle in 1957. Self-taught and unable to read music, he started with a one-string ukulele salvaged from garbage, learning Elvis’s “Hound Dog” by ear. In 1958, his father bought him a second-hand acoustic guitar, and by 1959, Jimi had his first electric—a Supro Ozark—joining bands like The Velvetones and The Rocking Kings. Influenced by blues giants like Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Howlin’ Wolf, and Robert Johnson, he practiced relentlessly, developing techniques that would later redefine guitar playing.

Jimi attended Washington Junior High and Garfield High School but dropped out due to poor grades and attendance, focusing instead on music. He later confided about childhood sexual abuse, adding layers to his sensitive persona.

In 1961, at 18, Hendrix enlisted in the U.S. Army to avoid jail after being caught in stolen cars. Stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, with the 101st Airborne Division, he completed paratrooper training but disliked military life, neglecting duties to play guitar. He formed The King Kasuals (later Casuals) with fellow soldier Billy Cox, performing at base clubs. Discharged honorably in 1962 after about a year—officially for “unsuitability,” though he claimed an ankle injury from a parachute jump—Hendrix moved to Clarksville, Tennessee, and then Nashville, playing low-paying gigs on the Chitlin’ Circuit.

Post-discharge, Hendrix worked as a session guitarist under the name Jimmy James, backing icons like the Isley Brothers (“Testify,” 1964), Little Richard (“I Don’t Know What You Got (But It’s Got Me),” 1965), Ike & Tina Turner, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett, and Jackie Wilson. He clashed with bandleaders over his flashy antics—playing with his teeth, inspired by Butch Snipes—and was fired from Little Richard’s band. In Harlem and Greenwich Village, he won amateur contests, recorded with Curtis Knight, and formed Jimmy James and the Blue Flames in 1966, featuring future Spirit guitarist Randy California. Struggling financially, he honed his style at Cafe Wha?, where Chas Chandler of The Animals discovered him covering “Hey Joe” in 1966.

Chandler convinced Hendrix to move to London, where he adopted “Jimi” and signed a management deal. There, he jammed with Eric Clapton, stunning the British rock elite.

In late 1966, Hendrix formed The Jimi Hendrix Experience with bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell. Signed to Track Records, their debut single “Hey Joe” hit UK No. 6 in 1967. The album “Are You Experienced” (1967) blended blues, R&B, and psychedelia with tracks like “Purple Haze,” “Foxy Lady,” and “Fire,” peaking at UK No. 2 and US No. 5. Hendrix’s innovations—feedback, distortion, wah-wah pedal, and stereo phasing—shone through.

At the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival, introduced by Brian Jones, Hendrix’s set ended with him burning his guitar during “Wild Thing,” catapulting him to US fame. *Axis: Bold as Love* (1967) followed, with experimental sounds like “Little Wing.” Electric Ladyland (1968), a double LP he produced, topped US charts with “All Along the Watchtower” (his only US Top 40 hit) and “Voodoo Child (Slight Return).” Guests included Jack Casady and Steve Winwood.

The band disbanded in 1969 amid tensions. Hendrix formed Gypsy Sun & Rainbows for Woodstock 1969, delivering a feedback-laced “Star-Spangled Banner” evoking war sounds. He then created Band of Gypsys with Cox and Buddy Miles, releasing a live album in 1970. In 1970, he opened Electric Lady Studios and reformed the Experience with Mitchell and Cox, working on First Rays of the New Rising Sun (released posthumously in 1997).

Hendrix’s personal life was chaotic. He had a long relationship with Kathy Etchingham from 1966 to 1969, living at 23 Brook Street, London (now a museum next to Handel’s home). He believed in Cherokee heritage through his grandmother but had no documented tribal ties. Struggling with drug use, including LSD and barbiturates mixed with alcohol, he faced legal issues like a 1969 overdose and contract disputes with manager Mike Jeffery. Hendrix was prolific, leaving vast unreleased material, and tuned his guitar down a half-step for easier bending.

On September 18, 1970, Hendrix died in London at girlfriend Monika Dannemann’s flat from asphyxiation on vomit after taking barbiturates—an accidental death ruled by the coroner. He was 27, joining the infamous “27 Club.” A memorial service in Seattle drew 150 attendees; he was cremated.

Hendrix’s four-year meteoric career pioneered electric guitar innovations: controlled feedback, distortion as a “vocabulary,” wah-wah in rock, and thumb-fretting for simultaneous rhythm and lead. Synthesizing blues, R&B, soul, British rock, folk, 1950s rock ‘n’ roll, and jazz, he birthed hard rock, heavy metal, funk, post-punk, grunge, and hip-hop. As the preeminent Black rocker, he empowered Black musicians creatively.

Ranked No. 1 guitarist and No. 6 artist by *Rolling Stone*, he influenced Prince, George Clinton, John Frusciante, Kurt Cobain, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Miles Davis, and bands like Black Sabbath, Metallica, and Aerosmith. His albums rank in Rolling Stone‘s 500 Greatest: Are You Experienced (No. 15), Axis (No. 92), Electric Ladyland (No. 53); “Purple Haze” is No. 17 in Greatest Songs.

Posthumous honors include Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction (1992), UK Music Hall of Fame (2005), Lifetime Achievement Grammy (1992), Hollywood Walk of Fame star (1991), US postage stamp (2014), and memorials like Jimi Hendrix Park and a Seattle statue. Documentaries like Jimi Hendrix – Electric Church (2015) and over 40 years of posthumous sales surpassing his lifetime figures underscore his timeless impact.

Happy heavenly birthday, Jimi.

Your riffs still echo through eternity.

This isn’t a side project in name only. Backed by a formidable lineup featuring Marcus Blom on bass, dual guitar assault from Johan Söfringsgård, and the combined drumming power of Glenn Welman and Nuno Oliveira, Ruborg transforms his veteran songwriting prowess into something altogether more visceral and uncompromising. Gone are the stripped-down, lo-fi textures of “Gravel and Gold”, in their place, a high-voltage, riff-driven assault that pays homage to the classic heavy metal that shaped Ruborg’s earliest musical DNA, while maintaining the compositional character that’s made his solo work so compelling.

“The Descent” stands as both a homecoming and a revelation, proof that sometimes the music that first set your teenage heart on fire never really leaves you. It just waits for the right moment to explode. Let’s descend into this electrifying evolution.

Starting off with “Bloodbath Romeo,” the band wears their influences on their sleeves like Black Sabbath yet genuinely expresses themselves in a way that doesn’t feel derivative. The verses have bone-crushing old school heavy metal riffs and the choruses have powerful catchy vocals.

“Prelude To Possession” is more like a direct homage to Black Sabbath’s self-titled song’s intro with how it uses bells and guitars to signal doom and indeed possession of evil spirits. This is in great taste since this album drops on Hallow’s eve.

The title track works like a descent into madness as the lyrics paint a gradually more vulgar image of violence, degeneracy, and occult rituals. The instrumental is pulled back here to put more focus on the lyrics until the final act of the song where we get an instrumental section with guitar octave harmonies to fade us out. Intentional or not, it works really well with the descent theme.

My personal favorite track on the album is “Ol’ Witching Waltz,” simply because it’s a great performance by all the band members. The band’s chemistry really shines here, compositionally it’s like a Rainbow song, though the guitar solo follows a more contemporary melodic style, unlike Ritchie Blackmore’s neoclassical approach.

“Death Train” is a highlight on the album with its dark bluesy undertone. The guitar tone and texture is reminiscent of Robin Trower and those 70s guitar sounds. That palette really compliments Johan Ruborg’s vocal style in my opinion.

“Save Me From Myself” is, as the title implies, a somber ballad about one’s internal struggles. We are all our own worst enemies for the most part. It might even be too much to handle, so Johan asks for external help. The lyrics explore that theme of being lost in an internal maze of your own broken dreams brilliantly. It’s a great rendition of an 80’s ballad complete with a great guitar solo and chorused bell-like guitars for the harmony.

“Skeleton Jesus” earns a highlight here because of its provocative title. However, it’s not as crazy as you might expect. It’s straightforward 80’s rock here with a shreddy solo in the first 12 seconds of the song. Though the lyrics have levity to them, the instrumental doesn’t stray away from the standard format.

“Red Alert” is the final track of the album and makes quite the first impression with a headbang-inducing riff immediately to signal the band going out with a bang. The riff style in this song is definitely more contemporary, more like modern metal, but the structure of the song itself and the vocals are still very 80’s. It’s an interesting combination of textures that makes the song fresh and the album ends on a high note.

Electric Bone Rattle’s “The Descent” delivers exactly what it promises, a straightforward heavy metal record that honors the classics without imitating them. This is music for those who still believe in the power of the riff.

 

Asia: Where Metal Meets the Mandate

Asia’s political rockers often fuse cultural activism with headbanging fury, turning stages into soapboxes for independence and identity.

• Sanae Takaichi (Japan, Prime Minister, 2025–present): Elected leader of the Liberal Democratic Party and Japan’s PM at age 64, Takaichi’s rock roots trace back to her university days in a heavy metal cover band. She still unwinds with an electronic drum kit, blasting tracks by Metallica and X Japan to “clear her mind.” Her “Heavy Metal Lady” nickname underscores how this hobby fueled her resilience in a male-dominated field, where she champions economic revival and national security—much like a riff that refuses to fade.

• Freddy Lim (Taiwan, Legislator, 2016–present): As frontman for symphonic black/death metal band Chthonic since 1993, Lim has woven Taiwanese folklore and anti-colonial themes into albums like Takasago Army (2005), which toured with symphonic metal giants like Epica. Co-founding the New Power Party, he won a seat in Taiwan’s Legislative Yuan in 2016 (re-elected 2020 and 2024), surviving a 2022 recall. He’s dubbed the “world’s first metal politician,” proving extreme music can drive moderate reform.

North America: From Grunge Grooves to Congressional Jams

The U.S. and Canada boast a roster of rockers who pivoted from festival circuits to Capitol Hill, often using fame to amplify overlooked causes.

• Sonny Bono (United States, U.S. Congressman, 1995–1998; Mayor of Palm Springs, 1988–1992): Half of the iconic pop-rock duo Sonny & Cher, Bono co-wrote and sang on hits like “I Got You Babe” (1965), blending folk-rock with psychedelic edges on albums like Inner View (1967). After a mayoral stint revitalizing Palm Springs’ economy, he served as a Republican Congressman for California’s 44th District until his 1998 death. Bono’s legacy? The Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act (1998), extending artist protections—a direct riff from his music industry battles.

• John Hall (United States, U.S. Congressman, 2007–2011): Guitarist and co-founder of soft rock band Orleans, Hall penned yacht-rock staples like “Still the One” (1976), which sold millions and became an NFL anthem. As a Democrat representing New York’s 19th District, he co-sponsored the Veterans Claims Modernization Act (2008), streamlining benefits for service members. Hall’s harmonious style translated to bipartisan environmental advocacy before he retired in 2010.

• Jon Huntsman Jr. (United States, Governor of Utah, 2005–2009; U.S. Ambassador to China, 2009–2011; Ambassador to Russia, 2017–2019): Bassist in the progressive rock cover band Wizard during his youth, Huntsman jammed on classics by Yes and Genesis. Rising through diplomatic ranks under both parties, he governed Utah with a focus on trade and education, later running unsuccessfully for president in 2012 and 2016. His band’s exploratory sound echoed his globalist foreign policy.

• Jon Fishman (United States, Selectman of Lincolnville, Maine, 2017–present): Drummer for jam-rock legends Phish since 1983, Fishman powers marathon sets blending funk, psychedelia, and bluegrass on albums like A Picture of Nectar (1992). In his low-key town role, he tackles local environmental issues, from zoning to conservation—applying Phish’s improvisational ethos to community governance.

Europe and Oceania: Protest Anthems to Parliamentary Thrones

Down under and across the pond, rockers have long used music as a megaphone for social change, storming parliaments with the same fervor as mosh pits.

• Peter Garrett (Australia, Minister for the Environment, 2007–2010; Minister for Education, 2010–2013; MP, 2004–2013): Lead singer of post-punk rockers Midnight Oil (1976–2002), Garrett belted protest anthems like “Beds Are Burning” (1987), railing against Indigenous dispossession and uranium mining. As a Labor Party MP, he shaped climate policies and Indigenous reconciliation, retiring to reform the band in 2017 for The Makarrata Project (2020). Garrett’s arc shows rock’s protest roots seeding policy fruit.

• Tony Blair (United Kingdom, Prime Minister, 1997–2007): Guitarist and singer in the rock cover band Ugly Rumours at Oxford (late 1970s), jamming on Fleetwood Mac and Chuck Berry tunes. As Labour PM, Blair modernized the economy and devolved powers to Scotland and Wales, though his Iraq War legacy remains divisive. His band days hint at the charisma that won three elections.

Africa and Beyond: Fusion Rhythms in Ministerial Chambers

African leaders blend traditional sounds with rock edges, using global stages to elevate cultural diplomacy.

• Youssou N’Dour (Senegal, Minister of Tourism and Leisure, 2012–2013; Minister of Culture and Communication, 2017–2021): A mbalax pioneer fusing Senegalese griot traditions with rock and pop, N’Dour‘s hits like “7 Seconds” (1992, with Neneh Cherry) earned a Grammy and UNESCO ambassadorship. Appointed by President Macky Sall after a 2012 presidential bid, he promoted tourism and cultural exports, turning Senegal’s music scene into soft power gold.

While runners like Jello Biafra (Dead Kennedys frontman, 1979 San Francisco mayoral candidate) and Kinky Friedman (country-rock satirist, 2006 Texas gubernatorial hopeful) electrified campaigns without victory, the true office-holders above form a eclectic lineup. Notably absent: any sitting or former presidents with verified rock/metal performance histories—Bill Clinton’s saxophone leaned jazz, not shred.

From Tokyo’s drum kits to Canberra’s cabinet rooms, these rock-rooted rulers remind us that governance, like a killer solo, thrives on passion and improvisation. In an era of polarized playlists, their stories bridge divides, showing how the thunder of amps can harmonize with the gavel’s strike. As Takaichi taps her sticks in the PM’s residence, one wonders: Who’s next to trade distortion pedals for diplomatic cables? The stage is set—let the riff begin.

Built entirely in his home studio, the track bears the unmistakable signature of a one-man creation. Gehl handles everything: guitars, drums, vocals, production, yet nothing about Chasing Shadows feels solitary. Instead, it pulses with a communal urgency, like an echo from every artist who’s ever sought truth through distortion. The mix hums with grit and determination; every riff cuts close, every beat lands like it’s been earned.

The song dives straight into the modern ache: the endless chase for money, fame, and the validation of strangers. “People buy expensive things just to impress people they don’t even know,” Gehl admits, and that reflection gives the song its moral weight. The music answers back with defiance, its raw energy serving as both protest and release.

There’s a vintage warmth to Gehl’s vocals: drenched in spring reverb, hovering between confidence and confession. Beneath the surface, though, there’s a deeper pulse: an artist finding redemption through creation. His influences: Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and AC/DC, linger like old friends in the room, but the sound is entirely his own, carried by the tension between control and surrender.

Chasing Shadows doesn’t aim to outshine the giants of rock; it stands shoulder to shoulder with their spirit, reminding us what drew us to the genre in the first place: grit, heart, and a refusal to give in to the noise.

It’s the sound of a man choosing meaning over motion, truth over glamour; a solitary spark burning bright under the weight of noise and need!