Kerrang! issue 1147 - The Amazing resurrection Of Ville Valo (2007)

   HIM’s tour schedule for previous album ‘Dark Light‘ had left him physically and emotinally shattered. The album went on to sell one million copies worldwide but it seemed there was a time when Ville Valo wasn’t sure it was worth it.

   High up in towering Japanese sky-scraper hotels, he seemed to crash, spilling his heart out in Kerrang! cover interview. There he drank and drank, words pouring out as he talked about how he had contemplated suicide, how he was probably an alcoholic, how he suffered from crippling panic attacks.

   He said he couldn’t sleep, that he’d wake up struggling to breath in hotel rooms, forcing more drinks down in order to get back to uncounsciousness.Teling, he said, ‘‘I’m not a happy person.I’m in turmoil.‘‘

Today, Ville Valo, His Infernal Majesty, is seated in the plush confines of the Soho Hotel, smack in the centre of London. Within easy walking distance are the Cro-Bar and Garlic And Shots, dingy rock bars that are two of Valo’s favourite hangouts. Despite the 24-hour room service on offer, he’s been 

dining out at the ₤ 3.50 all-you-can-eat Chinese noodle bar down the road.

   ‘‘The woman in there said, ‘‘We’ll see you again tomorrow, ‘‘ he says vaguely. ‘‘I really don’t want to go back there but I know I will. I’m a creature of habit.‘‘

   On the walls of this achingly hip hotel are expensive artworks, the sofas plush, deep and all-encompassing. The bar menu is of expensive cocktails, the bar staff cooler than the clientele.

   Valo himself is in ripped jeans and a shirt, hair dank and greasy, wrapped around his face. He’s grown a long goatee beard, further hiding his face as he talks from behind a mask of hair. There’s no disguising those eyes though, green, piercing and striking. There’s no concealing his skin either, yellowish, sallow and sickly. Valo, it seems, has been in town for a few days and has had some catching up to do.

   ‘‘London is like a second home, ‘‘ he murmurs. ‘‘There are so many people to see, places to go. I’ve been drinking a lot, catching up with friends, hanging out in the pub.‘‘

   Today, he says, will be a rest day. A day to let the body recuperate as he eases himself out of his hangover. He’s bought a stack of DVDs and few books, a Metallica biography among them, and plans to spend the rest of the day in his hotel room, sipping beers, watching movies and reading.

   A waitress wanders over and Valo orders a Jack and Coke and a 

and a beer to start, ‘‘then, we’ll see from there‘‘. The waitress jots down the order, glances at her watch – it’s not much past 11 am – nods inscrutably and leaves. Valo lights a cigarette, smoke curling from the edges of his mouth in a thin trail. ‘‘Have I told you how great I feel?‘‘ he smiles.

SO LIFE IS GOOD, THEN?

‘‘Everything’s really good, yeah. We’re working hard on a new album at the moment. We’ve finished five songs for our demo and the new album will probably be 10 songs long. We’re still working on the last songs before we start recording at the moment. It’s good not to completely finish them as it’s always nice to have room to move in the studio.‘‘

THERE WAS A TIME A LITTLE WHILE AGO WHEN IT LOOKED LIKE YOU’D HAD ENOUGH OF HIM? THAT YOU MIGHT BE PACKING IT IN.

‘‘We always have that. We’re always so straightforward that, if someone’s depressed, we’ll say so. It was probably because we’d been doing a lot of touring. There was a lot of mess then. Last year was a mess. A lot of bad things happened – friends died or got terminally ill, lots of stuff like that. Trying to work while all that’s happening is really hard. Your heart gets jaded. It was a process we had to go through.‘‘

IT SOUNDS BLEAK.

‘‘In 2005, when we were recording ‘Dark Light‘, one of my very dear friends from LA hung himself. It was a big shock and it still is. I wrote a song for him – not about what he did but about him – in order to work through some of the stuff that’s been emotionally devastating over the past couple of years. I think that particular person deserves a good song. Hopefully it’s good enough for him. It’s a celebration of his life, a tribute.

DO YOU SEE SONGWRITING AS A WAY TO GET THINGS OUT, TO CLEAR YOUR HEAD?

‘‘Yes, it’s very cathartic. It’s the same as writing. If you write a diary, then what you‘re doing is putting the stuff inside you in front of you. That makes it much easier to psycho-babble yourself out of it. It’s very inexpensive therapy.‘‘

DO YOU FIND THAT YOU HAVE TO DO THAT QUITE OFTEN?

‘‘If you think of your brain as a hard drive, then every now and again it gets full and you have to defragment it.‘‘

WHAT HAVE YOU HAD TO WORK THROUGH?

‘‘I had a lot of problems with my pesonal life, problems with my girl. I was away all the time. Love is an emotional rollercoaster and, if you’re trying to work through all that with a few thousands miles between you, then it gets very complicated. You’re supposed to be doing interviews the whole time but you’ve got other things on your mind. It tested my sense of humour, let’s say that.‘‘

ARE YOU LIVING ON YOUR OWN AT THE MOMENT?

‘‘Yes, I am a lone wolf. I like my own space, especially now I’m working on a new material. I have to be alone to do that. It’s very necessary. I can’t do the dishes when I’ve got a song in my head. My place is a fucking filthy pig hole at the moment. I’d rather write a song than do hoovering.‘‘

ARE YOU IN A RELATIONSHIP?

‘‘Yes, I’m with the same girl. It was on the verge of falling apart for a while. There was a lot of stress because I was away so often. Shit hit the fan. But that’s how relationships are – they do test you. There’re a lot of things to go through. She respects what I do more than she used to and I respect her more too. We’ll see.‘‘

IS IT EASIER NOW THAT YOU DON’T LIVE TOGETHER?

‘‘We had such a big falling out eight months ago that it wouldn’t be wise to move in together again so soon. It’s easier if we have some personal space. A lot of people live apart.‘‘

WHEN VILLE Valo talks, he does so in a considered way. He pauses to think about the question, forming an answer. There’s an easy erudition about him, long words roll off his tongue, his low-pitched voice occasionally a murmur. He’s quick to laugh too, taking the piss out of himself, trying not to take anything too seriously. Ask him what has been inspiring the new HIM album – as yet untitled but due out in July – and he says, with a twinkle, ‘‘hanging out with friends in pubs and listening to their miserable stories. That and looking in

in the mirror occasionally and realising what a c**t I am.''

At this he leans back and laughs – not uproariously, but little nervously – before shrugging his shoulders. He is happy, though, and says you’ll hear that in the new album.

‘‘The music’s still all about relationships, ‘‘ he says. ‘‘It’s about sex and death. The two big things. I’m still not into politics, religion or anything like that so I don’t have much else to write about.‘‘

‘‘The music’s still all about relationships, ‘‘ he says. ‘‘It’s about sex and death. The two big things. I’m still not into politics, religion or anything like that so I don’t have much else to write about.‘'He says it’s fun, tongue-in-cheek but meatier than the music HIM have released in the past. It’ll be a blast. It’s going to be heavy, dark and moody but there’s so much humour and life in it too. It’s not trash metal though, it’lll still sound like HIM because is still has the big, whiny choruses with my funny, baritone voice singing about dead lovers and shit all over it.‘‘

And again, he’s talking the piss out of himself. Realising that this is rock’n’roll and it doesn’t have to be life or death. But there was, perhaps, a time when he could’t find that divide.

YOU TALKED ABOUT PANIC ATTACKS AND DEPRESIONS IN 2006. YOU GOT MUGGED, YOU GOT INTO A FIGHT WITH YOUR NEIGHBOUR, YOU SPLIT UP WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND…

‘‘A lot of people get into fights, or get their drinks spiked. You only hear about it happening to me because I’m in a rock band.‘‘

WAS IT A RUN OF BAD LUCK, OR, SELF-DESTRUCTION, WERE YOU PUTTING YOURSELF IN THOSE SITUATIONS?

‘‘It was testing my sense of humour. I don’t regret it at all. Thank God nothing worse happend. It could have been a lot worse.‘‘

SOME PEOPLE ARE GUARDED BECAUSE THEY DON’T WANT OTHERS TO KNOW TOO MUCH ABOUT THEM, TO USE THEIR DEEPEST FEELINGS AGAINST THEM.

‘‘They’re acting, then.‘‘

IT MEANS THERE ARE A LOT OF PEOPLE ALL OVER THE WORLD WHO KNOW PERSONAL DETAILS OF YOUR LIFE. THAT MUST BE ODD.

‘‘But there’s also a lot of stuff they don’t know. Thank God they don’t know everything about me. A lot of people think they know me because they listen to HIM. It’s a big part of my life but it’s not all of it. I do take dumps and wipe my own arse every now and again , I do buy my own toilet paper, I am a fan of other bands – all those things make me what I am and not everyone knows everything about that.‘‘

DO YOU LIKE THE ATTENTION?

‘‘I don’t mind it, but I don’t crave it. Especially not when I’m in an artistic, introspective mood.‘‘

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU WERE TO GET REALLY FAMOUS? MOBBED-ON-THE-STREET FAMOUS?

‘‘Then I’ll move to Dubai with Michael Jackson. Fame isn’t something that’s improtant to me personally. If somebody on the street asks for my picture, and if that makes their day, then that’s beautiful, it’s fun. I don’t think you can get so famous that your life gets restricted. I think it’s more about your attitude too – if you blow yourself up in your head, you’ll make yourself paranoid.

YOU SEEM VERY SORTED AT THE MOMENT, AS THOUGH YOU’VE WORKED A LOT OUT RECENTLY.

‘‘I’m happy. I’m happy because of music. I can’t wait to get back out there. That’s what happens with every album. You go back to all the bridges you’ve burned down and try to rebuild them. I think that, through all the emotion turmoil, good things come out.‘‘

I HAD YOU DOWN AS A PESSIMIST. THAT’S AVERY OPTIMISTIC VIEWPOINT.

‘‘Let’s put it in this way:the glass is half-empty but, the fact is, I can always get another drink.‘‘