Drug Church: “Don’t look to a musician for secret knowledge – or even intelligent conversation half the time”

Patrick Kindlon doesn’t know much at all. That’s not a slight against the Drug Church vocalist, but something he readily admits to. In fact, he’s at pains to point out – and does so numerous times during our 90-minute conversation – that he has no enlightenment to impart.

Yet thanks to the success of his band he constantly finds himself in a position where people expect him to deliver profound truths about life. Thirteen years after forming in Albany, New York, Drug Church are about to release their fifth album, PRUDE. As the band’s profile has grown, so have people’s expectations of Patrick as some kind of sage.

“Talk to my wife,” he begins. “When we get in an argument, she’ll tell you there’s no enlightenment in me. I think that’s one of the biggest failings that guitar music has: for whatever reason, we’ve made it so that rock musicians have to have some heft to their thoughts intellectually. We don’t assume that people who work in retail are going to hit us with wisdom, and musicians are not the intellectual superior of retail workers.”

He smiles, before continuing his point, as if he’s working his thoughts about this out in real time.

“If there’s a person reading this that does a data entry or call centre job and you don’t feel great about your position in life or you don’t see a future: one per cent of musicians are more capable than you. That’s it. Most of them, if they couldn’t play their guitar, would be in the exact position you’re in. So don’t ever look to a musician for some type of secret knowledge – or really even intelligent fucking conversation half the time.”

It’s an attitude that Patrick extends to his music. He doesn’t actually think Drug Church’s songs hold any meaning. But that’s not entirely because of the songs themselves or his opinion about them, but more because ultimately, he believes nothing in this life actually matters or means anything.

The only important things for Patrick are his wife, for whom he moved to Australia, and his stepchild. So while people will have opinions of him and/or his music – as well as their own personal interpretations of his lyrics – Patrick feels that, in the grand scheme of things, his songs hold no deep meaning and have very little meaning in terms of his own life.

“There’s an AA line: ‘Other people’s opinions of me are none of my business.’ I believe that very fully,” he says. “Now, as a public facing figure, occasionally if somebody is lying about me, I have to jump out and say, ‘That’s not true, man. You’re going to cost me opportunities by lying, don’t do that.’ But in terms of their perception of me and how they feel about me, that’s entirely their business. Because once you get a family, as long as your wife loves you, the other shit is less important.”

In fact, Patrick isn’t hostile to the idea of this article simply stating that his family is all that matters, and that his band are entirely unimportant and inconsequential.

“I mean, yeah,” he grins. “You could be honest and just say that music is ephemeral, transitory and temporary. Things that are important to us are going to die with us. Mozart remains a name – do we think that Mozart is touching people’s hearts the way that he did 150 years ago, even? Probably not.

“Ike Turner invented rock music, but when was the last time you listened to [Ike Turner and Jackie Brenston’s 1951 song] Rocket 88? All people know about him is that he was a wife beater, but he invented rock music as we understand it, because he essentially invented distortion. So this guy changed the face of the 20th century, and what we know him for is battering his wife.”

While this last comment strays into familiar territory – the slightly controversial topic about the separation of art and artist – that Patrick spoke on when Drug Church graced the cover of Kerrang! in March 2022, this time around it’s less a philosophical stance than a personal one. Because although making music (and comic books) remain important facets of his life, they’ve been usurped.

Before, it almost seemed that Patrick’s indifference to how his art is perceived (and how well it’s received) by others was a self-defence mechanism brought on by an understanding and acceptance of Drug Church’s insignificance in both the music industry and the universe. Now, his priorities have shifted.

“The world has seven billion people,” he says with a wry smile that prophesies the typical Patrick dark humour that follows. “If your goal is to impact as many of them as possible, I think you’re probably best served by making a nuclear bomb or something. It’s very difficult as an adult with family responsibilities to care about or to seek adoration from outside of your home. Because the people that know you from your art only get the sides of you that you choose to show, or tiny little slivers of things that slip through that you did not intend to show them. But they don’t get to see you with all the bits of yourself that you never want to show somebody.”

The intimation is that only close friends and family will ever really know Patrick, and that you certainly won’t if all you ever do is listen to his music or read his interviews. If you try to take meaning from the songs on PRUDE – which are very good and which, at risk of undermining Patrick’s self-deprecation and his claims to the contrary, are also intelligent and profound – he most likely won’t agree with any interpretation that you come up with. Even telling him he’s probably undermining his own intelligence and impact doesn’t work.

“This is the part that’s so disappointing for music journalists, and I hate to do this to you – it’s just a good record,” he shrugs. “There’s not much else to say. I’m proud of it. I think it’s good. And everybody involved in it is simple enough that if you ask them, ‘What does it mean? What’s it about?’ they wouldn’t have a cohesive answer for you.”

When written down, it might seem like he’s being dismissive, but he really isn’t. He’s just telling his truth.

“You can say that I have deep thoughts or whatever,” he continues, that wry smile returning to his lips, this time with a chuckle. “I do not.”

PRUDE is released on October 4 via Pure Noise

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