A Life Less Ordinary

"Literally dick and fart jokes,” is the immediate response given by bearded behemoth Andy Williams when asked what's kept the Every Time I Die fires burning for 16 years. It's a joke obviously, but only to a degree, as it's their ability to not take themselves – or any sort of scene – seriously that has allowed the Buffalo, New York quintet to continue standing strong in the world of metal.

“A lot of people get caught up in that fucking head game, where it's just like, 'Oh my God, they love me,'” the softly-spoken axeman admits. “For us, it's like, 'Really? You like me? – I'm a fat, thirty-six-year-old guy with tattoos and no aspiration to do anything else in my life – I can't believe you think I'm cool.' And when kids come up to me and they're like, 'Hey man, you're my favourite guitar player,' I'm like, 'Are you sure? Have you heard Eric Clapton or other great guitar players? Because I don't sound anything like those guys.' And I think that has a lot to do with it: one) not taking ourselves too seriously, and two) having an almost morbid, self-deprecating sense of humour.”

The Southern 'core wild men are making yet another trek Down Under behind their fantastic sixth record of last year, Ex Lives, and this headline tour will mark their second sojourn in less than 12 months following their (rather surprising but very welcome) inclusion on the Big Day Out bill in January. These dates will see Every Time I Die getting physical in their natural habitat of a cosy club, an environment that was a distant memory when they were thrust onto the main stage at one in the afternoon.

“I almost died [that] first day,” Williams bluntly recalls. “It was 112 – I think you guys had like the hottest heat index in Sydney's history the day we played – which is like, I don't even know what the fuck it is in your weird temperature, but [that's] so hot you could fry an egg on the ground. And we had the dumb fucking idea to wear black leather jackets. It was awful.”

It's about this stage that question time is pretty well put on hold. Williams is in the zone, telling hilarious anecdotes end-to-end, going on to discuss their square-pegs-in-a-round-hole status on the line-up. “I think we definitely stuck out a little bit on that tour, but that's cool, y'know what I mean? We don't play with bands like Red Hot Chili Peppers and stuff like that, so for us we were like little kids walking around, like 'Oh my God, there's Flea!' I remember when OFF! showed up the first day I lost it because Mario Rubalcaba was there and he was one of my favourite skateboarders when I was a kid, he played drums in Hot Snakes – which is like my favourite band of all time – and now he's in OFF! with Keith Morris from Black Flag and Circle Jerks, and it was just a trippy experience to see those dudes.”

Williams says he would watch JEFF The Brotherhood and Death Grips every day, OFF! every other day and calls Gary Clark Jr the only artist he “found” that he didn't know about. He also got friendly with some transvestites. “Well, it was weird because there was these transvestite Mexican wrestlers walking around the airports that we were in, and I got along with them really well; we were sharing hotels so I was hanging out with them. I'd be talking to my girlfriend at the end of the night and she'd be like, 'Well, what did you do today?' and I'd say I've been hanging out with the Mexican wrestling guys and blah blah blah. It was the weirdest [time]; you can never have those conversations with people. My girlfriend works a shitty job and she talks about the same three people, and when I talk it's like 'transvestite Mexican wrestlers, fucking Flea's around'; my life is a comic book, and it's so weird to try and connect and talk about it because it doesn't make sense.”

To back-up his admission of a comical existence, the guitarist recalls a Sydney show at Manning Bar where he kicked a fan down a staircase at said fan's request. Williams then references the best-selling self-help book, The Secret, and although he admits “it's a crock of shit”, he does concede the positive thinking voodoo might be slowly taking hold.

“I will come up with this thing, like 'Today I'm going to do this', and next thing you know it happens. Like, I'm going to do the weirdest thing possible; I'm going to go to Chinatown and if there's an open door I'm going to walk in. I don't know what the fuck's in there? There might be a family just eating dinner. But I'm starting to make my own destiny is what I'm trying to say. To be hanging out with Mexican transvestite wrestlers, that's something that I can check off my bucket list. Like, 'Tonight I'm going to ride a horse', and the next thing y'know I'm riding a horse. It's fucking weird, man.”

It is weird – when Williams puts it like that. But in reality it's quite logical – and it works, for Every Time I Die. Their entire career has been a case of wanting to do something, then doing it. They have never compromised their recorded output, never given anything less than everything on stage. And why? Because they don't want to let anyone down. Especially themselves.

“I don't ever want to be that guy that's doing something mediocre and being happy with it,” he says, sounding disappointed at the mere thought. “There's a lot of people that do the band thing because they just became so complacent in doing the same thing over and over again. With Every Time I Die, the minute it gets mediocre, the minute that happens is the minute we're done. [If this] isn't the best thing we can do then fuck it, we're calling it a day.”