'It Used To Annoy Me': The Darkness Don't Care If You Think They're Taking The Piss

Seemingly perennially in good spirits, The Music catches The Darkness' affable frontman Justin Hawkins while he's riding in their tour van in Germany. The vocalist/guitarist amusingly relays in his inimitable style that the English glam-rockers have already consumed Starbucks and urinated by the side of the road. “We don't do that by necessity, we do it by choice,” he quips of the latter.

Their less-than-glamorous surroundings don't quite equate with the fact that, at the time of our conversation, they've recently concluded a stint supporting “fellow Suffolk gentleman” Ed Sheeran in UK outdoor venues. “We know their organisation quite well, because his manager used to be our product manager when we were signed to Atlantic,” Hawkins explains. “And they're from the same part of the world as us, so everyone really looks after us.” 

Sheeran's seemingly a fan of The Darkness, too. “Apparently he really loved the first album, and when he first started playing guitar, apparently Get Your Hands Off My Woman was the first riff he ever played. That's what he said; I don't know if it's true,” Hawkins chuckles.

The enormous shows afforded the band the opportunity to potentially win converts to their cause, the experience surely laying groundwork for their new LP and sixth overall, Easter Is Cancelled. It's a self-described “semi-concept album” steeped in multiverse theory and the idea of rock as a potential personal saviour. “One of the things that we thought was, if we're going to call it Easter Is Cancelled, then let's explore a realm in which Jesus and the three Marys decide to use their supernatural ability of being God's son and all, and also being super buff, because he's got my physique which is super buff... That Jesus decides he doesn't want to be crucified after all, and Easter is cancelled,” Hawkins explains.

Pundits aren't likely to associate pseudo-concept albums with a group like The Darkness, but perhaps that disconnect spurred the quartet on towards the unexpected. “I think every band is waiting for an opportunity to do that. And usually it comes around about the tenth album, when you get the woodwind instruments out and you try and go fully up inside your own arse.

"It used to annoy me, but it doesn't any more. I'm quite happy for people to think that.”

“But we had an opportunity to do something that had a vague narrative to it that could be a concept album, but didn't involve being self-indulgent. Because it's basically still a Darkness album, we just had an idea for a thread, you know? It's not Jesus Christ Superstar, thankfully,” he laughs. “It's not Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but it has got something of a flavour that permeates in a way that the other albums don't have.”

The Darkness have long exhibited tongue-in-cheek or just downright biting humour – note songs such as Solid Gold from Pinewood Smile. But does Hawkins believe some misconstrue this as outright taking the piss? “I'm glad you said misconstrued. It used to annoy me, but it doesn't any more. I'm quite happy for people to think that.”

Indeed, their not taking themselves too seriously has endeared the band to rock audiences since mega-selling 2003 debut Permission To Land. That record arrived amid a largely po-faced music industry climate that would've hardly seemed receptive to their tight pants-sporting glam-rock revivalism and penchant for power ballads.

Also, The Darkness were perhaps among that last generation of hard-rock acts who could potentially enjoy multi-platinum certifications and the ensuing lavish major label budgets for videos. “It seems like it changed just after us, didn't it?” the frontman ponders. “A few years ago I watched on YouTube a talk that was being conducted by Todd Rundgren, and he said something that really stayed with me. He said that music has stopped being a product, and is now a service. And that makes me think that our role as musicians has now regressed to being like wandering minstrels, getting up with a lute and having mud thrown at us by kings who are lauding over us in Spotify towers.

“And that's ok, it is what it is. There's other ways to make money, like I could go and be a postman, for example. In Switzerland it seems like they make good money doing that,” he jokes. “But I think we all enjoy music so much that we're prepared to make that sacrifice, be in a van and urinate on the side of the road, and do all those things. The lifestyle is its own reward for me.”