The reclusive metal pioneer speaks

Justin Broadrick, the godfather of industrial metal, rarely does interviews. But the Godflesh founder opened up about his four-decade career, recent autism diagnosis, and why he's stepping away from touring.

A punk photo changed everything

A photograph of Micky Geggus from the Cockney Rejects in Sounds magazine sparked Broadrick's desire to play guitar. He was captivated by the barre chord on a Gibson SG.

Guitar as survival tool

Growing up on a poor council estate in Birmingham, Broadrick was a mute, isolated child. Punk rock saved his life by giving him a way to connect with other kids and escape bullying.

“Punk saved my life, because it got me out of my ultra-introspective autistic state.”

One-man band at eleven

Broadrick got his first cassette recorder at nine and started recording himself on any instrument he could find. By eleven, he was already a one-man band making shit punk demos.

Grindcore and the birth of Godflesh

After playing on Napalm Death's Scum in 1987 and drumming for Head of David, Broadrick was kicked out for writing what they called noisy bastard music. He used those songs to start Godflesh with bassist Ben Green.

Making terrifying, filthy music

Broadrick tuned everything down as far as possible to create a repulsive, terrifying sound. He wanted to express the horror and pain he felt as a scared child through mechanized, organic, filthy music.

Council estate equipment

The first two Godflesh albums were made with a cheap Westone ST guitar, a borrowed amp, an HM-2 pedal, and half-broke cables. After the band earned money, he upgraded to a Strat and Marshall JCM800.

Fame was fucking horrible

By the early nineties, Godflesh was huge. But Broadrick couldn't handle being a well-known musician. The only way he could cope was with alcohol and substances that would numb the overwhelming experience.

Touring became self-destruction

Broadrick stopped proper touring almost twenty years ago. Even now, every show causes utter distress. He doesn't want to leave his house or be in unpredictable situations with unpredictable people.

The tour that nearly destroyed him

In two thousand, Broadrick canceled a seven-week US tour after two months in Europe. The day he was supposed to leave, he hadn't slept in three days, was having panic attacks, and was paralyzed in bed.

“If I've got to keep doing these tours, I'm going to end up dead by the end of the next one.”

Financial ruin and death threats

The uninsured tour had no insurance, so everyone came to Broadrick for compensation. He was broke, remortgaged his house three times, and even received death threats from the tour bus company.

Jesu rose from the ashes

While Godflesh was gone, Broadrick worked on material that became the first Jesu album. His whole experience of the tour disaster went straight into that project.

Phoebe Bridgers loves Jesu

Broadrick collaborated with Phoebe Bridgers on Bobby and the hidden track Best Dressed. She doesn't know Godflesh but loves Jesu for its heavy factor in melancholy music.

“You do something that people in melancholy music don't do, and it's the heavy factor.”

Decay's sparse, focused guitar

On Decay, Broadrick used a seven-string Schecter Hellraiser Hybrid sparingly for hyper-focused moments. He spends more time on computers chopping up guitar than physically making music.

Hernia surgery ends Godflesh

Decay is supposedly Godflesh's penultimate release. Broadrick had surgery for a debilitating hernia and can't shout like that again without breaking his abdomen wall.

“If I shout like that again I'm going to break my abdomen wall.”

Jesu, JK Flesh, and White Light District

Jesu doesn't require shouting or much movement onstage. Broadrick also has JK Flesh, a heavy electronic project, and White Light District, a new guitar-oriented project that's not a Godflesh replacement.

Tired of the Godflesh template

Broadrick wants to step outside the guitar, bass, drum machine, and samples formula. He's making heavy, ugly, cinematic music that isn't written to perform live.

Autism explains the prolific output

Broadrick didn't know he was autistic until recently. His singular, hyper-focused obsessive behavior and bludgeoning need to express himself drove his prolific career. Most artists as prolific as him are also on the spectrum.

“It's no coincidence that any artists who are close to being as prolific as me seem to be spectrum-dwellers themselves.”