CROWN PRINCE OF THE CRYING JAG

Every time I put on Teenage Snuff Film, I wish there were at least three more songs on it. It’s one of those perfect albums I never get tired of, and never get enough of. Usually, I’m just grateful to hear everything that’s on an album. But with Rowland S. Howard, I’m greedy. I wish there was more; more of his guitar playing, more of his lyrics, more of his voice. It’s very hard for me to accept his discography as being tragically finite.

Rowland S. Howard is one of the greatest guitar players ever, and it doesn't feel redundant to say that. He’s criminally overlooked compared to his alt-rock peers, despite his influence being heard across post-punk, shoegaze, and noise rock. RSH was just as incredible as a lyricist too, which he gets even less recognition for. Despite this obscurity, he has a devoted cult following who worships everything he does musically, myself included.

I think RSH’s status as an underground cult figure suits him well, even just based on appearance. He never seemed to revel in the spotlight; he usually played with his head down or sang with his eyes closed, never giving the audience too much attention. No matter what, RSH always looked effortlessly cool on stage. He towered over his guitar, playing it with either a sense of fragility or hostility, and usually, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

RSH’s most well-known work was as the guitarist for the Birthday Party. Though, his involvement in the band gets overshadowed by Nick Cave, who was later able to find some mainstream appeal. I don’t think most Nick Cave fans realize how influential RSH was in shaping the sound, mood, and aesthetics of the Birthday Party, which later informed the Bad Seeds. Before he joined, the Boys Next Door (later named the Birthday Party) had a more art-rock sound. RSH joining the group is what changed everything. Compare side one of Door, Door to side two and you’ll hear his impact. They suddenly had a more ominous sound, abstract lyrics, and were starting to form their distinct artistry. RSH brought his own songs too when he joined, one of which was “Shivers.” “Shivers” was a defining moment in Nick Cave’s development as a singer and frontman, and it was written by RSH when he was 16. RSH regularly dismissed the song later in his career, but it will always be proof of his brilliance.

RSH’s sound is so recognizable from his discordant guitar playing to his sullen voice. No matter what he was involved with, he brought his signature tone that transformed the music. RSH had this innate talent for creating atmosphere; it’s the way he used space and feedback in his guitar playing. It always gave the music an emotional depth without him needing to say a word. And when he did sing, his voice intensified the mood of his playing, usually to a chilling degree.

RSH’s sound comes down to him being a very expressive artist, which you hear in all his work. Genevieve McGuckin described it as being like “the guitar was plugged right into his soul.” His playing could go from being very gentle to very jagged, as heard on “Autoluminescent” going into “Sleep Alone” on Teenage Snuff Film. No matter what sound he embodied, it was always emotionally charged.

Even when his playing was more subdued, RSH still commanded the entire mood and atmosphere by himself. There’s something about seeing/hearing him alone on stage that makes his music even more poignant. The first example I think of is a performance of “Silver Chain” he’s playing in a bar. “Silver Chain” is already such a visceral song, but to hear it played to an unsuspecting audience while RSH is singing some of the most confessional lyrics ever written, is almost too much to bear. I genuinely need to brace myself every time I hear this performance. “Heroin lied to me” is just devastating.

It’s not just the sullen nature of his work that makes RSH a tragic figure in music. He’s someone who was insanely talented, but his artistic output was set back because of his struggles with addiction and health complications. All his work touched on these issues to different extents, but you really hear it on his solo albums. Pop Crimes specifically.

Despite his health problems, he had new material and got his solo band back together. It’s an anticipated release too; RSH is finally getting some recognition outside his cult following. Then, his health makes a drastic decline, the album is rushed to get finished, and he passes two months after its release. Pop Crimes is a devastating listen not just because his death came soon after, but because RSH knew it was inevitable while he was recording the album. His work has always been existential to varying degrees, but Pop Crimes is oppressively existential. Foreboding too, especially with his cover of “Life’s What You Make It.” The entire album is just steeped in regret; regret for love, regret for life, regret for ambitions. The music being so good doesn’t make his loss any easier to bear.

Of course, RSH is more than just a tragic, overlooked figure in music. All his friends and bandmates attest he was intelligent, funny, witty, and of course, extremely talented. This always came across in his interviews and music. But the tragedy is so intertwined with the music, it’s hard to separate the two. It’s also what makes his work so resonant. He had such a beautiful, blunt way of expression whether it’s through his guitar playing or lyricism. There’s so much to celebrate about RSH, but so much to mourn too. All hail the crown prince of the crying jag.

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