"Kingdom"

1996. Devin Townsend is hammered in Las Vegas.

He watches Fear Factory step off stage at The Palace in Hollywood, Las Vegas. 

Iron Maiden are up next. 

As Maiden’s frontman Blaze Bailey – Bruce Dickinson’s recent replacement – takes to the stage, Townsend is introduced to a formidable figure.

The former Death drummer, Gene Hoglan. 

Devin is impressed.

“I remember the Death records you played on,” he slurs. 

Gene steps forward then, supporting his massive (and equally inebriated) frame with a walking stick.

“I really like that first Strapping record you did.”

Devin blinks. Tries to clear his mind before he speaks.

“Great… Do you want to play on the new one? I record it in two weeks.”

Over the next decade, Devin and Gene Hoglan would have a storied career working together. The two gelled immediately, and it was clear they shared similar musical sensibilities.

Townsend had already written Strapping Young Lad’s City (1997) and had pre-programmed “complicated”, Meshuggah- and Fear Factory-inspired pattens into a drum machine. 

He was used to drummers “interpreting” his ideas, but Hoglan listened to Townsend’s tracks, and replicated them with absolute precision. Hoglan’s work ethic and musicality impressed Townsend from the outset.

Townsend then recruited Byron Stroud (bass) who he’d previously played with in Caustic Thought, as well as Jed Simon (guitar), the guitarist he’d replaced when Byron had first called him. 

This was not only the full-line of Strapping Young Lad… it was also the line-up that Townsend would later recruit for the recording of his solo album, Physicist (2000). 

After the release of City, Townsend continued to invest heavily in his solo career.

In the same year, Townsend also released his solo album Ocean Machine: Biomech (1997). At times joyful, at times melancholic, Ocean Machine serves as a foil to the vitriol and raw aggression of his early work in SYL. 

But it wasn’t just career interests driving Townsend. A new “spiritual” focus had overtaken him that would influence the sound and shape of all his music going forward.

Indeed his use (and eventual abuse) of psychedelics would lead him to disband Strapping Young Lad after City, convinced that SYL’s aesthetic was too “toxic” for his mental wellbeing, having recently been diagnosed as bipolar.

During this period in the late 90s, Townsend indulged in mushroom trips that lasted up to 6 hours… believing he was being sent “divine information” that only he was privy to. 

He refused to allow the aggression and violence of SYL to surface. His quest towards something more divine blocked him from creating sounds that didn’t seem “holy” and “pure”. 

This first led to Infinity (1998) – a heavy album that lacked the snarling rage that drove albums like City. 

This was Townsend’s attempt to piece together the “duality” he felt as a person and musician… and which was first expressed in the “yin and yang” of his two releases from the previous year, City and Ocean Machine: Biomech.

Despite the “humiliation” he now feels thinking back to that era, he did end that period closer than ever to reaching that “duality” he was seeking.

And to this day, Infinity remains one of Townsend’s favourite solo albums. 

Physicist (2000) was Townsend’s musical reaction to his psychedelic fallout after Infinity, as well as his recent bipolar diagnosis. 

In a somewhat cruel twist of fate, at this stage in his career, Townsend was more famous for the extreme, industrial metal of SYL, than the more commercially viable, and frankly beautiful music, produced under his own name – the music he actually wanted to make.

Physicist was the direct, volatile result of trying to combine the aggression of Strapping Young Lad (SYL) and the melodic nature of his solo music into a single entity. Townsend forced the two worlds to collide – with chaotic consequences.

The most literal intersection of his split identities could be seen within the lineup for the album. Although Physicist is considered one of Townsend’s “solo” albums, Townsend enlisted help from all the members of the group he’d recently disbanded, Strapping Young Lad. 

The result, according to Townsend, was “Strapping Lite”:

This “poppy” sensibility might be most evident on “Kingdom” – a song that remains a staple of Townsend’s setlists to this day. 

The blast beats that Devin had introduced to Hoglan in 1997 on his drum machine come to the fore on “Kingdom”. The mechanised-sounding, machine gun drum blasts that pervade throughout the verses make the song instantly recognisable.

Reflecting his mental state post-Infinity, the lyrics  are a plea for spiritual and emotional stability after splitting his psyche between extreme anger and extreme vulnerability. The song is self-aware and Townsend recognises his earlier folly during the Infinity years.

He understands that the “purity” and “divinity” he was searching for doesn’t exist without an acknowledgement of the heavier, more aggressive elements of his psyche. This is, of course, emphasised by Hoglan’s extreme drums that drive the verses mercilessly forward into the pre-chorus:

He’s also aware of the pain he caused others in his circle, including – and probably, especially – his wife at the time, Tracy: 

In his autobiography, Townsend describes in detail the strain put on his wife, family and close friends. “Kingdom” then serves as a public apology to everyone around him who was affected by his obsessiveness during the Infinity sessions, as well as his descent into drug-induced psychosis. He repeatedly implores her to “stay with me” and “play with me” throughout the song.

In the final verse, his plea for those around him to stop worrying about him becomes more emotional, and his frustration is palpable:

It seems that, despite having spent months in his own psychotic hell, nothing compared to the fury he faced from the “woman” closest to him. 

When you search “Devin Townsend Kingdom” on YouTube, you’ll inevitably find more “vocal coaches” and “opera singer” reaction videos than actual footage of the song. 

And the song they’re reacting to is not this first version from 2000. Townsend grew to dislike the mix on Physicist, feeling the album's production lacked the energy of his previous works:

The most famous version of “Kingdom” appears on Epicloud, an album he released with the Devin Townsend Project in 2012, or any of his performances from that point forward, such as his “viral” solo performance for EMGtv (sitting at around 7.2 million views at the time of writing):

It’s true that the 2012 version of Townsend’s “Kingdom” more closely captures Townsend’s darkness and light. 

Hoglan’s blasting drum tracks are “replicated” by Ryan Van Poederooyen, carrying forward that spiritual connection and “darkness” from the original track.

But the vocals don’t have the compressed, tinny sound of the original. Instead they soar operatically over the industrial drums, transforming into extreme harsh vocals at the most emotional points of the song. 

The song also features vocals from long-time collaborator, Anneke van Giersbergen. She plays the “woman” in the song. Their interplay throughout  raises the emotional stakes and the song’s updated production gives it a more ethereal, epic and massive sound.

Having almost lost his personal “Kingdom” – his spirituality, his mental health and his wife – this song (which clearly is of personal importance to him) also needed to be reclaimed from the muddy mix on Physicist. 

And as I listen back to the magisterial version of the song from Epicloud, it’s clear that Townsend was successful in his reclamation project.

The evolution of "Kingdom" represents Townsend finally learning how to blend his heavy and melodic sides elegantly, rather than violently clashing them together as he did on Physicist.

On the Epicloud album, “Kingdom” is followed by the song “Divine”, in which Townsend croons the lyrics:

These words serve as an addendum to the already-apologetic “Kingdom”. But maybe this is the point we need to stop reading into things. 

As Townsend notes in his autobiography:

🤘 Horns up 🤘

Shane 
Editor-in-Chief
The Chug Media