When Gavin Rossdale was writing what would become Bush’s just-released 10th studio album, I Beat Loneliness, the 59-year-old would potter around the kitchen of his house in Los Angeles, making a snack as the gnarly, metal-adjacent riffs of his band blasted out of the spare-room-turned-studio speakers at full volume. “There’s no one there, so I’d just leave the track on loop with these ideas dominating the whole house,” he recalls. “Go get something to eat and see what it triggers.”
It’s an unusually domestic picture of a rock star, but one that suits Rossdale’s somewhat unique situation well. A heavy-riffing icon in certain circles, with more than 20 million album sales, a Billboard Number One in 1996’s second record, Razorblade Suitcase, and a career that’s spanned more than 30 years — plus a 13-year marriage to Gwen Stefani, with whom he has three children (they divorced in 2015) — Rossdale still flies comparatively under the radar to the wider world.
A couple of days before we speak, Bush headlined New York’s iconic Madison Square Garden but most of the people on his street, he says, are clueless about his activities. “I can be on tour for six months, killing myself on stage, slaying it every night, and then I’ll put the rubbish out and my neighbour will say, ‘Hey man, good to see you, what have you been up to?’” he laughs with mock outrage. “F***! It’s humbling!”
Since breaking through with 1994 debut Sixteen Stone, it’s a duality that the Marylebone-born frontman has become very familiar with. Riding the crest of the MTV generation wave, Bush became massive in the States in a way that never quite translated to home shores. Each album of theirs without fail has charted higher across the pond. “I’ve had 28 hits in America, but I’m a one-hit wonder in England,” he notes, alluding to second album single, Swallowed.
“You have to be supported by the industry, and have records played on Radio 1 or the BBC at some point. [In America] we had radio and MTV who wanted us to win, and in England…” he trails off pointedly before shrugging: “You didn’t want me to win!”
Far from embittered, however, Rossdale presents his case with the affable manner of a man who’s long given up on caring about any lost victories he might not have scored. He’s a talker: a stream of consciousness style gabber with an equal tendency for very Californian post-therapy speak about gratitude and acceptance, and very British pisstaking and the occasional punctuated “f***!”. Perhaps because of his varying popularity around the globe, he appears to be that rarest of things: an older generation rocker with very little ego.
“Why should I expect that people would like me? That’s pretty entitled. It’s much more fun to think, ‘F***! Look how many people like me!’” he posits. “Why should I be as big as Suede or Blur? I never said I should. Maybe there’s not as many people that [love] us as much as they love Coldplay, but then no one likes anyone as much as Coldplay. They’re the biggest band in the world.” The people that do love Bush, however, are the ones that helped steer the musician’s focus on I Beat Loneliness. While pootling around his kitchen (where he’s also been filming recent TV series Dinner with Gavin Rossdale, in which he invites a host of celeb mates including Serena Williams and his former The Voice co-judge Sir Tom Jones round for a meal), he began thinking about connection.
“I spend a lot of time talking to fans outside of the shows, and they’re not asking what trousers to get or where I’d recommend the best taco in town — which ironically I would know because I’ve been doing this other culinary shit. They’re mainly asking what the lyrics are about,” he says. “I’m from north London so obviously I don’t take myself that seriously, but when people take the songs you make and make them serious for themselves, then it’s intense.”
As such, Rossdale felt the need to dig deep, emerging with a collection of songs that examine the fractured nature of society with a frustration and antagonism — both lyrical and sonic — not usually associated with a musician approaching their seventh decade on the earth. “A lot of the music I’m inspired by is quite aggressive. You could put a screamo singer on a lot of the music we make [these days] and they’d have a field day,” he notes.
One of those inspirations was the legendary Black Sabbath frontman and bat-biting hellraiser Ozzy Osbourne. When the Brummie icon passed away last week, Rossdale posted a picture of the two of them together, calling Osbourne “a great man… a true legend… so warm and kind and funny”.
“He just stood for so much. He’s one of the greatest frontmen ever, so for me, I’m a disciple of that talent and that stage presence and that connection with an audience,” Rossdale nods today. “It’s the same thing when you think of Freddie Mercury or John Lydon or Perry Farrell: all these specific frontmen that are a bit of a dying breed.”
He pinpoints Yungblud as a current generation star who could fit into that lineage. “I’ve gotten to know him more recently in connection with Ozzy and that blinding performance he did at his farewell show, and then that brilliant video [of Yungblud gifting Osbourne a cross necklace]. I loved that. It reminded me of my relationship with Tom Jones — the connection they have was really beautiful.
“To me, finding your audience is like cracking a code because otherwise it’s just f***ing noise,” he continues. “If you don’t have a point of view, or know who you are and what you stand for, it’s hard for people to connect to you. Either music is magnetic or it’s not, and I find the magnetic stuff usually makes you feel seen and understood. When I first started reading Bowie’s lyrics to Ziggy Stardust, something in me felt like I’d found something. Similarly when I found Pixies or Ozzy and Black Sabbath, I found a blueprint.”
It’s a blueprint that Rossdale has taken and shaped into what he readily describes as “a wild, elevated life”. Last month, he added “father of the bride” to his list of CV credits when he flew back to the UK for the wedding of model Daisy Lowe — his daughter with Pearl Lowe; Rossdale has been on good terms with them for years after initially breaking contact when a paternity test revealed he was Daisy’s father in 2004 — and property developer Jordan Saul. His speech, it seems, was perhaps more nerve-wracking that even playing Madison Square Garden. “Her mum and her other dad’s speeches — Danny [Goffey, Supergrass drummer] and Pearl — they were both so good. They touched on a number of things that I also touched on and you can’t repeat it, so I had to filter that stuff out, and to make it worse they were both so funny and so brilliant that I was like… f***! I’ve got to really up the ante just to keep the night going!” he laughs. “All I wanted to do was represent for Daisy as a strong father and give the right speech: not too long, not too soppy, no tears, a lot of love and it’s got to be funny. So it was great.”
In life as in art, Rossdale speaks about it all with the openness and curiosity of someone who’s realised that perhaps the key to winning isn’t about radio plays or outside metrics of success, but simply following your heart and enjoying the ride. “It’s that brilliant conundrum where the more you learn, the more you realise how much more you need to know,” he says before clarifying as our call comes to an end, keen not to offend: “By the way, I really appreciate England, I don’t carry a big chip on my shoulder at all. I just try to sing in tune and be entertaining and then I f*** off.” And then he does, back to his massive US hits, his nice kitchen and his upside-down type of fame, where Gavin Rossdale continues to have a very un-lonely life indeed.
I Beat Loneliness is out now. Bush are touring the UK in November
