Lzzy Hale is a rock/metal badass! Known for her commanding vocals and guitar skills in the Grammy Award-winning band Halestorm, Hale offers emphatic screams, dramatic singing and nonstop energy throughout Halestorm’s catalogue, as Hale’s powerful voice lifts these moving metal ragers to the next level. Hits like “I Miss the Misery” and “Love Bites (So Do I)” are forces of rock nature. Halestorm is set to perform at 7:30 p.m., Friday, Oct. 2, at Agua Caliente Rancho Mirage. For tickets and more information, visit www.aguacalientecasinos.com.
What was the first concert you attended?
Technically, the first concert that I attended, when I was 2, was Cheap Trick with my parents right outside of Pennsylvania, but I don’t remember that. The first concert that I actually bought tickets to was Tool during the beginning of the Lateralus tour. It was awesome. I had nightmares for, like, a month, but not in a bad way—just really trippy dreams, because they had contortionists coming from the ceiling and everything. It was wild.
What was the first album you owned?
The first cassette tape that I bought was the single for “High Enough” by Damn Yankees, because it was in the $2 section of our local record store when CDs were coming in and cassettes were out. I think Janis Joplin’s Greatest Hits was the first album that I ended up getting.
What bands are you listening to right now?
Dead Poet Society. The new stuff that they just put out is absolutely incredible and super-different, and has this fresh take on it. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I’m really in love with Prizefighter, the new Mumford and Sons album. The lyrics just cut me real deep right now for some reason. Amyl and the Sniffers, I’m still into what they’re doing, and I’ve been following them for years, but I’m going to end up seeing them for the first time in October, so I’m very excited about that.
What artist, genre or musical trend does everyone love, but you don’t get?
People are going to hate me for this, but the pop-punk scene. It was never a part of my wheelhouse, and for some reason, even to this day, I don’t really dig into that. I guess it’s not that I don’t get it; it’s just every time I try to find something about it that I can see myself reflected in, I can’t do it. It’s not that I don’t respect it; I just don’t put that on.
What musical act, current or defunct, would you most like to see perform live?
Pretty much everybody who I grew up listening to that isn’t around anymore. I’m going to have to go back and say Zeppelin, right when they were first starting to emerge. I’ve seen footage of them performing live before anybody really knew what was going on, and the entire audience is so confused—and that would be so incredible to go and just witness.
What’s your favorite musical guilty pleasure?
I have two. One is a contemporary Christian artist in the ’90s called Michael W. Smith. His songs are really cheesy, but they hit me right through the heart. Also, Madonna’s Ray of Light album. For some reason, I go back to that, and it’s such a guilty pleasure. I try not to talk about it with my friends, but it’s getting to the point where I’m like, “You know what? It’s fine.” I’m not going to put it on at a party, because nobody will be into it but me, but (I listen) in my private moments.
What’s your favorite music venue?
It’s kind of a small club, but The Machine Shop in Flint, Mich. I don’t know what’s up with that place, but every time we go there, it feels like home, and it kind of feels like you’re playing in Dad’s garage or something, and all your buddies are there.
What’s the one song lyric you can’t get out of your head?
There’s a Jason Isbell song, “If We Were Vampires,” that every single time that this line comes up—I don’t know what he does with second verses, but they always make me cry. In the second verse, he says, “If we were vampires and death was a joke / We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke / Laugh at all the lovers and their plans / I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand / Maybe time running out is a gift / I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift / And give you every second I can find / And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind.” This is talking about somebody leaving first. You love someone, and one of you is going to die first—it’s such a simple concept, but every single time, it breaks me open if it comes on in the car.
What band or artist changed your life? How?
I’m going to say Ronnie James Dio. We ended up, by a crazy fluke accident, getting thrown on Heaven and Hell’s last show ever with Ronnie, because it was right before Ronnie was diagnosed. We got to play this show, and he hung out with us all night, and he was like Uncle Ronnie. … At the end of the night, he walked us out to our RV, which we were touring in at the time, and said, “Hey, stay here; I’m going to sign some stuff, but I want to come back and say goodbye.” We watched him sign everything for everyone and take every picture, and then he still came back to our vehicle to say goodbye at the end of the night. I said something to the effect of, “Ronnie, we would have understood if you’re just tired, but thank you so much for taking the time for us and coming back,” and he wags a finger in my face, and he’s like, “Lzzy, this is a moment in time. You’re never going to remember all the places you play or the people that you meet, but they’re going to remember meeting you for the rest of their life.” Here I’m thinking that he’s giving me advice for our fans, but then after he passed, I’m thinking about this thing that he said to me, and I’m like, “Oh my god, he actually gave me that moment.” He gave me that moment in time where I’m never going to forget the effort that he went through to make sure that I felt welcome and got face time with him, so it’s something that I carry with me all the time, and I think about it at every show. I kind of have this, “What would Ronnie James Dio do?” mentality since that day.
You have one question to ask one musician. What’s the question, and who are you asking?
I’m going to have to go on the Janis Joplin route again, whereas I want to know what those parties were really like. Everybody was hanging out at that point in time, and just being on the cusp of something new, and everybody’s writing and jamming together—I want to know what those parties were really like, not just what people have told me.
What song would you like played at your funeral?
Off the top of my head, “Another One Bites the Dust” would be hilarious, and add a little bit of comedic nature, but honestly, I feel like something more celebratory. I don’t necessarily want something sad. How about “Ballroom Blitz,” just to make anybody, especially certain members of my extended family, a little uncomfortable?
Figurative gun to your head, what is your favorite album of all time?
I’m going to have to go with Jeff Buckley’s Grace. If you had asked me 10 years ago, I would have picked Alice Cooper or something like that, but there’s something about Jeff Buckley’s Grace that, it doesn’t matter how much time has gone by, I still learn something new from it. My guitarist and I recently brought that album up and are learning some of the chord progressions for certain songs that we’ve known forever, but we just have never taken the time to learn. It’s something that you can continually discover something from—it doesn’t just stay in one timeline.
What song should everyone listen to right now?
I’m going to go back to the latest Dead Poet Society. They have a song called “Roach” that I think is awesome, and it will absolutely put you in a mood. It’s thick with vibe.
