Confess: The Autobiography by Rob Halford

Author:Rob Halford [Halford, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: 0306874946
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2020-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

Early summer rolled around and the time had come for Priest to pack our plectrums and our Speedos and head for the Bahamas to record the Twin Turbos album. We flew out in early June and hooked up with Tom Allom at Compass Point Studios in Nassau.

We had settled on that location because we thought, in a residential studio, we’d be working and living together and focusing fully on the music. Quite why we imagined a Caribbean hot spot would have no distractions escapes me now. Had we learned nothing from Ibiza?

The first thing we learned on arrival was that Columbia had turned down our request to make a double album. We couldn’t understand it—surely, we were just giving them extra music, for free? But we had no choice but to accept their ruling. So, goodbye, Twin Turbos; hello, Turbo.

The Caribbean was as picture-perfect as in the holiday brochures, all white beaches and glittering azure seas, yet I don’t remember being all that blown away on arrival. What really excited me was that I had finally finished my hepatitis treatment and I could drink again.

And, fuck, did I make up for those six months!

I quickly learned the local art of shotgunning beer. This involved taking an oversize can of mind-blowingly strong Jamaican Red Stripe lager and gouging a hole in the bottom of the tin with a screwdriver. You then tipped the can over your mouth and yanked the ring pull.

WHOOSH! The rush of pressurized air would force the lager out of the bottom of the tin and into your mouth at high speed, meaning you got pissed in no time at all. It was fantastic—where had it been all my life?

Just after we arrived, I flew Jeff from Surgical Steel out for a weekend. We held a Shotgun Olympics and spent the entire two days, with a stopwatch, timing our Red Stripe shotgunning contests. I was proud of my personal best: two-and-a-half seconds.

Initially, Priest knuckled down well on Turbo. The palaver with the PMRC was fresh in my mind, and I wanted to push back against the self-appointed, puritanical censors. The chorus of “Parental Guidance” was hardly subtle, but left no doubt where we stood:

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