Chris Cheney sounds energised… maybe even a little restless. The Living End frontman is talking about the band’s new album, I Only Trust Rock n Roll, and he’s quick to admit the spark came from chaos. Living in Los Angeles during the George Floyd riots and the first wave of the pandemic lit a fire under him that hadn’t burned this hot in years.
“I reckon you just go through certain phases where you wake up and go, ‘What the fuck is actually going on?’” he says. “We got the hell out of there on those repatriation flights with the military escort. That felt like the beginning of the madness that just seems to be ongoing.”
For Cheney, the turbulence didn’t just colour his worldview — it shaped the band’s sound. “I suppose I just felt a bit more pissed off in the last few years than what I felt in the previous 10 or 15. So it feels a bit like the big brother of our first record. It feels like I had something to say again, on more of a world scale.”
If The Living End’s 1998 debut Prisoner of Society was a middle finger raised to authority, I Only Trust Rock n Roll is the clenched fist that follows. Revisiting that first album for its 25th anniversary reminded Cheney of the raw power that comes from keeping things simple.
“I had to go back and relearn some of those songs and dissect how I was playing those guitar parts,” he recalls. “It was an amazing album to revisit. I thought, ‘Okay, are we the same band as that?’ Probably not — but they’re still in there somewhere. I just started wanting to write stuff that was faster, more aggressive, more direct. How about we just try and make a great straight-up aggressive rock and roll record again?”
Cheney recently unearthed a box of VHS tapes from the band’s early American tours, digitising footage of their first trip to the US where they supported Green Day and played Letterman. Watching it back was a surreal experience. “It was like looking at another person,” he admits. “I kept thinking, ‘Wow, I didn’t realise how big we were at that point.’ We were 24 and touring the world. What I wouldn’t give to have that now. But at the same time, I’m thankful we’re still here, still making what I think is the best record we’ve made in years.”
The decision meant binning more complex songs in favour of stripped-down energy. “I write 400 songs for every damn record, which drives the other two crazy,” he laughs. “But I think we just kept stripping things further and further back. If it didn’t service the song, press delete. Get back to what the essence of this band is. If the hooks are good, keep it streamlined and simple — it’ll rock so much harder.”
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“I think 24-year-old me would dig this record,” Cheney adds. “He’d hear Elvis Costello in it, hear The Clash in it. It feels like a reawakening of all the things we wanted to be when we first started the band.”
Among the album’s fiercest statements is “Public Holiday”, a direct challenge to Australia Day’s contested date. Cheney doesn’t mince his words.
“It makes me sad that we can’t have a conversation about it where anything changes. Where’s the compassion, the consideration for that section of the community that doesn’t want to celebrate on that day?” he says. “It’s been different days throughout history. Let’s choose a day where everyone can be a part of it. We’re better than that.”
Does he worry about alienating fans? “I would’ve in the past, but not now. If it offends people, then whatever. That’s okay,” Cheney admits. “I hope maybe some people that follow the band might go, ‘You know what? Yeah, you’re right.’”
Not every track is outwardly political. Songs like “Misery” and “Private Hell” draw from Cheney’s own battles, territory he first explored on his 2022 solo album The Storm Before the Calm.
“That record came out of very dark periods in my life,” he reveals. “It was the most personal I’d ever written. People were telling me ‘I actually like this better than your band stuff.’ And I thought, ‘Wow — that’s real songwriting, not just flashy playing or stage antics.’ It was raw and cathartic, and people really reacted to it.”
Another theme woven through the record is a resistance to curated, online perfection, with Cheney taking aim at influencer culture and the selfie generation on “Camera”.
“There’s a whole generation of kids now discovering dirty, grungy rock and roll bands because it is real,” he says. “The perfection is in the imperfection, because they’ve only grown up in this era of everything just seeming so photoshopped. Life is photoshopped. But art doesn’t need to be perfect. The grungy, ugly stuff — that’s where the beauty is.”
It’s a philosophy Cheney credits to being old enough to remember life before likes and algorithms. “Back then, if someone liked you, they came the following week to see you play again,” he remembers. “That was it. And a lot of those people are still with us now.”
The album closes with its title track, a statement Cheney admits came from a place of disillusionment.
“All the shit going on overseas caused by political views and religious views… I don’t trust any of that. I don’t trust any of them. I only trust rock and roll,” he says. “It’s reliable. My favourite records lift me up every single time. Hearing a great song on the radio can change my whole day. That’s what it’s always been about.”
For Cheney, the new record isn’t just about sound — it’s about intent. “We have to come off and blow every other band off stage. That’s just the way it has to be,” he insists. “You see footage of AC/DC with Bon Scott or early Midnight Oil, it’s untouchable. That’s the bar. It needs to be like, ‘We’re going to go out there and kick ass. And if it’s not, then I’m out.’”
“Playing a Living End show now is like an endurance sport,” he laughs. “We don’t have many ballads, it’s full throttle from start to finish. We demand that vibe whether it’s a hundred people or ten thousand. The audience has to explode, and we have to come off stage completely ruined. That’s just who we are.”
That attitude carries into their upcoming tour, where the band will play I Only Trust Rock n Roll alongside their debut. “It’s ambitious, yeah, but we wanted to make it special,” Cheney says. “It’s sold incredibly well, two shows already sold out, and it’s gratifying because it shows people still think this band is relevant live.”
More than 25 years on from Prisoner of Society, The Living End are still chasing that same fire. And, if Cheney has his way, they’ll keep burning until there’s nothing left.
“If The Living End is tired, then we’re finished. But right now? We’re more ferocious than ever.”
The Living End’s I Only Trust Rock n Roll is out now via BMG. Their upcoming tour dates can be found here.
