Written By Kevin McSweeney
April 14th 2025 marks, astonishingly, the fifteenth anniversary of the untimely passing of Type O Negative frontman Peter Steele, who died at just 48 years of age as a result of sepsis caused by diverticulitis. Today therefore is a sad occasion for all those who loved the music he made, both with The Drab Four and his previous outfit, the crossover thrash band Carnivore. As such, it is an occasion that elicits much mourning and the wearing of black. (So, no change there then.)
Steele was a bundle of glorious contradictions. He was known for his lugubrious demeanour and pessimistic outlook, but also for his dry, sardonic, self-deprecating (and occasionally puerile) humour. He was a towering and intimidating physical specimen, but doted on his beloved cats. The grief of losing one led him to write the title track of Bloody Kisses, one of the most morose songs in the band’s back catalogue (which is truly saying something!) He joked about his ugliness, introducing the band’s most famous song Black No.1 by quipping that: “…with a face like mine, every day is Halloween”, yet he became an object of desire for fans all over the world, not least when he appeared nude in Playgirl magazine in 1995. He was known for his remarkable vocal ability, and astonishing range – famed especially for his deep, resonant, bass-baritone croon, though he was also adept at singing in much higher registers. Yet, when he performed in London in 2007 with the reformed Carnivore, a member of the audience requested that the vocals be turned up, as they were too low in the mix, Steele responded by saying: “Turn the vocals up? No! Turn the vocals down! I suck!” His vocals, I hasten to add, certainly did not suck.
Type O Negative were so much more than the gothic metal label imposed on them, even if they were regarded as the definitive example thereof. You could pick four songs at random from their aforementioned magnum opus, and play them to someone who was unfamiliar with the band, and they’d possibly think they were listening to four different artists. Sure, they were gothic, but they were also crossover thrash, doom metal, industrial metal, and even a psychedelic band, as evidenced by tracks like Set Me on Fire and Can’t Lose You on Bloody Kisses where a Sixties-style organ was deployed instead of the customary funereal church organ, and even a sitar crept into proceedings, as was often the case with The Beatles in their later years. Indeed, the influence of The Fab Four could often be heard in the music of The Drab Four, especially on songs like Less Than Zero and September Sun,with their trippy melodies and sumptuous vocal harmonies, not to mention the medley of Beatles songs that brings World Coming Down to a close.
Perhaps Steele’s ultimate artistic achievement was to be able to write songs that were often lengthy in duration but never boring. Songs that exceed the six-minute mark can often become monotonous and repetitive, but this was never the case with Type O Negative’s music. Also, they had a rare ability to be able to perform cover versions and make them completely their own, and often virtually unrecognisable, but without sacrificing what made the original so compelling as to warrant being covered in the first place. An example of this would be their version of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, where they turned one of Sabbath’s shortest songs, at less than three minutes, into an elegiac epic lasting over seven minutes, and incorporating a bit of Iron Man to boot. Other examples of this include their reworking of Neil Young’s Cinnamon Girl on their October Rust album, and my personal favourite, their version of Status Quo’s Pictures of Matchstick Men, a version of which, featuring guest vocals from Ozzy Osbourne, is available on YouTube, and I highly recommend checking it out.
A few years ago, former Type O Negative guitarist Kenny Hickey gave an interview, in which he reflected on the polarising nature of their music. There were many who couldn’t stand the band, and some who actively hated them. There were few who were indifferent towards them. But, for the many people who loved them, it was a love that bordered on obsession – an obsessive love that endures long after the demise of the one who inspired it. How very gothic!
Rest in peace, Peter Steele, and thanks for the music and the memories. They made me less miserable.
