Theory of a Deadman
Rock is dead? Tyler Connolly says ‘Long Live Rock’
By Bill Kopp
It’s fashionable in some circles to declare rock as dead and buried. And while it’s true that other styles may have surpassed it sales-wise in the music marketplace, rock is very much alive. For evidence, one need only witness the sustained success of Theory of a Deadman. Formed nearly 25 years ago in Canada’s British Columbia Province, Theory soared to the top of the charts with their self-titled debut album.
Fronted by lead guitarist, vocalist and songwriter Tyler Connolly, the band took off and never looked back; in the band’s first 15 years, Theory placed every one of their albums in the Canadian Top Ten. Stateside success was a bit slower in coming, but once it did – with Theory’s third long player, 2008’s Scars & Souvenirs – there seemed to be no stopping the group. That record and the four albums that would follow each soared to the Top Ten on the U.S. Alternative Rock charts.
The group has landed a staggering 25 singles on the Mainstream Rock chart, with eight of those going Gold (500,000 units sold in the U.S.), Platinum (1 million units) or better. Along the way, Theory of a Deadman has filled arenas as an opening or headline act, in the process putting to rest any question as to whether rock is alive or dead.
Yet when it comes to critical success, the band’s track record stands in sharp contrast to its sales figures. Critics haven’t always been as kind as fans; a cross-section of reviewers writing for Allmusic.com, for example, has awarded each of the band’s first seven albums anywhere from a maximum of three stars out of five (for their debut and 2017’s Wake Up Call) down to one star for 2011’s The Truth Is…
Fortunately, Tyler Connolly isn’t bothered by all that. He admits that on occasion the band’s management sends him copies of reviews. “But they’re all positive,” he laughs. “I don’t know if that’s [being] filtered for us,” he says, though his next comment makes it clear that he knows the score. “We aren't a critically acclaimed band and never have been,” he concedes. “And at this point I think we've all accepted our fate.”
After decades within the machinery of the music business, Connolly has a clear sense of how things work. And while Theory has maintained a good working relationship with the band’s label Roadrunner Records (a division of the mighty Warner Music Group), he sees clouds on the horizon: not for rock itself, but for the industry.
“The labels are kind of freaking out,” he observes, “because they're losing control over something that they used to have complete control over.” He says that in today’s music scene, “the fans decide what a hit is, and in a lot of countries, radio is kind of dying.” It’s being replaced by streaming, he points out. And while that works out reasonably well for an established band like Theory (with a deep catalog of those seven albums, joined in mid-March by Dinosaur), it poses great challenges for newer, younger artists.
“Play listing and streaming are good if you have a fan base,” Connolly observes. “But I’m not sure what new bands are going to do; it’s going to be really tough.” While he seems fully committed to the future of his band, Connolly’s attitude about the prospects for the next wave of rockers is somewhat more pessimistic.
That dour mindset informs the band’s latest single, the hard-rocking title track from Dinosaur. Lyrics like “We’re all fucked, yeah, we can’t be saved,” and “Tonight we’re going out, going out like the dinosaur” suggest that even as the world is emerging from a global pandemic, Tyler Connolly doesn’t hold much hope for the future after all.
“I tend to think that we as humans, more than ever, are quite cynical and pessimistic,” he says. “As much as we want to pretend we're optimistic – ‘No, everything's going to be wonderful!’ – I think that inside, we're all kind of like, ‘This sucks. This is trash.’”
He says that “Dinosaur” builds on that kind of thinking. “I was playing on the human emotion of misery and the pessimism of the future things to come.” But in the same breath, he suggests that – just maybe – he’s not irrevocably convinced that we’re all going to Hell in a hand basket. “I think everything's going to be fine,” he says with a chuckle. “I don't think we're going to go out like the dinosaurs. [The song] is just a sentimental take on the glass-half-empty perspective.”
When it comes to lyrics, Connolly isn’t afraid to include something to amuse himself. “Dinosaur” features a snippet of lyrics, “20, 24 hours to go,” a direct lift from “I Wanna Be Sedated,” a classic from punk heroes the Ramones, featured on their breakthrough 1978 LP Road to Ruin. That inside reference is likely to be lost on many Theory of a Deadman fans. And that’s okay with Connolly. “Sometimes it's fun to do stuff like that and see who catches it,” he says. “You’re the first person to mention it.”
Sometimes, Connolly says, fans of his band know the words to songs that he wouldn't expect. He recalls a gig in Russia, years ago before that country launched its current war of aggression upon Ukraine. “We were just playing our normal set of songs,” he says. “And when we came back for the encore, the crowd was chanting: ‘Say goodbye! Say goodbye!’”
At first, Connolly and his band mates wondered what was going on. Was the crowd encouraging them to leave? But then they realized: “Oh, ‘Say Goodbye.’” The song was a deep album cut on Theory of a Deadman’s second album, 2005’s Gasoline. Save for a promotional-only CD, the song was never released as a single. But it had caught on in Russia. “It was our big song over there,” Connolly says. “This was before streaming, so we couldn’t even [track] what our popular songs were.”
Unfortunately for the Russian audience, Theory didn’t play the song for them. “We couldn’t,” Connolly explains, the embarrassment still stinging all these years later. “It had different [guitar] tunings.” But he made a note, and the next time the band played in Russia, they made sure to play “Say Goodbye.” “And they were really happy,” he says.
He points to Kiss as the musical masters of merchandising. “They've got Kiss coffins, Kiss pinball. And I think that as we get older, that's turning into our model. As we have a core fan base now, we're starting to do [those sorts of] things.” He mentions Deadman's Brew, a branded coffee, and says that the group is working on coming out with a Theory-branded alcoholic beverage. “Just like with the music,” he suggests, “we’re doing things to try to get ourselves out there.”
And a quarter century years after they started, the four members of Theory of a Deadman are committed to staying out there, playing their brand of 21st century rock. “Some bands actually broke up during COVID,” he says. “They weren't making money off streaming or sales.” Connolly emphasizes that he’s grateful that his group has a body of work that continues to sell. “Hopefully forever,” he says with a good-natured laugh. “We've been lucky. And I hope it will just keep going that way.”
THEORY OF A DEADMAN in Rock On Magazine
