IT’S MIDNIGHT
Jamie Walters of Cleveland's sleaziest metal band gives CREEM a look under the hood.
“The bullet grazed me.”
We’re sitting in Jamie Walters’ backyard in suburban Cleveland. It’s the same neighborhood he grew up in. Across the street: the house where his childhood friend tried to shoot him.
It was 1984. Miami Vice was popular. Walters’ friend—who also still lives in the neighborhood— called him upstairs. “When I walked up, he pulled his parents’ gun out of the dresser, loaded, and says, 'Freeze! Miami Vice!’ The bullet grazed my arm, and it’s still in the archway of the door. But I survived, a real trouper at 11 years old.”
If you know anything about Walters’ band, Midnight, it’s probably this: (1) They sound like the unholy union of Motorhead and Venom, high on loose women, exotic powders, and whatever else they can get their hands on; and (2) lyrically, they lean heavily into sleaze and, like, Satan. Songs like “Endless Slut,” “Penetratal Ecstasy,” and “All Hail Hell” tell the tale. They slash and burn before slashing and burning again.