The Jesus of Uncool

You grew up in a rural part of southwest England, in a pretty religious environment. How did that affect you?
I grew up with the prospect of heaven and hell looming ever large. What I grew up with was, if you even think about boobs, you're going to hell. It was drilled in: These things are wrong. It was black and white, the way it still is for millions of right-wing Christians in the middle of America. I spent a year thinking I would be punished if I sang "Sympathy for the Devil," by the Rolling Stones.

Punished as in go to hell?
Yeah. When I was about 14, the first band I was in wanted to play "Black Magic Woman." And I was like, "I can't sing that, because I will get bad karma." As a kid, you don't know any better. But then as you go on, the cracks begin to appear and you're like, "I'm not sure about this hell thing. And I'm not sure whether it's really wrong to be gay, and I'm not sure whether we're right and they're wrong."

Did you ever think you might be gay?
It was more like, "Oh, shit, what if?" Because I was brought up to think that was really wrong. But then it struck me: Who gives a shit? And then it wasn't a problem. It sounds silly to say it now, but when you're a kid you think, "I'm going to burn in hell for eternity if I like other guys or if I marry someone Jewish."

I guess something convinced you finally that you were, in fact, straight.
Well, I was swayed by boobs. Let's face it. They're fantastic.

What was the first music you responded to as a kid?
Probably Bad, by Michael Jackson, and "Take on Me," by A-ha. And then we'd always be in church, so the thing I heard most was hymns. That's probably where all the life-and-death stuff in our music comes from.

When did you start singing?
The first time I ever sang in public was in a school concert when I was 11. I sang a song I had written about newspapers. Some people really dug it. And others didn't. I remember these two girls came up to me afterward and said, "We heard you singing," and then they both giggled and ran off, as if to say, "It was shit." And my whole life has been that day repeating ever since.

Then why did you continue?
I forgot about singing for a while, then some friends wanted to play "Sweet Child o' Mine" in a concert at school. I said, "Wow, let me sing it." At the end, this guy Tom said to me, "Chris, could you sing it a little less like Tina Turner?" And I was like, "I wasn't! I was trying to sound like Axl Rose!"