Intermission - “Electric Eye” by Judas Priest (1982) and the “C” Word

From the album Screaming for Vengeance

Music and lyrics by Rob Halford, KK Downing and Glenn Tipton

Performed by:

Rob Halford – lead vocals

Glenn Tipton – lead guitar

KK Downing – rhythm guitar  

Ian Hill – bass

Dave Holland – drums

US Billboard Mainstream Rock - #38

There’s nothing you can do about it

Develop and expose

I feed upon your every thought

And so my power grows

I’m made of metal

My circuits gleam

I am perpetual

I keep the country clean

The word “hindsight” is one of those words that sounds non-sensical the more you say it out loud. Try it…”hindsight, hindsight, hindsight”. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? And what do they say about hindsight? It's always 20/20, right? We make decisions, and sometimes we have regrets, but with time comes the clarity that maybe we should have stepped back from the situation for a minute before making that decision. The clarity comes from not overthinking the situation the way we did when we were faced with all the options. Our brains, while useful, often get in the way of pure instinct, or just trusting our gut. “Crunching the numbers” , “sleeping on it", or lining up all those paint swatches side by side can actually make things worse. While telling these stories about these 50 songs that took me almost a year to choose, I have obviously had moments where I looked back and wondered if I chose correctly. Part of the reason I became so heavy-handed about eliminating songs as I got closer to 50 was so I would not have regrets or be tempted to make changes when I was trying to finalize the playlist. I could have spent several more months choosing if I did not set some serious boundaries. The thing about music is how subjective it can be; you probably have a different favorite song than you did a few months or even weeks ago. Picking 50 of my favorite songs over the course of a lifetime was not easy, and I’ve mentioned several times that I have zero regrets about the songs I chose, or about the personal stories attached to each.

Except one.

OK, it’s not really a regret; it’s more of a realization. After I posted the piece about the “B-Team”, or the Alternates, the songs that just missed the 50 At 50, I was listening to the accompanying playlist I put together, and there was one song that began to stand out. There was a bigger story behind that song, in plain sight, that I had only devoted a few sentences to in the original piece. It was a story I should have been sharing. It was an extremely important chapter in my life, maybe one of the most important chapters, and certainly the biggest challenge I had ever faced. I loved the song, the band, and the singer was one of my heroes. He had also shared with the world that he had faced the same challenge as me; in fact, he added a whole chapter about it to his autobiography when it was released in paperback. I began to see that I made a mistake, and that maybe I should have chosen this song, and told this story. But it soon became clear to me that perhaps I was actually avoiding sharing this story altogether, and that it was better left behind me, and that’s why I didn’t choose the song. I spent a lot of time thinking about whether to tell the story. It’s not that I’m hesitant to share my experience and journey with prostate cancer; it’s just that I never realized how connected I and my experience was to Judas Priest, their iconic singer, Rob Halford, and the song “Electric Eye”, until I wrote those few sentences about it, and saw there was so much more there. Then I thought, “Hey, Rob Halford himself added the chapter about his prostate cancer battle after the fact; why can’t I?” And then I recalled what my wife often says: “Sometimes in life, you’re allowed a mulligan.” So, you know what?  I’m taking my mulligan, right here. Think of “Electric Eye” as a bonus, or hidden track, and certainly not a replacement for any of the amazing 50 songs I’ve already selected. But there’s a lot to unpack here. There’s my diagnosis, the surgery, and the recovery; there’s the song itself, and how it and the music of Judas Priest were a source of inspiration to get better. Then there’s the man himself, Rob Halford, lead vocalist of Judas Priest and his wonderful memoir, Confess, in which he helps form one of the greatest heavy metal bands of all-time, becomes the Metal God, struggles with his sexuality for years, gets sober, leaves Judas Priest, goes solo, comes out as gay on MTV, reunites with Judas Priest, finds love, celebrates 50 years with Judas Priest…and then beats prostate cancer. But I’m not going to do a book report on Confess. It’s a story you can’t make up, so even if you’re not a metal fan, I urge you to read it. However, the music is an acquired taste, and I admit it’s not for everyone. I’ve listened to Judas Priest (and dozens and dozens of other metal bands), at maximum volume and never thought it was too loud. I’ve stood five rows from Rob Halford as he stood onstage at Jones Beach Theater with Judas Priest, and he screamed into the microphone, the seats shaking and the PA vibrating, and screamed the lyrics to “Breaking the Law”, “Hell Bent For Leather”, “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming”, and other anthems right back at him with 10,000 other fans, all of us wondering, “How the fuck does a human being do that with his voice?!?”, and I thought it was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. Someone else might see it as noise, or even be scared by it; I’ve never seen heavy metal music that way, but I understand that it’s not for everybody. My love for this music goes back a long way, to when I was twelve years old. Yes, Def Leppard, AC/DC and Van Halen had opened that door to heavier music, but it wasn’t until I discovered bands like Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Dio, and later, Metallica and Queensryche, that I realized the true release that music, especially heavy metal music, could provide. It’s easy to hear the songs, and see the imagery that often accompanies it, and pass it off as noise, or worse yet, see it as evil. It’s not, or I would not associate myself with it. Heavy metal is a release, and it’s the best kind of release, because it heals. Trust me on this: heavy metal helped to heal me.

So what has made this music so important to me for over four decades? And who have been the most important bands to me? There’s Iron Maiden with their galloping bass, melodic guitars and lyrics that tell stories about everything from religion to war to literature. Dio sang about fantasy-based themes, dragons, the stars and the sky, and about opening your mind. Metallica is all about speed, and playing as fast as they can. For me, Judas Priest is all about power. The roots of Judas Priest go back to the late 1960’s, in Birmingham, England, also the birthplace of the godfathers of heavy metal, Black Sabbath. They would revolutionize the sound of heavy metal and hard rock by adding a second guitarist, one of the first to do so. Having a second player would “fill out the sound”, as guitarist KK Downing would say years later, and pave the way for other bands to also play with two guitarists. Judas Priest was also the first metal band to adopt the leather and studs look onstage and everywhere else, essentially giving the genre a signature look. The first time I heard them was when I saw the video for “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming” on MTV, in the fall of 1982, from an album they had just released that summer, Screaming for Vengeance. Two years prior, they had put out what many consider the benchmark album for heavy metal, the classic British Steel. After missing the mark somewhat in 1981 with Point of Entry, they needed to give the fans a worthy follow up to British Steel, and that would be Screaming for Vengeance. Hearing “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming” for the first time, and seeing that video was a moment I won’t forget. The music sounded like a freight train, but this train was not going to pass you by; it was going to hit you. There was a “bottom” to the music, and that bottom had another bottom to it. There was no escaping the volume, and the way the guitars and the bass just kept chugging towards you. And above it all, somehow, was this growling, yet soaring operatic voice, keeping up with all that volume. The video takes place at a “noise pollution test zone”, per the sign in the opening shot. The band plays, gets increasingly louder, until this poor guy wearing a bowler hat and carrying a briefcase has his head blown up at the end. Similar to when I saw AC/DC and Angus Young bobbing his head up and down, my first reaction was, “Wow, what IS this??” And I have to be honest, it scared me a little; the volume, the heaviness, and the imagery of these five guys clad in leather and chains, looking like they would definitely kick someone’s ass if given the chance. Despite that, I wanted more, so just like I did with Duran Duran and Rio, I ordered Screaming for Vengeance from the Columbia House Tape Club, and soon it was in my stereo. The album opens with the short instrumental, “The Hellion”, which leads right into “Electric Eye”. It’s the perfect opening song, and there was all that power and volume, hitting me like it did when I first saw the video only a couple of weeks before. And there was Rob Halford’s voice; it had fury and aggression, and somehow, he was able to project that falsetto above the guitars, bass and drums. It shook my insides and made my eardrums throb while I listened through those headphones my dad had given me. I listened to that tape for several weeks…but for whatever reason, I found myself listening to “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming” over and over, instead of just listening to the entire cassette. I still can’t remember why I did that. I realize now I was missing out, especially on the amazing opening track, “Electric Eye”. But I did become a fan and bought and listened to Judas Priest throughout the 80s. They were replaced by the grunge bands of the 90s; singer Rob Halford left, and I would see his solo band, Fight, open for Iron Maiden in 2000 at Madison Square Garden. Then in 2005, I saw a reunited Judas Priest at Jones Beach Theater, and they opened the show with “The Hellion”, and then “Electric Eye”, and all that power I remembered suddenly returned. I dug out my old Judas Priest CD’s and downloaded their newer albums and started listening again. Then life took over, but they would return in the biggest way possible, and “Electric Eye” would help get me through one of my life’s most challenging chapters.

The phone call that changed my life came on President’s Day in 2019. My wife and I both had the day off so we decided to fire up our Lord of the Rings blu-rays and spend the day on the sofa. I had had an elevated PSA, or prostate specific antigen level in my blood for many years. This is the level in a man’s blood that could be an indicator for prostate cancer. It doesn’t mean you have it, it just means that if it’s elevated, that follow up is warranted. It’s used as a gauge, a red flag, and not as a tool for a final diagnosis. My doctor on Long Island was begging me to get a biopsy, but I kept refusing, reasoning that I was not in a high-risk group and otherwise healthy. Cancer? There was no way I had cancer. I didn’t smoke, I exercised, watched my weight, and I was not in a high-risk ethnic group; prostate cancer is highest in Black and Asian men. Plus…wasn’t prostate cancer an old man’s disease? Wouldn’t I be waking up every 10 minutes in the middle of the night if there was something wrong with my prostate? I would learn later that most of the things I just mentioned, meant absolutely nothing when it came to prostate cancer. A few months earlier, in December of 2018, my PSA had spiked, to 4.5; the benchmark for a guy my age was about 2.5. I finally relented and found a new urologist in Connecticut so I could follow up, and to put my mind at ease that this was just an anomaly, and nothing serious. This phone call, however, would not put my mind at ease. This new specialist had sent me for a pelvic MRI, and the results were not what I was expecting. He let me know that the images came back with “areas that required further investigation to determine malignancy.” As the color drained from my face, I asked him to please tell me what that meant. He calmly said, “I know your head is probably exploding, but I’m not telling you that you have cancer. The images suggest that you have spots on your prostate in areas that may be consistent with cancer. We don’t know yet.” He recommended I take a deep breath, and since he was not a surgeon, he said he could refer me to one, or better yet, I should head down to Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in NYC to get another opinion. And most important, “Stay off the internet,” he said, “all of the information will just confuse you, and we don’t have a diagnosis yet, so don’t Google anything.” So, I took his advice about Sloan Kettering (big mistake; a 6 hour wait to see a doctor who was clearly overworked and seemed disinterested in helping me) but ignored his advice about not Googling prostate cancer (bigger mistake; all the info and grey areas made my head spin.) I realized I needed to regroup, and step back from this, and find an oncology surgeon. Remembering a referral I had been given a few years before, I searched through my email and found what I was looking for. I made an appointment with an oncology surgeon in White Plains, New York; another phone call that would change my life. I met Dr Seth Lerner in April at his office near White Plains hospital. The moment I met him I knew I had made the right decision. He was compact, impeccably dressed and moved and spoke slowly, and with tremendous confidence. And he was straightforward with me, which I desperately needed. We basically started over: new blood work, new MRI with contrast this time, and then a biopsy. At each step, he always reminded me, “We don’t know until we know.” I held out hope that the biopsy would be negative, right up to the moment Dr Lerner called me on a Friday evening in June, and told me that, unfortunately, the biopsy had come back positive for cancer. The first thing he said to me was, “You are not going to die from this, I promise.” We arranged to meet in his office so he could go over treatment options with Christine and I. He made me promise to stay positive, and he promised me again I would get through it. I ended the call, and the realization hit me that I was the one who had the cancer, not a character in a movie or on TV, and not a friend of a friend, or someone on Facebook…it was me.

It became more real as I told my family and close friends. At first, I was actually more concerned about them and their reactions than I was about myself; that would soon fade. Christine and I went over treatment options with Dr Lerner that week. It became clearer as the conversation progressed that surgery was the best option for my Stage 1 cancer, despite Dr Lerner reminding me that “Surgery is injury…I’m going to injure you, but I will get all the cancer.” Surgery would mean a long recovery, and somewhat of a lifestyle adjustment for a while, but if the cancer was contained to my prostate, there was an excellent chance I would attain instant remission. There was also radiation (“…it doesn’t always work, and the radiation stays in your body forever.”) and literally doing nothing and monitoring the cancer every year (“…remember though, the cancer wants to grow, and it will.”) In my mind, I said no thank you to the latter two options, but there were two people left I had to tell before I made a decision. So, the day before Father’s Day in 2019, I sat with my sons, then 18 and 14, and told them I had Stage 1 prostate cancer. My oldest, Dan, said, “Holy shit,” and Dylan, my younger son, said, “Are you serious?” I assured them I would be OK, that I had an amazing doctor, and that I was going to beat it. When I laid out the treatment options, Dan said, “So there’s an option that would probably cure you?” “Yes, “ I answered. “Then that’s what you do,” he replied. And Dylan nodded. Christine already thought this was the best option. She understood how anxious I was, and although the recovery would be challenging, this option had the best odds of just beating the cancer outright. So, it was settled; I called Dr Lerner on Monday and told him I was opting for surgery, and he said, “I think you are making a very wise decision.” We scheduled the operation for the day after Columbus Day, October 22nd. I had a very typical but enjoyable summer; the beach, wineries, family BBQ’s and seeing friends. I exercised and rode my bicycle a lot, including a 112-mile trek from Babylon to Montauk and I watched what I ate; I wanted to be in the best possible shape for the operation. We went to Aruba for our anniversary in late September, the trip where my friend Nick and I discussed picking our 50 favorite songs when we turned 50. When we returned, I focused on work and on getting ready for the operation. As it drew nearer, I thought about backing out, and just keeping an eye on the cancer for a few years. I was getting nervous; as much as I wanted the cancer out of me, I was worried about the recovery that lay ahead and if they would truly get it all. What was the point of the surgery if it had progressed even a small amount, and I needed radiation anyway? My mind raced as the day approached, but the more Christine and I talked about it, I knew I couldn’t live with the cancer, and have tests every year. Plus, I couldn’t allow Christine, my sons, and my family to worry every time I had those tests. In the end, I knew I would go through with the surgery. At 6AM on October 22nd, we drove to White Plains Hospital; I had not eaten in 24 hours, and I would not eat anything solid for almost four full days. I surrendered my clothes and exchanged them for a hospital gown. The surgical intake nurse prepped me, and the anesthesiologist installed two intravenous ports in my hand to administer whatever drugs and sedatives I would be on for the next few days. Dr Lerner stopped by and asked me if I was ready, and told me I was going to do fine. By the time Christine kissed me on the cheek to say goodbye and told me I was going to crush this, the anesthesiologist, whose name was also Christine, had already pushed a dose of Valium into one of the IV ports and I was beginning to feel relaxed. When she wheeled me into the OR, I looked around and she told me to just keep breathing normally. The OR was big, just like you see on hospital shows on TV. I tried to absorb my surroundings, and I thought there would be some kind of countdown as the anesthesia was administered. But there would be no countdown; I looked at the ceiling and that’s the last thing I remembered until I woke up in a recovery room 6 ½ hours later.

I was released from the hospital on Thursday. When people ask me what I remember most about being in the hospital, I tell them I remember being so hungry I didn’t care anymore how hungry I was. I also remember waking up with a catheter in me (fun!), having moderate pain, a huge bandage across my abdomen, and my wife sneaking me Dunkin Donuts coffee the two mornings I woke up there. But what I replay over and over again is Dr Lerner coming in to see me that first evening, and telling Christine and I that the cancer was contained and that I “had excellent margins”, and that “no further treatment would be needed.” In other words, he was 99.9% sure they had got it all, and now I could just focus on recovery. I was grateful, of course, but I didn’t cry tears of joy or do anything dramatic. In fact, I think I asked him if I could order a cheeseburger and a beer; he laughed and said my chicken broth and Jell-O would arrive shortly. But seriously, I was relieved. I would be uncomfortable for several weeks, but it would be worth it. I took two weeks off from work and worked from home another two weeks. There was a steady stream of visitors, cards, gift baskets, text messages and phone calls. By the middle of November, I was going into the office again, and starting to feel like myself, but I was going crazy sitting on the couch watching TV and begged my doctor to let me go back to the gym. He said OK, but no lifting, no rowing machine or core exercises; I could walk on the treadmill, slowly. Ugh. Well, it was a start. I would need some motivation, so I sat down with my phone and iTunes, and made a playlist of the loudest, most aggressive music I could find. I threw everything on there: Ozzy, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Megadeth, Dio, Pantera; I even put some glam metal on there: Skid Row and Motley Crue, and then added Rage Against the Machine, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and Guns N Roses for good measure. I wanted a good opener, something to grab my attention, to make me forget I would walking slowly for 30 minutes, and there it was, so obvious: “Electric Eye” by Judas Priest. After I added a few more Priest songs and a few tracks by a Danish metal band I had discovered the year before, Volbeat, I was ready to go. I walked on the treadmill slowly for two weeks; by December I was back on the elliptical and rower, and by Christmas I was lifting light weights. And I listened to that playlist every time, always listening to “Electric Eye” first. In fact, I listened to that playlist wherever I went. If I was in the car by myself, I turned it up as loud as I could and yelled the lyrics to every song. I know I must have looked like a crazy middle-aged guy singing at the top of my lungs like that, but I didn’t care. It was cathartic, and the release I got felt awesome. Part of me was angry that I had to go through all this, and that I got cancer in the first place. I was angry about putting my life on hold, about not being able to exercise the way I was used to or ride my bicycle. And I was angry I had to learn how to “hold it in” again. I felt like I had lost part of myself; even though the part I lost was diseased, I inexplicably wanted it back. Listening to this loud music released a lot of that anger, but I knew I still had a long way to complete recovery. Sometimes I would play “Electric Eye” on repeat, letting the speed and power of that one song just take over. Then in January 2020, I went for my first blood test since the surgery. My PSA would have to be less than .10, or it meant some of the cancer cells had spread. I was fairly confident I was in the clear, but I still waited on eggshells for 48 hours until Dr Lerner called me with the results. “Your PSA is zero. I would say you are in remission but we’ll monitor this every three months for the next year. But you can celebrate.” I ended the call, but with different thoughts than six months prior…my only thought now was I’m a survivor.

In October 2021, Rob Halford revealed that he had been treated for prostate cancer the year before, in the spring of 2020. He had also opted for surgery to remove his prostate, but his cancer had spread, and he underwent radiation treatments, 39 to be exact, according to him. I must have read every article I could about him and his cancer battle. I don’t know why I felt so connected to his story, but I thought about it for weeks afterwards. Maybe because he went through it shortly after I did, or because Judas Priest and their music has been such huge part of my life, and a big part of my cancer journey. Or maybe it was because this larger-than-life person, with so much talent who had already overcome so much in his life, the “Metal God” himself, was truly a mortal like the fans who loved him, and now, a cancer survivor. I wanted to call him, invite him for a beer and share my story with him, and hear his story. I wanted him to know the role he and his band, and “Electric Eye” played in my cancer journey and my healing. But unfortunately, I am not friends with Rob Halford. So, I did the only thing I could think of to pay tribute: I played “Electric Eye” and the rest of my Judas Priest catalog as loud as possible. As I previously wrote about “Electric Eye”, it all came full circle for me when I heard that news about Rob Halford. His music, and all that metal I listened to helped me get through such a challenging time, and I am just as grateful for it as I am for my wife, family, friends and my doctor. All of it has made me feel powerful again.

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Next time…some kid I barely know slams a cassette in my car stereo and I discover hip-hop.

P.S.

 As of today, I have been cancer-free for 39 months. Usually, once you hit 5 years of remission, most doctors will say the cancer will not return, but realistically I will have to monitor my PSA for the rest of my life, and that’s OK. I feel the worst is behind me, and that if I needed further treatment down the road I would just deal with it. Sometimes I have to remind myself I had prostate cancer. In fact, writing about it now and remembering that time in 2019 is the most I’ve thought about it in a very long time. But one thing I do think about frequently is how extremely lucky I was that my cancer was caught early, that I found a brilliant surgeon, and that I did not need further treatment. I know there are millions of people out there who go through months and months of treatments, have surgeries, and put their lives on hold, only to have cancer return. I also realize there are people who lose their battle, and families that lose loved ones every day to cancer. Fortunately, we know more about cancer now than we ever did, and there are early detection tools out there, and better treatment options…so, guys, if you’re reading this, please have your PSA checked every year. It’s just a blood test. If it’s high, work with your doctor to figure out if that’s just how your PSA rolls, or if you need further tests. It doesn’t mean you have prostate cancer…but if you do have it, chances are it’s treatable, and curable. But you won’t know until you get checked! And ladies, if your guy doesn’t want to go see the doctor, drag him there and take him for a beer afterwards. 1 in 8 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in their lifetime, so stay ahead of it, and get checked every year.

Judas Priest have released 18 studio albums, including their latest, Firepower in 2018. Guitarist Glenn Tipton retired from full time touring due to Parkinson’s disease in 2018, and was replaced by Andy Sneap; Tipton still contributes to recording and will sometimes play onstage during encores. Guitarist Richie Faulkner had already replaced KK Downing in 2011, and Scott Travis replaced Dave Holland on drums in 1990. In 2021, Judas Priest went on their 50 Heavy Metal Years Tour, which was pushed back because of the COVID-19 pandemic. In 2022, Judas Priest was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; KK Downing, Glenn Tipton, and former drummer Les Binks joined the current lineup onstage to play a three-song set. And Rob Halford’s powerful voice has matured somewhat; he still hits the high notes, but sometimes sings in a baritone growl. The songs still sound great, at least to me. Halford added an entire chapter about his battle with prostate cancer when his memoir Confess was released in paperback, and he speaks openly every opportunity he gets to encourage men to get checked. He narrates his own memoir Confess; you can get it on Audible. He recently appeared on the Zero Prostate Cancer Uncensored, a podcast hosted by Twisted Sister guitarist Jay French, who is also a survivor, and talked about his entire experience. I couldn’t post the whole episode here, but here’s the YouTube channel so you can check it out: https://www.youtube.com/@zeroprostatecancer

I am still and will always be a fan of metal music. Most of the bands I listened to when I was younger would be considered old, by anyone’s standards, but they still sound as good as they did when I was 16. If Judas Priest, Iron Maiden or Metallica announced a show at Madison Square Garden right now, they would sell it out, probably in hours or less. These bands now have multiple generations of fans; the power of this music speaks for itself. It’s not for everyone, but if you’re in the car by yourself, why not give it a shot…roll up the windows and yell those lyrics as loud as you can!

After my whole cancer experience, I decided that if I could ask God one question, I would ask him what was the exact moment the DNA in my prostate decided to go haywire and turn into cancer cells. Then I heard Rob Halford tell the story of when he asked his doctor “Why did this happen?” His doctor simply said, “Nature.” That’s good enough for me. I think I’ll spend that one question to God on something else.

See you next time…

JS

4/3/2023