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Christopher Owens  ⚑ “And suddenly it all went black. And that time was gone forever.” - Denis Johnson.


Whenever death comes for those we love, it’s difficult for us to articulate the emptiness and silence that we feel in those initial moments. We survey the surroundings for something to latch onto as an initial attempt to dissipate the feeling of loss, and the words of condolences offered by well-meaning friends and family seem trite.

Memories flash before us, we heartily laugh at the good times and then realise that the person who we shared those moments with is gone forever.


On Sunday 26th November, I saw the following post on Facebook from Luca Signorelli:

This morning I got a phone call, telling me that Kevin “Geordie” Walker had died few hours ago in Prague, following a massive stroke last Friday.

For millions of people around the world, Geordie was the guitarist and main songwriter of Killing Joke, a rock band of legendary dimensions. Metallica’s cover of 1980 KJ song “The Wait” introduced the band and Geordie’s guitar work to at least two new generations, but I hate to think of Geordie going down in history because of that. Jimmy Page (That Jimmy Page, of Led Zeppelin’s fame) considered Geordie one of the finest guitar players ever. But I don’t want to celebrate Geordie because he was a “guitarists’ guitarist”. Killing Joke, the band he spearheaded through four decades of successes and crises, it’s still one of the most influential ever. But others will certainly talk about Geordie’s musical record better than I could ever do.

None of this really matters to me now. What I want to remember is that Geordie was, for 40 years, the closest friend and most important person I’ve ever had outside my family.

I was devastated.

I have written a few pieces on this site about Killing Joke and, having seen them live 29 times, I think it should be obvious that they mean a lot to me. Not only has the music and attitude shaped my cultural tastes and worldview, but it has also inspired my own creative output (if you look at the acknowledgements for A Vortex of Securocrats, I thank each member of the band individually). So, when someone like this dies, it is much more than a death in the family. It is the end of something beautiful.

Killing Joke could take many forms: rabble rousing punks, dealers in groovy dub/disco, harsh staccato driven atmospheric landscapes, soaring spiritual reflections and in your face industrial rock that defined ‘metallic’. Throughout this eclecticism, the one constant was Geordie’s guitar. Producing a sound that was snarling, wide ranging, direct but also melodic, it was a sound that influenced not only alternative rock but the various strands of punk, industrial and metal. So many tried to replicate his sound but could never do it.

As an example, take the opening song on 1982’s Revelations.



That sinister intro, tinged with the upbeat tail, giving way to a slow, grinding riff while the ponderous rhythm adds to the mood.

Another example would be Are You Receiving, the first song written by Killing Joke.



Although a tad more conventional, note how the guitar seems to combine disco funkiness, punk intensity and the power of metal due to the single note being jammed.

Heavy and metallic without being metal. Angular and atonal without being post-punk. Choppy and abrupt without being punk. Geordie was the master of his own domain. Especially in the live arena where he would play these monstrous, casually apocalyptic sounding riffs with ease and cool.


Born in December 1958 in Chester-le-Street (County Durham), Kevin Walker and his family moved to Bletchley (now part of Milton Keynes). With his strong northern accent, he was quickly dubbed ‘Geordie’ by his classmates and the name stuck.

Asked in 1994 about his initial taste in music, Geordie replied:

Well, I never had a stereo until I was 15, but I got into music at a very early age. I was about five when I heard ‘Bits and Pieces’ by the Dave Clark Five. By about the age of eight I was knocking around with this kid and his older brother who had all the 'Magical Mystery Tour' stuff and during school holidays I was putting those on with him. Stuff like ‘Scarecrow’ by Pink Floyd with my head in the gramophone at 16rpm, I think that the music that was up to about 73, 74 was like wild stuff! It was only when I got a stereo where I was buying Alice Cooper, Jeff Beck and funnily enough Rod Stewart and the Faces. I tell you, one album I want to get hold of again was John McLaughlin's 'Devotion'- not 'Love Devotion' with Santana. The album I mean had a mental cover: it was like McLaughlin with a Spanish guitar, but the picture had been done with bendy mirrors. There was stuff like ‘Don't Let the Dragon Eat Your Mother’ on it which was just like this acid stuff with mentally fast guitar with wild chords; I had that and it was a really big one for me!

As to how he ended up in Killing Joke:

I applied to college in London to do architecture, but what I really wanted to do was get into a band. I answered an advert in the Melody Maker that struck a chord with me: ‘Want to be part of the Killing Joke? Total publicity, total exploitation’. It looked nice and hardcore. I turned up and Jaz Coleman asked me if I'd ever been in any bands before. I said, ‘No, I've played in my bedroom.’ Actually, he's only just told me this - he tried to palm me off to another band for two months! I turned up at his mum's flat in Battersea and he's putting on Peter Perrett and The Only Ones and it was fucking shit. "What do you like?" "The Radio Stars." "That's shit!" Eventually we agreed we both liked fishing: country boys! And once we'd got the music out of the way, we got on like a house on fire...

And so, history was made. From October 1979 to March 2023, the band put out 15 studio albums, three dub compilations and a multitude of singles that stand as some of the finest music ever recorded.

Killing Joke were a tempestuous unit at the best of times with arguments, fist fights and walk outs. So it’s no surprise that Geordie could be an unfriendly sort to those he detected as not being on his wavelength (one story has it that a soundman pissed him off so much he left a hot iron on the mixing board) but there are multiple stories of his generosity and time for Gatherers outside venues, posing for photographs and chatting with guitar nerds.

In the 80’s, him and singer Jaz Coleman were a double act for interviews. Deriding everyone (but themselves) as being insignificant, stating that Killing Joke were the only artistically successful act ever and then arguing amongst themselves, they made for an entertaining pair. As time went on, Geordie took a step back from being interviewed, so it was always a joy to see him talking about getting his first guitar or his thoughts on certain Killing Joke albums that didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to.

In this moment, the one song I keep playing is ‘Gratitude’. Closing the 2006 album ‘Hosannas from the Basement of Hell’, it’s a song that I have a complicated history with due to it being intertwined with bad memories of the band being a shambles from this time and the feeling that I was living in the last days, seemingly confirmed with the death of bassist Paul Raven a year later. Until the original lineup reformed in 2008, I thought this song was going to be the last thing I ever heard from the band and as a result, I wasn't able to listen to it without being overcome with sadness.

Thankfully, this wasn't the case and we got a further 17 years out of them. Now, the song hits in a different way. And Geordie sounds utterly mighty on it.

“Let me tell you about the hearts of my people
Let me tell you of the meanings of our tribe
A dream unspoken, a promised kept the secret comes
Alive

For all the years I've watched your back and you've watched mine
We always knew the clouds would part and a golden dawn will
Shine

And when you find yourself along the untrodden path
Remember me with a smile, and drink, a gesture or a laugh
Gratitude

You look at me but I've been looking at you
We only were a mirror to show what you could do
O innovator, o enlightened scholar play and write
Rewrite the old books, renaissance perform new rites of light

And when you find yourself along the untrodden path
Remember me with a smile, and drink, a gesture or a laugh
Gratitude

The wise will redefine paradise
Farmer and the visionary, a village - simple lives
Adapting to strange seasons in certain remote regions
Where no-one has exemption from total redemption

And when you find yourself along the untrodden path
Remember me with a smile, a drink, a gesture or a laugh
And a toast for the man who loves every hour of every day
And a feast for the friends and faces met along way
Gratitude”


Lest we forget.




⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.

Geordie Walker

Christopher Owens  ⚑ “And suddenly it all went black. And that time was gone forever.” - Denis Johnson.


Whenever death comes for those we love, it’s difficult for us to articulate the emptiness and silence that we feel in those initial moments. We survey the surroundings for something to latch onto as an initial attempt to dissipate the feeling of loss, and the words of condolences offered by well-meaning friends and family seem trite.

Memories flash before us, we heartily laugh at the good times and then realise that the person who we shared those moments with is gone forever.


On Sunday 26th November, I saw the following post on Facebook from Luca Signorelli:

This morning I got a phone call, telling me that Kevin “Geordie” Walker had died few hours ago in Prague, following a massive stroke last Friday.

For millions of people around the world, Geordie was the guitarist and main songwriter of Killing Joke, a rock band of legendary dimensions. Metallica’s cover of 1980 KJ song “The Wait” introduced the band and Geordie’s guitar work to at least two new generations, but I hate to think of Geordie going down in history because of that. Jimmy Page (That Jimmy Page, of Led Zeppelin’s fame) considered Geordie one of the finest guitar players ever. But I don’t want to celebrate Geordie because he was a “guitarists’ guitarist”. Killing Joke, the band he spearheaded through four decades of successes and crises, it’s still one of the most influential ever. But others will certainly talk about Geordie’s musical record better than I could ever do.

None of this really matters to me now. What I want to remember is that Geordie was, for 40 years, the closest friend and most important person I’ve ever had outside my family.

I was devastated.

I have written a few pieces on this site about Killing Joke and, having seen them live 29 times, I think it should be obvious that they mean a lot to me. Not only has the music and attitude shaped my cultural tastes and worldview, but it has also inspired my own creative output (if you look at the acknowledgements for A Vortex of Securocrats, I thank each member of the band individually). So, when someone like this dies, it is much more than a death in the family. It is the end of something beautiful.

Killing Joke could take many forms: rabble rousing punks, dealers in groovy dub/disco, harsh staccato driven atmospheric landscapes, soaring spiritual reflections and in your face industrial rock that defined ‘metallic’. Throughout this eclecticism, the one constant was Geordie’s guitar. Producing a sound that was snarling, wide ranging, direct but also melodic, it was a sound that influenced not only alternative rock but the various strands of punk, industrial and metal. So many tried to replicate his sound but could never do it.

As an example, take the opening song on 1982’s Revelations.



That sinister intro, tinged with the upbeat tail, giving way to a slow, grinding riff while the ponderous rhythm adds to the mood.

Another example would be Are You Receiving, the first song written by Killing Joke.



Although a tad more conventional, note how the guitar seems to combine disco funkiness, punk intensity and the power of metal due to the single note being jammed.

Heavy and metallic without being metal. Angular and atonal without being post-punk. Choppy and abrupt without being punk. Geordie was the master of his own domain. Especially in the live arena where he would play these monstrous, casually apocalyptic sounding riffs with ease and cool.


Born in December 1958 in Chester-le-Street (County Durham), Kevin Walker and his family moved to Bletchley (now part of Milton Keynes). With his strong northern accent, he was quickly dubbed ‘Geordie’ by his classmates and the name stuck.

Asked in 1994 about his initial taste in music, Geordie replied:

Well, I never had a stereo until I was 15, but I got into music at a very early age. I was about five when I heard ‘Bits and Pieces’ by the Dave Clark Five. By about the age of eight I was knocking around with this kid and his older brother who had all the 'Magical Mystery Tour' stuff and during school holidays I was putting those on with him. Stuff like ‘Scarecrow’ by Pink Floyd with my head in the gramophone at 16rpm, I think that the music that was up to about 73, 74 was like wild stuff! It was only when I got a stereo where I was buying Alice Cooper, Jeff Beck and funnily enough Rod Stewart and the Faces. I tell you, one album I want to get hold of again was John McLaughlin's 'Devotion'- not 'Love Devotion' with Santana. The album I mean had a mental cover: it was like McLaughlin with a Spanish guitar, but the picture had been done with bendy mirrors. There was stuff like ‘Don't Let the Dragon Eat Your Mother’ on it which was just like this acid stuff with mentally fast guitar with wild chords; I had that and it was a really big one for me!

As to how he ended up in Killing Joke:

I applied to college in London to do architecture, but what I really wanted to do was get into a band. I answered an advert in the Melody Maker that struck a chord with me: ‘Want to be part of the Killing Joke? Total publicity, total exploitation’. It looked nice and hardcore. I turned up and Jaz Coleman asked me if I'd ever been in any bands before. I said, ‘No, I've played in my bedroom.’ Actually, he's only just told me this - he tried to palm me off to another band for two months! I turned up at his mum's flat in Battersea and he's putting on Peter Perrett and The Only Ones and it was fucking shit. "What do you like?" "The Radio Stars." "That's shit!" Eventually we agreed we both liked fishing: country boys! And once we'd got the music out of the way, we got on like a house on fire...

And so, history was made. From October 1979 to March 2023, the band put out 15 studio albums, three dub compilations and a multitude of singles that stand as some of the finest music ever recorded.

Killing Joke were a tempestuous unit at the best of times with arguments, fist fights and walk outs. So it’s no surprise that Geordie could be an unfriendly sort to those he detected as not being on his wavelength (one story has it that a soundman pissed him off so much he left a hot iron on the mixing board) but there are multiple stories of his generosity and time for Gatherers outside venues, posing for photographs and chatting with guitar nerds.

In the 80’s, him and singer Jaz Coleman were a double act for interviews. Deriding everyone (but themselves) as being insignificant, stating that Killing Joke were the only artistically successful act ever and then arguing amongst themselves, they made for an entertaining pair. As time went on, Geordie took a step back from being interviewed, so it was always a joy to see him talking about getting his first guitar or his thoughts on certain Killing Joke albums that didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to.

In this moment, the one song I keep playing is ‘Gratitude’. Closing the 2006 album ‘Hosannas from the Basement of Hell’, it’s a song that I have a complicated history with due to it being intertwined with bad memories of the band being a shambles from this time and the feeling that I was living in the last days, seemingly confirmed with the death of bassist Paul Raven a year later. Until the original lineup reformed in 2008, I thought this song was going to be the last thing I ever heard from the band and as a result, I wasn't able to listen to it without being overcome with sadness.

Thankfully, this wasn't the case and we got a further 17 years out of them. Now, the song hits in a different way. And Geordie sounds utterly mighty on it.

“Let me tell you about the hearts of my people
Let me tell you of the meanings of our tribe
A dream unspoken, a promised kept the secret comes
Alive

For all the years I've watched your back and you've watched mine
We always knew the clouds would part and a golden dawn will
Shine

And when you find yourself along the untrodden path
Remember me with a smile, and drink, a gesture or a laugh
Gratitude

You look at me but I've been looking at you
We only were a mirror to show what you could do
O innovator, o enlightened scholar play and write
Rewrite the old books, renaissance perform new rites of light

And when you find yourself along the untrodden path
Remember me with a smile, and drink, a gesture or a laugh
Gratitude

The wise will redefine paradise
Farmer and the visionary, a village - simple lives
Adapting to strange seasons in certain remote regions
Where no-one has exemption from total redemption

And when you find yourself along the untrodden path
Remember me with a smile, a drink, a gesture or a laugh
And a toast for the man who loves every hour of every day
And a feast for the friends and faces met along way
Gratitude”


Lest we forget.




⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.
Christopher Owens Obituary

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