obituary mike howe

MIKE HOWE

1965-2021

I’M feeling like the luckiest guy on the planet!” ¶ It’s late 2016. I’ve reached out to Mike Howe hoping to lock down a chat about the two decades he spent plying his trade as a high-end carpenter/raising a family after the Metal Church riff altar first went silent in 1996, as well as his unlikely and rousing return to fronting the band on XI—a record that might not have quite reached the same epic heights as straight up Howe-era classics Blessing in Disguise (1989) and The Human Factor (1991), but came pretty goddamn close. And to say the vocalist’s enthusiasm is commensurate to the energy of the album would be something of an understatement. ¶ “I’ve found the fountain of youth,” he tells Decibel. “It’s called heavy metal!” ¶ It is difficult to square this joie de vivre with the news that Howe committed suicide last week. (The full interview never happens, by the way: It is only too easy with someone as effervescent and good-natured as Howe to assume you have all the time in the world.) His death is a good reminder that the kindness and generosity one gifts others is not always mirrored in the kindness and generosity they offer themselves.

But, much as Howe’s ability to fuse grit and snarl to technique allowed his voice to transcend the work of most of his peers—he “had the unenviable task of filling the large shoes of the band’s original vocalist David Wayne,” legendary former Roadrunner Records A&R head Monte Conner aptly wrote on Facebook, “but he came through in a huge way, and his voice helped usher in a fresh new era and sound for the band (less thrash and more bigpicture metal, comparable to Metallica meets Queensrÿche)”—the devotion to empathy and equity that shined through in the words he sang also was not relegated to lyrical couplets. When asked by Little Punk People’s Elliott Fullam what goal he’d like to achieve in life outside of music, Howe replied, “Just being a good person…a person that spreads humanity. Being civil to each other and setting an example like that out in this world.” As the outpouring of memories and love from metal celebrities and ordinary people alike in the wake of Howe’s death clearly attest, mission accomplished.

Six years on, Howe’s return to the Metal Church congregation for XI—and, subsequently, another great studio album in Damned If You Do (2018), as well as the expansive compilation From the Vault (2020)—will inevitably be imbued with a more elegiac vibe. We should remember, however, that even though Howe felt like the luckiest guy on the planet, the denizens of Greater Metaldom should be counting our not-sodisguised blessings as well. Howe gave us one hell of a farewell. Remember, he’s still here when you need him. “Still, I’m pushing onward,” Howe roars on “Badlands,” perhaps Metal Church’s best-known song. “Alone I can’t deny: My presence fills the desert, my spirit never dies.” —SHAWN MACOMBER