Hit Parader
July 1987 — Issue #289

Viper Fury's Barnel Hasn't Spoken in 11 Days and the Band Is "Honestly Fine With It"

The enigmatic guitarist's legendary silence reaches new heights as the "Venom & Velvet" sessions grind on

Barnel, lead guitarist of Viper Fury, has not spoken a single word in eleven days. Not to his bandmates. Not to producers. Not to the studio engineer who accidentally unplugged his amp on day three, an offense that in most bands would result in physical violence but in Barnel's case produced only a stare so withering the engineer reportedly called his mother afterward.

"It's actually kind of peaceful," admitted frontman Owen, reclining on a leather couch in Sunset Sound's Studio 2, where the band is recording their sophomore album, Venom & Velvet. "He just shows up, plugs in, plays these incredible solos, and then sits in the corner reading — I think it's Sartre? Could be a restaurant menu. The book has no cover. Nobody's brave enough to ask."

Producer David Nicolosi, who has worked with the band since their debut, described the situation as "honestly ideal." "Most guitarists won't shut up," Nicolosi said, adjusting levels on the mixing board. "They want to tell you about their tone, their pedal chain, their spiritual journey. Barnel just plays. It's the most productive silence I've ever experienced. I wish more musicians would try not talking. The industry would improve overnight."

Bassist Sheldon, himself not known for excessive verbalization, was asked if he and Barnel had developed some kind of nonverbal communication system. He thought about it for approximately ninety seconds, shrugged, and walked away. Drummer Jemah, by contrast, has been compensating for the silence by talking roughly three hundred percent more than usual. "I've been doing both sides of conversations," Jemah said, vibrating with what appeared to be her fourth espresso. "I'll say something to Barnel, then I'll answer for him. He hasn't corrected me yet, so I assume I'm nailing it."

When we attempted to interview Barnel directly, he looked at us for a long time — not unkindly, but with the energy of a man watching a nature documentary about an animal he finds only mildly interesting. He then played an eight-minute guitar solo that reduced two members of our editorial staff to tears. We're choosing to interpret that as a statement.


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