"Dream On": 7 Facts About Aerosmith's Classic Song | GRAMMY Hall Of Fame | GRAMMY.com (2025)

"Sing with me, sing for the years/Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears/Sing with me, just for today/Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away."

Penned by frontman Steven Tyler, the ballad was the second single released from their 1973 eponymous debut album. Long since a staple at classic rock radio — and surely a must for any power ballad streaming playlist — "Dream On" scored its most recent accolade in the form of induction into the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame as part of the class of 2018.

What makes this classic tick? Here are seven interesting facts you should know about the iconic Aerosmith power ballad.

1. The Music Was Inspired By Classical Composers

Bach, Chopin … Tyler? Interestingly, the Aerosmith frontman's earliest music memories are in the form of being tucked underneath his dad's Steinway grand piano as early as the tender age of 3. Tyler's father would play music from renowned classical composers, which made quite an impression and later informed the composition of "Dream On." "I grew up, under the piano, listening and living in between the notes of Chopin, Bach, Beethoven, Debussy," Tyler recounted in his 2011 autobiography, Does The Noise In My Head Bother You? "That's where I got that 'Dream On' chordage."

2. The Song Came Together In A House In Foxboro

In 1972 Aerosmith — Tyler, guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford, bassist Tom Hamilton, and drummer Joey Kramer — holed up at a house in Foxboro, Mass., to work on songs for their debut LP. Before hitting the studio, the quintet put in a week at the house and that's where their classic ballad started to take musical shape. "I'd wake in the morning and say, 'Let's go and see if we can play this song.' I'd play a few bars of 'Dream On,'" said Tyler in his autobiography. "The other guys followed my piano. I said, 'Joe, you play what my right hand's doing. Brad you play the left hand.' When we did that — hello, synchronicity!'"

3. The Lyrics Bottle Aerosmith's Early Determination

While the message behind the song is certainly subject to the listener's interpretation, Tyler has confessed the lyrics represent the band's unobstructed will to make it big. "People ask me all the time what 'Dream On' is all about," said Tyler in Walk This Way, Aerosmith's authorized band biography. "It's simple. It's about dreaming until your dreams come true. It's about the hunger and desire and ambition to be somebody that Aerosmith felt in those days. You can hear it in the grooves because it's there."

4. "Dream On" Is The Debut Of The "Real" Steven Tyler

When rock fans think of Tyler, the singer's trademark raspy vocal style comes immediately to mind. Though upon careful listen to Aerosmith's debut album, the singer's vocals are notably neutered and sound different stylistically. (A/B 1973's "Mama Kin" and 1975's "Walk This Way," and compare and contrast.) But "Dream On" was the lone cut that featured a hint of his patented gruff voice — noticeable during the song's big climax — a choice Tyler says was the result of not being sure of himself. "I changed my voice when we did the final vocals," said Tyler in Walk This Way. "I was insecure, but nobody told me not to do it. I thought I didn't sound right on tape. … I used this voice for [entire album] … except 'Dream On.' 'Dream On' is the real me.'"

5. Joe Perry Didn't Think The Song Was "Rock And Roll"

Outside of Keith Richards, there aren't many rock guitarists cooler than Joe Perry. But lore has it that "Dream On" didn't register onthe cool meter of Aerosmith's resident riff meister at first. "Back in those days you made your mark playing live," Perry told Classic Rock magazine in 2002. "And to me rock 'n' roll's all about energy and putting on a show. Those were the things that attracted me to rock 'n' roll, but 'Dream On' was a ballad. I didn't really appreciate the musicality of it until later."

6. "Dream On" Bloomed With A Second Chart Wind

Upon its release as a single in 1973, "Dream On" sputtered at No. 59 on the Billboard Hot 100. After another Aerosmith ballad, "You See Me Crying," failed to chart in 1975, Aerosmith manager David Krebs peppered Columbia Records to re-release "Dream On." Columbia serviced Top 40 radio stations with both edited and full versions of "Dream On," a move that paid off handsomely. The re-release of "Dream On" zoomed to No. 6 in early 1976, earning the band their first of eight Top 10 hits.

7. A Slim Shady Sample

In the early 2000s, Taking Back Sunday were just some dudes living in Long Island, New York. Vocalist Adam Lazzara, guitarist and vocalist John Nolan, guitarist Eddie Reyes, bassist Shaun Cooper, and drummer Mark O'Connell all were working day jobs, but they were trying to make the music thing work, organizing DIY tours up and down the East Coast when they could. Unsure what to call their first demo CD, the quintet labeled it with a title that would eventually become fortuitous: "Tell All Your Friends."

It was a marching order for those with a copy, in hopes that the demo would land in the right hands. As fate would have it, the five-song CD was eventually heard by an A&R representative for Victory Records in 2001 — and the rest, as they say, is history.

Tell All Your Friends was officially released as Taking Back Sunday's debut album in March 2002, featuring 10 songs in total and introducing the band as one of the early forebearers of the decade's post-hardcore and emo movement. Though Taking Back Sunday reached their commercial peak with their third album, 2006's Louder Now, Tell All Your Friends is the fan favorite, and is seminal to both the band's career and the emo era as a whole. Millions of people around the world connected to the heart-on-the-sleeve songwriting and raw emotions conveyed in tracks like "Cute Without the 'E'," "Timberwolves of New Jersey," and "You're So Last Summer," all of which became huge hits on both radio and MTV; soon kids everywhere were growing out their bangs like Lazzara, wearing studded belts, and using lyrics as their AIM Away Messages.

Two decades later, Taking Back Sunday is still going strong. In 2023, they released their eighth album, 152, and on October 19 and 20, they will return to the When You Were Young Festival in Las Vegas, where they will play Tell All Your Friends in full. Ahead of the fest, GRAMMY.com caught up with Nolan to reminisce about those early days of Taking Back Sunday, and the memories behind every song on their debut album.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What do you remember of that time in your life before Tell All Your Friends was released?

We had signed our deal with Victory Records months before we went into the studio. When we were recording the record, we did it in Jersey City, but we all lived on Long Island. Adam, Eddie and I all lived in the same apartment at that point.

We were all working day jobs, so we were driving back and forth — which, you know, Long Island to Jersey City, depending on time of day, can either be a half hour or 3 hours. [Laughs.] So that definitely added a bit of complication to things.

But we were just so excited by the whole prospect. Anything that was challenging about getting there and back and juggling jobs didn't really matter. We were just so psyched about everything.

How did these songs come about for you guys? Had you been playing them for a while?

The first year or so of the band, we had a different singer and a few different bass players. Everything was kind of rotating. We finally got the lineup that we had on the album probably about a year before we recorded the album. During that time, we were writing and playing shows. As soon as we were done writing a song, we would play it live, because at that point, everything was new to everybody so it didn't matter. That was a cool thing to be able to do, because we were able to develop them live months before we ever recorded.

We also did a demo that had 5 songs from Tell All Your Friends on it that we started selling at shows. Those songs were the ones that were really established before we recorded.

When we were going into the studio, we didn't really have to put together an album because at that point, we had about 10 or 11 songs. We had written an album's worth of songs just kind of by chance. Some of them had been written more recently while others had been around for a while.

Listening to Tell All Your Friends 20 years later, is there anything in particular that stands out to you about the record?

The thing that jumps out to me the most is, we've been playing live for a very long time to a click track, so everything is very tight and on point. It's always interesting to me to hear the live versions of these songs where it speeds up and down. It's very inconsistent and very raw sounding because of that. I think it's part of what accidentally gave the album a certain level of excitement and made it stand out a bit.

You can definitely hear that raw energy on a song like "You Know How I Do," the first song on Tell All Your Friends. What makes it a good album opener?

That was one of the ones we had finished writing not too long before we went into the studio. So it was a new song in our mind. That was part of it. It felt like starting off with something that was new and exciting to us made sense. It just had feeling that felt like a good way to kick off the record. It has that intro with the one guitar and then everything kicks in.

After that comes "Bike Scene." Tell me about that song.

That one was one of the ones we recorded on the demo that we put out before the album. It had been established for a while. I don't think there were too many changes from the demo version to the record version. My sister Michelle sings on the bridge of that one. It was one of the songs that we started seeing a good reaction to at our shows pretty quickly.

So you guys honed that one on stage?

Yeah, that one didn't really go through many changes. We had that one locked in.

The next song on the record is "Cute Without The 'E'" which was a big single for you and a fan favorite. How did this song change things for the band?

Just getting signed to a record label was a huge accomplishment, and it was about as far ahead as we could think in terms of what our band could do. So, to be hearing our song on the radio and seeing it on TV not much longer after signing was mind blowing. I felt very surreal. It was very hard to believe that it was all true and actually happening.

I don't honestly remember how "Cute Without the 'E'" was chosen as a single. I don't remember any of us having a sense when we wrote and recorded that song that "this is the one," you know? It was a song on the album that we liked just as much as any other. For that one to take off the way it did was a bit of a surprise.

Is it true you don't rehearse this song anymore?

That is true, yes. We've played it at every show, I think, ever, from the time I was in the band in the early 2000s and then when I came back in 2010… that's a lot when you add that up. [Laughs.] That's one we don't really have any reason to rehearse, so we don't.

Next is "There's No 'I' In Team." There's a bit of a story behind this one, involving a falling out between you and a former bandmate, Jesse Lacey of Brand New. At this point, do you even still think about the drama that inspired song anymore? Is it hard for you to play?

No. I mean, it's so long ago. The actual emotions from the time, it's so far away. I find when we're playing these songs live, I will tap into something more current emotionally that I can channel into the song, but it's not the same events or emotions that originally inspired it.

There was a time, around the first six months or year that we played it, where the emotions of it and the circumstances around it were very real and very raw and new, and it was very intense and an emotional experience. I think that's part of what people responded to. I would say after that initial time, a lot of that stuff died down.

Tell me about "Great Romances of the 21st Century."

That was one of the first ones we wrote with the new lineup of the band. Our drummer, Mark, had actually come up with the guitar parts for that. I remember him showing it to me on an acoustic guitar one time in North Carolina while we were staying at someone's house before playing a show there. I remember just being really taken back by it, because I didn't even know he could play guitar. It was this intricate picking thing, and he was doing all these kind of weird chords and stuff. We then took his guitar parts, and got together and made it into the song.

I very clearly remember we were in our basement rehearsal space, which was at Mark's family's house. When we were finished writing and playing it, I remember feeling like something had really clicked and that we were onto something. There was something about that song that set the direction and tone for what the band was going to do.

We ended up making a music video for that one before we were even signed. We had a friend who made music videos and he wanted to do it. He ended up doing the "Cute Without the 'E'" video as well.

Because of the way it came together and how excited we were about it, we were like, this is the single, which is also sort of funny now because there's no normal structure to it. It would not make much sense as a single or something that could be played on the radio. But the song definitely caught on quickly when we started playing it live. We got a big reaction to it. It's funny now to think about how we were looking at that like, This song could be a big hit.

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"Ghost Man On Third" feels like an important song on the record. What can you tell me about it?

That one was a newer song when we were going into the studio. A lot of the lyrics and melodies on that one came from Adam's experience at the time. I remember when we first started playing it live being really taken back and amazed by the emotion that he was putting into it. It felt really powerful when we first started playing it live. It was before people knew the song.

That was really something to me, to have a song that you're playing in front of people and they don't even know it yet but it's still really powerful and you can see it grabbing everyone's attention. It has a different feel than a lot of the other songs. So in the context of the album, that one is very important for changing the mood up and keeping it from getting too much of the same thing. I think it's a key point in the album.

Why do you think fans connected with that raw emotion and honest songwriting? Do you think it was something that wasn't really there in rock music at the time?

It was interesting because nu-metal was still very popular and had been from the late '90s into the early 2000s. Then pop-punk was starting to become a lot more mainstream. I think when we were making that album, yeah, a lot of it was not in line with what was popular at that moment, but for whatever reason, things were kind of shifting in that direction. Thursday was a big part of that. They were getting nationwide attention. There was this shift away from that more pop-punk thing and whatever the nu-metal thing was into something a lot less polished and a lot more openly emotional.

And that kind of leads us into "Timberwolves of New Jersey" which touches upon the post-hardcore, emo scene in the New Jersey right?

Yeah, a little bit. It was something that I had started on my own on an acoustic guitar, and I brought it to the band. Then they made it into what you hear on the album.

When I was working on it, it didn't really sound like something that would make sense for the band, but then everybody got into it. It was somewhat based on our experiences with our first singer and old band members. It's kind of a mean-spirited and cocky song. That's where I was at at the time, I guess.

How old were you when you wrote it?

Like 22, 23. I was little older than some of the other guys, so I don't have as much of an excuse. Adam was only 18 or 19, I think.

I mean, that's how we all are at that age right?

[Laughs.] Yeah.

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Moving on to "The Blue Channel," I read somewhere that you guys weren't thrilled with the final mixes, is that right? How do you feel about the song now?

I play a piano part to introduce the song – this Wurlitzer sound – just very slow and that's how I played it in the studio. I did it on my keyboard to a MIDI track, which means all the notes are there digitally, and the producer is able to change the sound after the fact, and the notes can be manipulated into anything they want.

I recorded it, and we didn't hear it until they gave us a mix of the album. They made it twice the speed that I had played it. They cut it in half and made it double-time, basically. They changed the sound to a real piano sound, which kinda sounded fake. It was just completely shocking. We had no idea they were going to do that.

When I hear it now, it sounds fine. It's not really bad or anything like that. But when we called the studio and talked to the producer about the changes that we wanted to make, they were like, "Oh no, that's the album. That's the mix. We're out of time and we are over budget. The album's done."

There were a lot of things like that on the album that weren't necessarily what we wanted or asked for or were involved in choosing. They were just like, "That's it, that's the way the album is."

I guess you were so new at the time that you couldn't be like "no we want it this way," right?

Yeah, maybe we could have, technically, but that would've involved really stepping up, talking to the record label, and making a big scene over it. I think we did kind of feel like being a young new band that that was not our place. We were also on our way out of town to start one of our first real tours. So, we were not really in a place to spend a whole bunch of time fighting to get that done anyway. We kind of just accepted it.

It obviously didn't hurt the record.

No, apparently not!

Next, we got "You're So Last Summer," which, I mean, come on, That song rules. It's no wonder it's become one of your most memorable songs.

That one we had more of a sense of the potential for it to be a popular song. It's also kind of funny looking back on it, because I forget now but I think we put it like 8th or 9th on the record…

Yeah, it's the penultimate.

Definitely an odd choice to put that song towards the end, but I think it does hold up now to have something more straightforward and poppier come towards the end of the album. It's nice for the pacing of it, and it's unexpected.

That one got a very big reaction very quickly. One thing I always think about with "You're So Last Summer" is I had written the line, "The truth is you could slit my throat/ And with my one last gasping breath/ I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt," and when I wrote it, I was making an exaggerated point that was honest but I also thought it was funny.

It's a great line.

Yeah, but after it got popular, I always second guessed it. A certain amount of people just thought it was straightforward, complete dramatic teenager type of thing. I always had this love/hate relationship with that part of the song.

I've realized now it doesn't matter, because if something resonates with people, then that's good. You don't have to worry about why it's happening or what it means.

Finally, we got "Head Club." I love the way it closes out the record.

I always have mixed feelings about this song. We included this on our original demo and the ending of it – the big outro part – was different. I think I was the one who suggested changing it, and I wasn't always sure if that was the right choice or not. The other people in the band all kind of second guessed whether that was the right move or not. But I mean, nobody except for the people on Long Island or early fans who had the demo would even be able to make that comparison. For most people, it's just always the way the song was.

I always think about the drum intro. It's an interesting way to start the song to begin with, but then the producer put a flanger on the drums, which is really interesting and weird. I don't know if I've ever heard that before or since. It was an odd choice.

It works though!

It does! It's one of those things I don't even think about anymore, and probably anybody who listens to the record doesn't either. But the first time hearing it we were like, "What is that? That's weird."

So how are you feeling about playing all these songs in full at When We Were Young?

I think about half of the record are songs that we play on a regular basis, and the other half there's a bunch that we hardly ever play. There's definitely a few in there where it's been years since we've played them. We did one tour in 2019 where we were playing our first three albums, but a lot of the songs we haven't played since then.

It's always interesting going back and playing a whole album like this, because we get to see the live reaction to songs like "Cute Without the 'E'" and "So Last Summer" all the time, but it's always interesting to see the crowd respond and sing along to album tracks that are less-known. It's always interesting to see which of those it'll be. I'm still never sure.

"It's pretty cool to say we helped invent some kind of movement, that's pretty insane," Korn frontman Jonathan Davis told Kerrang! in 2019 about the group's instrumental role in nu-metal. "The last big movement was us. Other bands helped along the way, but we spearheaded that whole thing."

It may have taken a while — they'd spent years trying to distance themselves from the tag — but Bakersfield's finest are now proud to have originated the subgenre renowned for its punishing distorted riffs, emphatic rap-rock rhythms, and lyrics drowning in aggression, abandonment and abject nihilism.

Korn — whose original lineup also featured guitarists James 'Munky' Shaffer and Brian 'Head' Welch, bassist Reginald 'Fieldy' Arvizu, and drummer David Silveria — first showcased their revolutionary approach to metal on 1993 demo Neidermayer's Mind. But it was on 1994's eponymous LP where they truly started to upset rock's status quo.

Recorded in California's middle-of-nowhere Indigo Ranch Studios for the sum of just $14,000, Korn initially garnered a mixed response, with the Los Angeles Times summarizing its relentlessly bleak themes as "a failure, or at least a crippling narrowness, of vision" and Rock Extreme describing it as "almost dadaist" in its rejection of tunefulness and melodies. But over time, its 12 speaker-blasting tracks have become more appreciated: the general consensus now is that it's a metal game-changer in the vein of Black Sabbath's debut and Metallica's Master of Puppets.

Thirty years after its release, here's a look at the various ways in which Korn birthed a whole new sound — and then made it stratospheric.

It Addressed Angst Head-On

Unlike the grunge movement that had dominated '90s rock prior to their arrival, Korn preferred to address their deep-rooted angst in a far more direct manner. Indeed, fans didn't need to spend hours poring over their debut's lyrics booklet to determine exactly what Davis was singing (well, more like screaming) about.

"My life is rippin' your heart out and destroyin' my pain!," he roars on "Fake." "You're too afraid to really be/ Someone who isn't false and doesn't care to be," goes the similarly vengeful "Lies." Meanwhile, "Predictable," a riposte to the crushing mundanity of everyday life, finds him wondering out loud whether to simply end it all.

Korn might not have been the most literate of records, but it did inspire a generation of bands — particularly those within the emo movement — to explicitly bare their souls.

It Wore Its Outsider Status On Its Sleeve

The nu-metal scene prided itself on providing an outlet for those who felt rejected by mainstream society, particularly during those turbulent high school years. And few albums fought harder against jock culture than Korn's eponymous debut.

"Clown" was inspired by an onstage encounter with an aggressive heckler put in his place by the band's towering road manager. Most notably, "Faget" saw Davis attempt to reclaim the slur constantly hurled at him for daring to wear makeup and listen to Duran Duran. "Couldn't walk through the halls without hearing that or being picked on," the frontman later remarked to the Los Angeles Times.

Meanwhile, "Daddy," the harrowing closing track detailing the childhood abuse Davis suffered at the hands of his babysitter, further broke down barriers in a predominantly macho world. "In metal, it's all about being a tough, badass dude," he told MI College of Contemporary Music in 2018. "I wasn't ashamed to say I was sensitive."

It Introduced The Scene's Greatest Producer

From Slipknot and Soulfly's self-titled debuts to Machine Head's Burning Red and Limp Bizkit's Three Dollar Bill Y'All, producer Ross Robinson oversaw many of the nu-metal scene's most pivotal records. And it was Korn's eponymous first LP that helped the man routinely hailed as its Godfather come to prominence.

Robinson modestly claims that he had little idea what he was doing when he took to the studio with five hellraising rockers in tow. But his ability to assault the senses and draw out the rawest of emotions undoubtedly laid the blueprint for the genre. In fact, Brazilian metalers Sepultura were reportedly so impressed with what they heard, they specifically hired the Texan to replicate its sound on their 1996 breakthrough sixth LP Roots. Despite the glut of bands Robinson has worked with since, however, Davis still believes he's the producer's favorite.

It Popularized The Seven-String Guitar

Inspired by the experimentalism of legendary axeman Steve Vai ("I loved how he took the instrument to the extreme and made the guitar talk," he told Reverb in 2020), Korn's Munky brought the seven-string guitar kicking and screaming into the mid-1990s, using the additional lower note to further bolster the oppressive nature of Korn's debut. Limp Bizkit's Wes Borland, Incubus' Mike Einziger, and Deftones' Stephen Carpenter would all follow suit, turning the adapted instrument — specifically, the Ibanez Universe 777 — into nu-metal's must-have.

Ironically, the seven-string wasn't initially considered appropriate for Korn's brand of metal due to its highly technical nature. And yet, Munky and fellow convert Head constantly delivered riff after monstrous riff, creating a sound that would reverberate across the rock scene for the next decade. Luckily, Vaiapproved of the direction they took with pride and joy.

Korn would go on to pick up nine MTV Video Music Award nominations — and, ultimately, two wins, as well as a GRAMMY for Best Short Form Music Video — for their 1999 career-defining single "Freak On A Leash." But the quintet first showed that their visuals could match the intensity of their sound five years previously.

Korn spawned a trio of videos which received heavy rotation in the mid-1990s. The stage performance treatments for "Shoots and Ladders" and "Blind" brilliantly recaptured the mosh pit chaos of their live shows. On the other hand, "Clown" drew upon Davis' real-life experiences of high school bullying for a more narrative-driven promo, which sees a head cheerleader realize she has more in common with the outcasts than the jocks she waves her pom-poms for. (Interestingly, all three were helmed by a young Joseph McGinty Nichol, the future Charlie's Angels, This Means War, and Terminator Salvation director better known as McG.)

It Advocated That Anything Goes

Nu-metal undoubtedly pushed the more conventional form of the genre outside of its comfort zone, embracing everything from turntablism and hip-hop beats to sampling and seven-string guitars. And Korn's debut undoubtedly opened the floodgates.

The distinctive banging heard toward the end of "Ball Tongue"? Well, that was created by Munky hitting a music stand with his guitar cord. The distant lullaby sung by a female voice on haunting closer "Daddy"? That's a random lady from Davis' mom's workshop. Then there's "Shoots and Ladders," which dissects the problematic nature of nursery rhymes while accompanied by the distinctly non-metal sound of bagpipes. Yes, bagpipes.

"The first time we heard him play we were like, 'Holy s—,'" remarked Munky about Davis' unlikely skills on the Scottish woodwind, a reaction which may well have been repeated by unsuspecting listeners, too.

Korn are unarguably second only to Run-D.M.C. when it comes to Adidas-obsessed musicians: like the pioneering hip-hop trio, the Californians titled a song in the sportswear brand's honor (even if the acronym "A.D.I.D.A.S" stands for something else entirely) and also later launched their own range with the German giants. And by swapping the usual metal gear for tracksuits and trainers, Davis and co. ultimately changed the fashion game.

Whether Limp Bizkit's backward baseball caps or Deftones' skater chic, the nu-metal scene undoubtedly has Korn's debut — particularly its accompanying tour and music videos — to thank for steering metal into more athletic apparel. "It was about smashing down walls and embracing all kinds of different music styles and musical cultures," Davis told Kerrang! in 2021. "It was about going against everything that metal was supposed to be."

It Enjoyed Slow-Burning Success

Korn could never be described as an instant commercial smash. It took nearly 18 months to reach its peak position on the Billboard 200, and even that was a relatively lowly No. 72. But thanks to its sustained word-of-mouth and Korn's constant touring presence — alongside dozens of headline shows, they also supported Ozzy Osbourne, Megadeth, and Sick Of It All — the record eventually went on to sell 10 million copies worldwide, paving the way for 2000's commercial blockbusters Limp Bizkit's Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water and Linkin Park's Hybrid Theory.

The band, and the nu-metal scene itself, also had to wait a while to receive GRAMMY Awards attention. Their first (and only) nomination for Korn didn't come until 1997, when "Shoots and Ladders" was nominated in the Best Metal Performance category. Though Korn lost to Rage Against the Machine's "Tire Me" on that occasion, they've since won two golden gramophones (Best Short Form Music Video for "Freak on a Leash" in 2000 and Best Metal Performance for "Here To Stay" in 2003) and garnered eight GRAMMY nominations total.

"It was something I related to and had been waiting for," Limp Bizkit's Fred Durst once said of Korn's breakthrough. "I thought, 'Where have these guys been my whole life?'" It's a viewpoint echoed by practically every nu-metal outfit who emerged in Korn's wake.

Linkin Park's Mike Shinoda has cited Davis as a major inspiration on his songwriting approach, particularly for being an "open book putting all of his most f—ed-up stuff right out there in the lyrics." Slipknot's Corey Taylor described seeing them on the album's accompanying tour as "one of the best concerts I've ever seen."

Collaborations with hardcore favorites Suicide Silence and dubstep maestro Skrillex (the latter of whomhelped produce the band's 2011 LP The Path of Totality) also prove that Korn's influence extends far beyond their wheelhouse. Meanwhile, newer fanboys such as Tallah and Tetrarch are showing that even three decades on, Korn is still teaching metalheads how to let it all out.

Howard Benson unlocks the door to his West Valley Recording Studios, which is hidden at the back of a spacious home in the Woodland Hills neighborhood of Los Angeles. Though it has been pared down from the original space Benson opened in 2012, the tucked-away studio is a major part of the two-time Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical GRAMMY nominee's acclaimed career. Along with being the place where he adds his unerring touch to records by Starset, DIAMANTE, Jonathan Young, and Dead Rabbitts, it's also where he produces the music for Judge & Jury Records.

Benson launched the independent label, production and publishing company with Three Days Grace drummer Neil Sanderson in 2021 — not only adding co-founder to his resume, but also adding another generation of rock stars to his legacy.

In his four decades of music production, Benson has produced over 150 albums, and his work has sold more than 40 million records. After making a name for himself as a producer for rock acts like T.S.O.L. and Motörhead in the '80s and '90s, Benson became one of the most sought-after rock producers in the mid-2000s. Along with helping put My Chemical Romance on the map with their breakthrough 2004 album Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, Benson also helmed Hoobastank's GRAMMY-nominated 2003 LP The Reason, Saosin's 2006 debut, Creed's last album (2009's Full Circle), and four albums for Three Days Grace.

By the end of the decade, he was averaging 10 albums a year, and his impressive credits earned him back-to-back Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical GRAMMY nominations in 2007 and 2008. While rock has remained his core, Benson's productions have covered a cross-section of musical styles and artists in the years since, including pop darlings Kelly Clarkson and Adam Lambert as well as country trio Rascal Flatts. Now, he's bringing his expertise to Judge & Jury's ever-growing roster, and as a result, Benson has never been more artistically satisfied.

In conversation with GRAMMY.com, the producer reflects on some of his biggest career achievements, and why Judge & Jury Records may just be his favorite.

What was the impetus for Judge & Jury Records?

I was getting tired of not being in control of the projects I was producing and what happened with them after I was finished. Rock being on a "downturn," it became more disappointing to look at the royalties. I thought, "Am I going to stop right now, take the winnings off the table, move to Santa Barbara and forget about it? Or am I going to experiment a little bit?"

It came together sort of by accident because of an artist named Diamante who had gotten dropped. Neil and I signed her to a production deal and financed the making of her record. We had such a good time doing it because we didn't have to answer to anybody. We found the songs. We helped co-write everything. The record did okay, and we started seeing money coming in.

How did that experience lead to Judge & Jury?

The next step was a production company and label. We started looking around, but we were so new at it, we didn't know what we were looking for or what to sign. We set up Judge & Jury Records as an LLC. My son Grady helped. He likes the hard part of the music business: the royalty collection side, the data side, the social media side.

Grady happened on the fact that Starset and Breaking Benjamin were both out of their deals. We were able to do one song with them together, "Waiting on the Sky to Change," and we owned it. For us, that was a big deal. It's a 50/50 split. Keep in mind, as a producer, I'm a three or four points [percentage of royalties] guy. Now I'm a 50 points guy. That's a big difference, but I'm financing it. The song went to No. 1 [on Mediabase Active rock chart].

It was fun. We are captaining our own ship. Now, I can't imagine a scenario where every day I don't know everything that is going on with my records. It's driven by so many more things than I was aware of. Now we're signing significant bands like Saliva and Butcher Babies because we're doing it right.

What were some learning curves with Judge & Jury?

In the beginning, we signed a bunch of garbage and we didn't know what we were doing. We had to accept that we were going to have some failures. I had to learn a lot of business stuff. What's investment banking? How do we borrow money from companies?

It's been a lot more work than I planned on. For about a year I was like, "What am I doing here?" It took me a while to enjoy it.

What were some of the mistakes you made with Judge & Jury?

When we first started the label, we said we have to be exclusive for five albums and we're going to go to radio. We realized both of those were bad concepts. Every time you go to radio, it's $85,000 per song to hit Top 5 on rock radio. We were thinking in a past tense way. The new way doesn't feel like it will make money, but it makes more money.

The deals we make with artists now are non-exclusive. Artists want to have the freedom to do what they want. We looked at this as a bad thing because we were used to exclusivity. But it's actually a good thing, because if we sign an artist and we want to put a song out on September 1, and on September 30, they want to put out a song with their buddies and own it, a major would never let you do that. We let them do that because it's extra money they can make, and it benefits our song.

Are you thinking in terms of albums or only songs?

Artists want to do albums, and I think it's important. It's a story, especially with rock bands. There's still the mystique. What are they trying to say? What is the vision? What's your vector, your force and direction? If you don't have it, you're not going to get those fans.

That's what those fans believe, and 20 years from now, they're going to remember when they hear that Dead Rabbitts album. That's the singer from Escape the Fate. That guy has a vision. He has gone through recovery and sees his life every time he writes a song, so it's easy for me. I always say, "Give me the vision, I can do the rest." If you don't have a vision, I'm screwed.

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How has your producer role evolved?

I'm not producing outside Judge & Jury. Artists can't afford me anymore. Even when I produce a record for a semi-big band, it's not enough points and the royalties suck because you're only selling one song instead of 10.

My role has become much more succinct. I do the songs and the vocals. The rest of it, we have people that are younger and have new technology. I'm in my 60s, Neil's in his 40s, the rest of our company are in their 30s and 20s. I don't always agree with them. Sometimes I listen to them and go, "What the hell is this s—?" I think they're nuts. But, they're almost always right.

Their vision of how they see the world is weird and interesting. I remember my parents used to hate that I would listen to music all the time. This is the same. It's just not me, but I'll let them run with it.

How has your outlook changed on the business side?

Our business is not going to sell Taylor Swift numbers. But if we have great songs, our artists' careers are going to do really well. Bands want to succeed. They know it's much harder. There are way more artists and way less money. Before, there was way less bands and way more money. It was a different paradigm. When you walked into a studio, your minimum budget was $300,000. Now, you can make 50 records for that. We make our records here and the budget is probably $20,000-$30,000, soup to nuts, and they sound just as good as the records we were making back then.

What is your attitude toward AI?

Last year, we had a panic attack. We saw AI writing tracks and I called up Atlantic and Sony asking, "What are you guys doing about this?" They said, "We don't care. We don't worry about it. It's not part of our world." It could have been they weren't worried about it, or they were just blind. I had to decide what my worldview was going to be on it, right or wrong. If you listen to Led Zeppelin IV, and you borrow stuff from it to write your next record, isn't that kind of what AI is anyway? Borrowing stuff from stuff? It's just faster.

Am I going to use AI as a tool? Absolutely. It's a great tool. If you have no ideas, and you go, "Write me a song called 'Lights Out'," it writes it fast. You go, "There's five lines in here I like. I'll use those." Question is, who owns it? Nobody knows the answer to that. The small print says the AI company owns it. That's the part the lawyers are going to have to sort out.

AI is going to make live shows more important, because that's the real deal. That's when you're going to see the connection. I might be wrong, but I think people still want to connect with people. That's the feeling part. That's what this is about. Is AI ever going to tour? Are you going to watch a video of the AI and go, "Wow, I relate to that?" Probably not. We have to aim for the part that's connecting. When I see my artists deliver those things, it gives me goosebumps.

Did you see that personal connection from the jump with My Chemical Romance?

Nobody wanted to produce them because their record before mine was a thrash record. My manager said to me, "You need to meet these guys. Something is going on with them." [When] I met them, [they had] no songs [to play for me]. But I looked the singer [Gerard Way] in the eye and I'd done enough at that point in my life where I had this feeling about this kid. He was going to be a star.

I asked him, "Are you worried about the 3,000 fans you have? Or do you want to have 300,000,000 fans? Which kind of record are we going to make?" He goes, "F— the 3,000 fans." I was like, "Okay, we can do business."

Their A&R guy Craig Aaronson called me up one night and goes, "At the end of one of these cassettes is a lyric that goes, 'I'm not okay.'" I remember going to rehearsal and saying, "We have to write a song around that." [Gerard] wrote the song literally overnight, came back the next day with a half-written song. From then on, the record took shape.

That moment of my life, watching it unfold, I realized how simple it is, but it had to be. Think about how many millions of people have connected to that and still do. There was something missing at that point that Gerard tapped into. It's the most influential record I've ever made.

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Do you feel rock bands have more of a legacy, and in the process, a more loyal fan base than other genres?

Malcolm Gladwell had a podcast called Revisionist History. He posed the question, "Why are rock lyrics never direct?" Nobody knows what [Nirvana's] "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is really about, but you know there's anger and confusion and desperation in that song and it's coming out. I think that's what makes rock songs long lasting, because you can come up with your own interpretation. They're yours. That's why they go on forever.

When I was producing Chester Bennington, last time we met, I asked him, "Why does Linkin Park sell so many records? What do you think it is?" He said, "Because we write the same song every time: I'm 17, I'm feeling something, and I don't know what it is." If you're a 17-year-old, you totally get it. These guys are confused. I'm confused. Those things are never going to go out of style. That's why you get new fans too. That 17-year-old is now 27 but there's a new 17-year-old who's confused. The 27-year old's probably still confused, but in a different way.

When you have a rock band, you see the same active group of people. They're going to be there forever. They're going to be the VIPs, spending money when they go to your shows, buying all your merch.

When I was working with Irving Azoff [at Giant Records], he said he was going to put Journey on tour. I said Journey was dead and he said, "Those fans are now rich. They're going to come out and they're going to spend money to see this band. It doesn't matter how much we charge, they're going to show up and they're going to buy merch." He was right.

My theory about bands is they're going to start being like sports teams. Even if everybody dies, new people will come in and replace them. The songs are still great. The new fans will not know the difference.

Are you producing any physical product for the Judge & Jury artists?

The bands are in the T-shirt business. We don't take their merch. That's the way they make money.

When artists complain about not having CDs, I tell them, "Go make a CD, see how hard it is. Do the color separation. Do the artwork. Get the plastic done. Print them up. Buy them. Put them in the back of your car. Go to all the stores that exist, if any, and sell them. Or, here's your other option: Send a song to DistroKid. It's up the next day. You're telling me that's not a better deal for you?" Nobody thinks that way. You think that because you're not getting $100,000 for 100,000 streams that it sucks. Well, you're not going to sell $100,000 worth of CDs.

We do a small run of vinyl, but it's lucrative because if you have a dedicated fan base, you can make them for $3 and sell them for $20. We sell them to the artists for the price we pay. They take them on the road and they keep the money.

Vinyl is funny. Nobody plays it. One of my artists, Jonathan Young, couldn't get the vinyl in time, but he could make the 12x12 flat, so he just sold the flat. People paid $5 for a flat that cost him $.50 to make. He sold out of them.

Do you find artists are savvier than they used to be about the business side of music?

You would be surprised how little bands know about how to collect. When bands say they can't make any money doing this, I say, "Yes, because you don't collect it." They don't have Sound Exchange set up, BMI or ASCAP set up, publishing set up. Who is paying them? And these are experienced bands.

Artists' biggest problem is hiring a business manager. It's like having a crutch. They never learn how to do it. I'm not saying you have to learn how to do it, but you should know if the money's missing. It's a lot of paperwork and it's so complicated and nobody's going to help you with it because there's nothing in it for them.

I always say, remember when we sign an artist, we're signing their family, their kids, their preschools. We have to make sure we deliver for these people, account to them correctly, make sure they know when they recoup, and give them the tools they need.

What advice would you give to someone who wants to be the next Howard Benson?

The career path is: "Who's Howard Benson?" Then, "Get me Howard Benson!" Then, "Get me the next Howard Benson!" Then, "Who's Howard Benson?"

Dustin Bates from Starset has found a niche for himself by traveling to the artists. He has his whole set up in his laptop. Dan Lancaster, who's producing the next Three Days Grace record, came from England. He makes the record on the laptop, right in front of them. They write the demos, then record it.

That's the new version of producer: a person that shows up in your hotel room with your five guys and has a demo when he walks out two hours later, done. You have to be me in this new way, which is quick, no waiting, two, three weeks, max. They're like doctors doing home visits with all the tools.

Attach yourself to great music. Don't make crap. Even with all the cool production s—, the songwriting has to be great. You still have to have great lyrics. If you can recognize talent, people are going to always want to be around you.

In May 2022, Gavin DeGraw stood on a precipice: He had just released his seventh studio album, Face the River, and completed his contract with Sony Music.

The GRAMMY-nominated singer/songwriter had free reign for his next career move. And with the 20th anniversary of his seminal debut, 2003's Chariot, on the horizon, DeGraw had an idea.**

"I've been living with these songs, and I've been fortunate enough to have success with these songs already in the past," he tells GRAMMY.com, "[so I thought], What a great opportunity to recut the songs."

Chariot 20 features re-imaginings of all 11 songs on the original album, as well as two unreleased tracks from the Chariot sessions: "Get Lost" and "Love Is Stronger (Alright)." Bringing new life to the music, Chariot 20 features lush instrumentation and playful riffs on each tune, resulting in a version of the album that's even more true to who DeGraw is as a performer.

"I've been playing these songs for so long, and I feel like the performances had actually improved, and the level of execution had escalated," DeGraw says of Chariot. "Why not take the opportunity to document that, and enjoy that, and make it sound even that much more intimate and special?"

In celebration of Chariot 20, the upstate New York native Zoomed with GRAMMY.com from a park in New York City to reflect on the impact Chariot had on his career — from allowing him to pay off student loans, to putting him on stage with his idols.

Re-recording albums has become somewhat of a trend as of late, whether it's to regain ownership or to celebrate an anniversary. Was your re-recording of Chariot simply inspired by its 20th anniversary? Or was it something more for you?

All of the above. The fact that the 20th anniversary of the record was coming up right after I had just satisfied my record deal obligations with Sony New York City, it was all great timing. Trust the universe, right?

It was just right to make this record the way we made it, and with the partners that we made it with. You know, I had just made a record just a couple years earlier, with Dave Cobb, and we had cut a record called Face The River. And I love the way the record sounded.

That was my first time working with Dave, and I thought he did such a great job. The sounds and the performances were just so authentic and so homegrown. He really captured my voice in the most authentic way. I realized that he'd be the perfect guy to recapture the Chariot record.

This recording brings new life to this album, and also a level of authenticity that I really believe in for this album. These intimate songs, luckily, had become a lot of hit songs for me, but [Dave] was able to capture these songs in an even more intimate way. It really feels just so from my mouth to your ear.

Also, it was a fun excuse to put these other new songs on that were written from that same era that didn't make the first record. One of the things that I'm excited about is the way that [my new label] Sony Music Nashville has gravitated towards those other songs from that era. Not only "I Don't Want to Be" and "Chariot," but other songs from that era that I'm proud of.

Did you have a favorite song on Chariot before you re-recorded the album? And if so, did that change once you revisited all the songs again?

Well, I'll tell you that the two that didn't quite make the first record are the two real surprises for me. But also the ones that did make the first record that surprised me probably would be "Meaning" and "Overrated." Because the recordings are so simple, and the songs really just speak. There's no tricks, it's just very simple, very authentic, very pure.

Before you actually announced the full album, you released the re-recorded version of "Chariot." In a post about it, you said, "I've changed so much, and I wanted my music to reflect this growth." What are the biggest ways you feel you've changed since releasing Chariot, whether as an artist or even a person, or maybe a little of both?

I think the main thing would be the level of confidence in your performance as an artist. There's 20 years of growth of development of your skill set and of your confidence level. And, you know, 20 years ago, you're evolving, figuring out, Who am I? What kind of record do I want to make? [Today], your voice is more lived in, more mature. [You're] just better at your craft due to your life experience.

There's just a level of living in the song now. You can hear it in the delivery: everybody is so deliberate in what they're doing, performance-wise. And all that comes from that believability.

You've talked about how you had several frustrating years where nothing was really happening for you before Chariot came along. And you were in your mid-twenties when you released it, which can be seen as "old" in this industry. When you finished Chariot, what do you remember thinking about what it could potentially do for you as an artist?

When I was putting that first record out — and even before I put that first record out — I was putting so much pressure on myself, as many people put pressure on themselves, to make a good living. Getting a record deal and making a record was a byproduct of endless hours of pursuit, and sweat, and frustration. Basically, getting my ass handed to me in real life trying to make $1 here and there playing live gigs at bars and clubs.

My motivation was, I'm broke, I want to make a living doing this. So your motivation at the very, very beginning is much simpler, right? And then, when you're not broke anymore, your motivation graduates a little bit. Now, [it's] how do I continue to grow artistically, and make a living, and express myself? How do I demonstrate that I'm improving at my craft?

I'll never forget being broke. I can't shake that feeling, and that chip on my shoulder that I had as a kid never went away. It keeps me working hard. It's motivation for me. It reminds me how lucky I am to have an opportunity. It reminds me that I'm representing where I'm from. I'm representing the people I grew up with who had the same frustrations, had the same stories. And so you're not just making music for yourself, you're making music for a culture of people.

What was the reaction like when you first released the album, and when did you kind of start to feel the shift?

Personally, I wanted "I Don't Want to Be" to be the first single and "Chariot" to be the second single, but we went with "Follow Through." When "Follow Through" wasn't getting the love we wanted to get early on, that's when I got a phone call about "I Don't Want to Be" having an opportunity to get placed on TV, which was obviously a huge, huge gift to me.

Once that song got picked up for ["One Tree Hill"], the focus switched to support the success of "I Don't Want to Be," and it fortunately proved worthwhile. We probably worked that song for a full year or so before it was a hit, and that was obviously life-changing.

I hope you had an "I told you so" moment about "I Don't Want to Be" being the right first single.

No, no, I would never do that. Because here's the way I view it. As an artist, if you're lucky enough to end up with a great partner at a record company; anything that they're embracing of yours, you're lucky they're embracing it at all. If someone at the record company chooses one song as the better choice above what you wanted, don't blame them, here's why — you're the one who recorded that song! You handed the album to them! That's on you! [Laughs.]

That's a lesson to you as the artist of, S—, maybe I need to do a better job next time if I don't believe that any one of these things could be the one. That's my problem.

Many people probably associate "I Don't Want to Be" as the "One Tree Hill" theme song. But what do you associate with that song? Is there a special memory or moment that stands out?

The main thing that I think about for that song is, that is my autobiography. I didn't write it for anything other than my real life. It was one of the songs on my album, and it happened to be the song that a show picked up, and thank God they did. But I still think about the roots of the song when I think about that song.

To add to that, that's the song that paid off my college loans. So, I'll take it!

Do you remember the moment or the time that you realized that this album had actually changed your life?

The phone call was big regarding placement, but I don't remember the exact moment where I thought, Okay, cool, I made it. Because it didn't seem to happen like that for me. I will say, the skeptic in me was worried about when the magic carpet was gonna get pulled out from under me at every moment.

Probably the biggest thing for me was getting a phone call to do the first Billy Joel show [in 2014]. Seeing him live when I was 15 years old was the deciding factor for me to become a musician for living, so when the call came in to open for Billy, that was maybe the moment I thought, Wow, my hero has invited me to play a show. This is a big deal for me.

Does he know that he's your childhood hero? Did you get a chance to tell him that he's the reason that you got into music?

I think he may know that by now. I hope he does. Doing those shows with him, opening for him, those were huge, huge validation moments for me, as a musician, as a fan, as a native New Yorker. It's like opening up for the Pope at the Vatican, playing with Billy in New York.

What are some of the most unbelievable opportunities you remember getting because of Chariot?

One of the biggest ones would probably be the Songwriters Hall of Fame event [in 2003]. I got a phone call from Phil Ramone, who's a very big producer, a legendary guy. He asked me what I'd like to do during that show and gave me a couple options. My part was performing a Phil Collins song, "Against All Odds," doing a speech, and then giving Phil Collins his award.

What an honor to be part of that. He was a lovely guy. When I walked off stage, the first person that stopped me to congratulate me on my little part of the show was Brian May from Queen. And I'm a huge Queen fan. He said something very regal as a compliment, "That was magnificent" or something that I didn't deserve, which was lovely. It made me feel good.

That night, there were so many amazing artists performing. Here's who played that night — and this is why it means so much to me. That very night, it was the first time I'd seen Billy Joel in person. He was running to the stage to go do a song in honor of another songwriter named Jimmy Webb. So he played that night. Barry Manilow played that night. Van Morrison played that night, and the guy playing piano, singing harmonies for Van Morrison, was Ray Charles. Alicia Keys played that night. Tony Bennett played that night!

I was so beside myself that I was invited to be part of this very special musical community that, at the time, and even now, I feel like, I don't deserve that. I was just so honored to be invited to be part of that, musically, artistically. What a moment for some dude in some small prison town in upstate New York who grew up playing barrooms.

To be invited to be part of that, I was pinching myself. I'll never ever forget a moment like that. A very extraordinary evening for a guy like me.

And Chariot did that for you!

Chariot did that for me. Isn't that unbelievable? Honestly, I'm still baffled by it.