The real reason Killing Joke’s Jaz Coleman fled to Iceland: “I told everybody the end of the world was coming”
The 1980s was a decade marked by vast societal unrest and intense cultural paranoia. These were the years that would experience the notorious Satanic panic, the tragic AIDS epidemic, and a general feeling that the world was about to end. In an effort to curate the perfect environment for the incoming apocalypse, Killing Joke‘s Jaz Coleman packed up and moved to Iceland for the best chance of survival. At least, that’s what he told everybody at the time.
In 1982, the narrative surrounding Coleman’s decision to flee was rooted mainly in nationwide impending doom. “Back then, 80 per cent of people aged 20 or younger thought they were going to die in a nuclear holocaust,” he explained, knowing that due to this, his fabricated story would likely be believed by most people. However, his motivation for distracting the public from the real reason behind his relocation might come as a surprise.
After the rest of the band had to endure a performance of ‘Empire Song’ on Top Of The Pops, guitarist Geordie Walker joined Coleman overseas. “Iceland was an idea about islands, small self-sufficient places, establishing temporary life off the grid,” Walker told Uncut. “We loved it there, getting away from the rest of the world. We never meant to move there permanently.”
However, the pair moving to the Nordic island to prepare for the end of the world ended up being a myth, as later debunked by Coleman himself: “I told everybody the end of the world was coming, but that was to get people off my back,” he said. “I wanted to begin a process of individuation, to find my place in life, and I wanted to get away from roads because I’m interested in geometric energy. It was in Iceland, on my 22nd birthday, that I made the decision to become a composer.”
On reflection, Coleman feels Iceland would have been an odd choice of residence during the apocalypse. As he explained in Metal Hammer: “Even back in ’82, cruise missiles and nuclear warheads could have reached Iceland. There was a US airbase at Keflavík. It’s not a good place to escape the apocalypse if that’s what your plan is.”
Instead, Coleman and Walker started a record company in Reykjavík, but unlike other labels, which sell and promote artist’s material, they sold drugs. As Coleman put it: “[We] had this guy who would meet my ex-girlfriend at Heathrow,” he told Mojo, “And she’d send him back with these cassettes full of hash. We were onto a good thing – I got a grand piano out of it.”
The operation wasn’t destined to be a long-term plan, however, as the pair shut shop “just before the shit hit the fan”. Although, at the time, it was generally believed that the two musicians had arrived back in London after realising that the apocalypse was no longer inevitable. He was a man with many sides; the genius was that his story made complete sense. For someone with a strong interest in a meaningful existence and the occult, moving to Iceland to survive the end of the world seemed perfectly plausible.
