‘Maybe I Became a Scapegoat’

Jay Weinberg was just 18 years old when Bruce Springsteen presented him with the incredible opportunity to fill in for his father, E Street Band drummer Max Weinberg, on a stadium tour of Europe. It was a trial by fire for the younger Weinberg, who had little experience performing outside of bars, and the start of a 17-year career during which he’s played in Madball, Against Me!, and Slipknot.

It hasn’t always been a smooth ride. He parted from all three of those groups with various degrees of acrimony, and the Slipknot exit was particularly difficult since he dedicated a decade of his life to the metal band before they made what they called a “creative decision” to jettison him in 2023.

In the past couple of years, Weinberg has toured with Suicidal Tendencies, recorded with Fuming Mouth, launched the new band Portraits of an Apparition, and recorded his first solo music. He’s also teamed up with Reverb to sell gear from his past, including drum kits he used with the E Street Band and Slipknot.

We hopped on a Zoom with Weinberg to learn about the Reverb sale, and look back on his years with all the bands he’s played with. He’s kept mostly silent about the Slipknot situation over the past couple of years, but he walked through the entire saga with us in great detail.

Where am I catching you?
I’m at home in Nashville. The weather is starting to heat up, and many things are happening in my world. My wife and I are expecting our first child. There’s all the natural things that happen when something like that happens. Your whole world changes and your whole living space changes. I’m building a proper home studio in my backyard now so I can finally have a proper place to make good recordings.

Let’s start with the Reverb sale. Why did this feel like the right time to unload some of this stuff?
I’ve loved having the gear that I’ve collected over 17 years. They’re tools that have helped me in all of my artistic pursuits over almost two decades. But I’m now assessing what I have, the gear I need, as I’m building this at-home studio. Have you heard of the Marie Kondo method of discarding your belongings? She has a great line that says, “If something doesn’t spark joy, discard it.”

I find myself assessing a lot, especially through the eyes of somebody becoming a parent for the first time, what is meaningful for me to have in my living space and what would have more meaning to get out there into the world. I want these great tools to continue to live their creative lives, just not with me. I’m comfortable with that. I see this as an opportunity to also do some good in donating a portion of the proceeds to MusiCares, a group that I really admire that does great work for musicians in need.

Let’s go back now and trace some big moments in your career, starting with your time in the E Street Band back in 2009. How did you grow as a drummer during that time?
The growth was like an absolute vertical learning curve. I had been playing drums for three years at that point. And my relationship to this band is through my father, through my aunts and uncles of the E Street Band, and Bruce, obviously. It’s funny because Steve [Van Zandt] and I were talking about this just last year. He told me about a conversation between him and Bruce that I didn’t know about. 

Steve had seen me play at Handsome Dick Manitoba’s bar on the Lower East Side in New York with my high school band. I’d been playing for a couple of years, and we were very inspired by Mastodon and Slayer, crazy complicated music at that point for teenagers.

He told Bruce, as they were trying to figure out this scheduling conflict, “What about Max’s kid? I saw him playing this crazy music at a bar. He knows us. We know him. He’s grown up around us. Trust me, the music that he’s into, it’ll make your songs be like ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’”

That was Steve’s pitch. They consulted my father since it’s about his position in the band. And he was kind of like, “That could be great.” It was keeping it in the family. And you have Jake Clemons, who’s been with the band for over a decade. Keeping it in the family is very important to them, and to Bruce.

These are people in my life that I would never want to let down in any way. And the fact that they’re taking a total shot in the complete dark on a completely unproven person meant a lot to me. I knew that I had a lot to live up to. It required a lot of practice, diligence, and focus. And this fear just gripped me, since I was an 18-year-old taking this on.

Right. At that point, Bruce could call a song or pull a sign from the audience and call for something you’ve never played in your life.
That happened many, many times. That was a whole part of the dynamic of the show that I had grown to love. And so going into the challenge, I knew that I couldn’t shortchange the E Street experience. Bruce, without language even, was able to coach me and guide me through this landscape of that. It was all new to me. I never played in front of more than 50 people at that point.

The fact that it was with family, blood, and as close as you can possibly be without being blood family, that was how I navigated that experience. When it came to its natural conclusion, I wanted to take that energy, and that focus and drive, to whatever I could find for myself after.

How was your Madball experience?
At that point, I had spent many years playing in heavy metal and punk rock and hardcore bands. They were little ones, of course. But when they hit me up, just kind of like, “We need a drummer for a tour starting in two weeks. Do you know anybody?” They didn’t even ask me if I would be down or available. I was like, “I would love to do that.” 

I got to play with a legendary hardcore band that I have a massive respect for, and be in a bus. It was month-long tour, maybe a little more, with 31 people on one bus. It was wild, but I was revved up for that opportunity.

When you left the band, you referenced “disturbing events within the band.” What was going on?
We had just completed an album, and I was really excited. It was like my first actual recording experience, and I was really excited about being out there playing these songs that we crafted. But I just got this sense that it was not exactly the right fit, whether that’s generational differences or however you might want to define it. 

I had a conversation with the guys like, “After these things I think it’s probably better for you guys to find a drummer who’s more your speed.” And so really that was all that conversation was. And it was unfortunate the way it all unfolded. But last year, Suicidal Tendencies had the great opportunity to play the Black N Blue Bowl, which is largely put on by Freddy [Cricien] from Madball and his associates. I hadn’t seen Freddy in about 15 years. We got to hug and have a coming together where it was just like, “Hey, I was 19 and figuring out what I wanted to do in music and it just happened to not be Madball.”

I think we recognize many years later that all that stuff is really small potatoes compared to the larger aspect of things.

Tell me about your time in Against Me!.
Well, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. My good friend, Andrew Seward, had been in Against Me! for a long time. And when I had left Madball and went back to school, I just kind of resumed being a regular school student. Andrew reached out to me: “Hey, we need somebody coming up quick.”

It was an incredible opportunity that I was really excited about. I thought it was just going to be for a couple shows. But we ended up playing like 40-something songs the first day we got together in a jam room. And they made the decision after that to invite me along for a longer time. 

We were on the road for like nine months. To be able to sink my teeth into something that hardcore was wonderful, and a great challenge. And then of course, as things would happen, it became clear to me that this was also an environment that had darkness that I wasn’t quite … It lost that special thing throughout the end of my time. It’s very difficult to make that decision of, “I don’t think this is someplace that’s the most healthy for me to stay in.” 

I put a pause on school while I was in Against Me! because I thought I could be halfway into both or I could just commit to one. I really wanted to pursue what it was to be a full-time touring musician, knowing full well that I wanted to still accomplish what I had set out to do as a student.

My mom was a history teacher in my early childhood. It was always stressed to me the importance of education. At that same moment, I was recognizing the darkness and some toxicity that started to appear. So I made the decision: “I think this is the right time for me to pump the brakes on this, go back to school.” And that was all that was.

When you left, Laura Jane Grace took to social media and blasted you pretty hard on several occasions. You never really responded.
My whole approach to anything like that is it’s important to me that I keep my side of the street clean. And that’s within my work, within any context of any band, or say in the fallout of my relationship with Against Me! and Laura. I haven’t heard her name in forever. What’s she up to these days?

She’s making music and touring solo.
Okay. So in my view, it was always like anybody in that position can say whatever they want, but I myself know the truth, and I’m comfortable with just maintaining that. I don’t need to dumpster dive for headlines. That’s really just never been how I like to approach my business. I like to maintain professionalism. If someone wants to go in a different direction, that’s on them. That’s nothing I can control.

She basically called you an entitled brat. That couldn’t have been easy to just take.
[Laughs] Sure. I mean, it’s honestly funny to think about … I mean, that was however long ago, 14 years. And to that end, I don’t know. If you’re sitting by your computer refreshing Twitter for 14 years to try and take your former bandmate down a peg, I think that kind of says a lot more about you than it does me.

It must have been an incredible thrill when you landed the Slipknot job.
Yeah. I was 23 years old. Being in the band for 10 years, that’s nearly a third of my life, and the vast majority of my creative life.

In the early years, it was a secret that you were even in the band. They kept your identity masked.
I couldn’t even tell close industry friends. The fine folks who manufacture my drums, I couldn’t tell them why I needed two giant double bass drum sets and all this. I’m like, “You got to just trust me. I’m going to make it worth your while.” 

I understood that dynamic of the band because I remember being a fan back in 2000, pre-camera phones, pre-internet largely. There was this mystique surrounding a band like this, honestly. You couldn’t discover any details about the band members. You couldn’t find out what anybody looked like. You could hardly find out anybody’s actual name.

The mystique was certainly appealing and drew a lot of people in, myself included, at a very young age. To capture that energy of this unknowingness, especially in the era of social media and camera phones, was an impressive endeavor. And we kept a lid on it for like a year.

Is it hard to play drums in a mask?
In a word, yes, it is difficult. But with that said, when you’re playing those songs specifically, it almost kind of grew to a point where it felt weird to play those songs without the mask.

Did you feel like a full member, a hired hand, or something in between?
If you’re the new guy coming into a band that’s existed for 15 years and developed its identity and dynamic, you’re always going to be the new guy. 

I auditioned for the band before the world learned that they were moving on from playing with Joey Jordison. We played together for one day, rehearsed all the old songs, and that was one thing of like, “Okay, he can play the old songs. Now, what can you bring to the creation of things?”

Whether you’re “in the band” or a hired hand, those are just things that put someone in a box that they occupy. I’m comfortable with that. What matters is the work of what you’re doing, the creative endeavors that you’re going on. I recognize my responsibility in helping provide contributions to the creation of a song or album. Those responsibilities fall on me the same way if I’m “in the band” or “not in the band.” It’s all the same work.

My writing partner for my duration of time in the band was largely Jim Root, guitar player. He’d come up with guitar riffs, and I’d provide my contribution and enthusiasm and effort and energy to shape the song going in any direction. That’s what was meaningful to me.

That makes sense.
All that stuff falls away when you do the actual important thing, which is creating things in the studio and playing these things on stage. And I found as our relationship deepened, those efforts and responsibilities became greater for me.

For instance, with The Gray Chapter, our first album together, Jim had 14 songs or something. They were loose sketches of arrangements. I added some things to them, since they asked me to help “Slipknot them up a little.” I’m like, “Those are my marching orders and this is what I’m bringing to the table.”

We then listen back to our work, and we would be like, “So what kind of album do we have here? We’re missing this sort of vibe. Jay and Jim, go into that room. Let’s see what you guys can come up with out of thin air.” 

And it was pretty remarkable because in the space of about two hours, Jim and myself created skeletons of “The Negative One” and “Custer,” both of which got nominated for Grammys and were live staples in our set. For a 23-year-old, that was a dream come true, to be in a co-creating process with one other person and have the efforts result in these songs that we’re proud of.

How did things go on your second record, We Are Not Your Kind?
We had nothing to start with. It’s pure blank canvas. And that was a pretty incredible experience where Jim and I would get together every couple months for about three or four weeks and just hammer out ideas, trying to capture that same lightning in a bottle that we did with “The Negative One” and “Custer.” 

There were other contributions happening at the same time, sure, but that largely created the album. So as I’m kind of illustrating those responsibilities, whatever it was defined how I was with the band or not, who cares? I’m still making the same amount of racket as would be expected of me no matter how you define it.

They let you go in 2023. What happened?
Well, to take that back a little bit, since 2018, I noticed a significant pain in my left hip while exercising. I notified management, “I’m having this thing with my hip. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to monitor it.” It didn’t prevent me from playing, but it was something that I was aware of. I got an MRI early on in 2020, when we’re not touring at all. Everybody’s locked down with Covid.

I got an MRI done and I found out that I have what’s called a femoroacetabular impingement, FAI for short, which basically means I tore my labrum in my hip due to running and kickboxing. I couldn’t run for more than five minutes without then being unable to walk for several days.

So I told my bandmates and management what my doctor told me. At the time I was 30, and he’s like, “Do this when you’re younger. You’ll have a better chance of snapping right back, give it five, six months recovery.”

So I’m approaching the band like, “Hey, we’re not doing anything right now. This would take me six months to recover. Is this something I can do?” And I was asked to not have that corrective surgery because we’ve got a record to make. We got to be on tour, and this and that. So I can’t hold up this operation.

I had been conditioned over years with the ever-present threat of, “You’re always fireable, you’re always replaceable.” With that being reinforced in the environment, it’s difficult to then make decisions based on health because you’re like, “I’m not going to step outside of the bounds of this because I don’t want to disturb the peace and I don’t want to be replaced.”

A couple of years go on and the pain luckily wasn’t made worse by touring and playing, but it certainly didn’t get better. And so in September of 2023, I had seen in our schedule that we had shows going up until November, and then our subsequent show after that was in April of the following year. I came up with a plan where I would have this surgery in November of 2023, pretty much right after the last show of that year.

I’d expressed to the band, “We’ve got this window of time. I will be able to recover before the next show. If we want to be creative in that time, I worked with a company called MixWave, where I created a virtual instrument so that I could have my own drum sounds available to me. If I’m on crutches and I can’t walk, I can’t drum, I can still program things and be in a creative mode,” just to cover all my bases and got it approved. They were like, “Yeah, good to go. Go for your surgery.”

And then I woke up the morning after traveling home from our last show together, and I received a phone call from the band’s manager in which he informed me that the band had made a decision to not renew my contract at the end of the year. I was shocked and full of questions. I was like, “Why? What happened?”

It took place, to be quite honest, at the end of a year that was a very difficult year within the band. That might relate to some of those preexisting tensions before I arrived at the band, sort of coming back. But I’m left with no explanation, just that “It’s a creative decision and you’re no longer the drummer in Slipknot.” And what he said from there was, “We would like to release a joint statement with you tomorrow. Take the rest of the day to think about it. I’ll be available to you for the rest of the day if you want to talk.”

My world just kind of bottomed out from under me. This thing that I have been dedicated to with complete focus and drive and attention and love and holding on to a dream, despite the difficulties, despite all the things that happen with entering a volatile environment like that and a dark environment at that, to having nothing but questions. So I went on a walk with my wife to clear my head and process what had just happened. And then 20 minutes later, they posted their own statement online.

How did you feel about that?
I mean, how would anybody feel about that? It perfectly encapsulates the confusion of that. And like I said, it came after an extraordinarily tense year for the band, things that I could only see as an outsider in relationships that are 25 years deep. It came without an explanation, no reason. It was confusing then. If I’m perfectly honest, it remains confusing.

As a newcomer, I think being caught in between those preexisting tensions, you find yourself trying to navigate that the best you can. One guy has one way he wants things done, another guy wants another way he wants things done, and amplify that by eight other people, to try to satisfy all of those things. This was my singular focus for 10 years. I applied myself in every way possible. As a newcomer, and like you mentioned, you’re like, “Are you in the band? Are you not in the band?” How do you define that after 10 years? It’s not a short amount of time. But it’s easy for a newcomer, for myself, to be caught in the crossfire there. Maybe I became a scapegoat for certain things. 

Processing it over the last two years, I’ve wanted to take that experience and obviously learn from it. I want to experience these new things that I’m now taking on, these many collaborations that I’m doing, playing with as many people as possible, and finding these relationships where it’s all so new to me. I’m going into creative environments, say a studio or playing live, where there is love for one another, and respect for one another, in ways that I’ve never experienced before. 

There’s a great band you might be familiar with, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. I’ve become friends with those guys over the last year and a half. Their drummer Cavs came to a show that I played with Infectious Grooves. These guys opened my eyes to what a positive creative environment could feel like with mutual respect. It’s like finding water in the desert. All these new relationships that I’ve formed over the last two years or so feel like that, certainly Suicidal Tendencies falls within that category.

That’s great to hear.
Obviously the departure from Slipknot was difficult.  It puts the period on the end of a sentence that takes up a third of my life. But it’s never been in my nature … Like you said, “How do you stay quiet when this person’s talking trash on you on the internet?” I’ve never wanted to be somebody who throws a pity party for themselves. I don’t think that’s what a creative person’s life is.

Tell me about these new songs you put online, “Drone Operator” and “Sandstone.”
After being spat out of one project that I was solely focused on for 10 years, I had a lot of energy that I wanted to harness for myself. And touring, you meet people, creative folks who you share a kinship with. There’s always the conversation of, “Oh yeah, we got to start a band, man. We got to start a side project,” or whatever. By and large, that never really materializes, but it’s exciting to have those discussions with like-minded people.

But I’m saving all these things that I write, that I bring to a stage of completion, as much as I can. I’m not a vocalist, but I’ll contribute vocals to these things that I’m doing, and lyrics as well. Then I go, “Hey, my friend George Clarke from Deafheaven, I think your voice would be really fantastic on this song. Do you want to lend your voice and your lyrics and your energy to this?” 

I went into a studio with George, not really sure what the experience would be. It was my first song, the very first song that I released in this project that’s the first time I’m ever releasing music under my own name. I hesitate calling it a solo project because it’s not. It’s a “collaborative community project” is how I prefer it because I’m not going to be out there starting the Jay Weinberg solo band.

George nails this song in one take, and it lit me up creatively because here’s this thing that I’ve been working on in isolation, where I’m playing the guitar, I’m playing the drums, I’m playing the bass, and now my friend just brought it across the finish line. So, who are the other people in my creative circle who I want to do similar things with? That leads me to working with Nowhere to Run, which features members of the band Code Orange, who I’ve spent considerable amount of time on the road with.

We did a song that we now just released. It’s allowing me to kind of reset, refresh, and cleanse my mental state, having come out on the other side of something very difficult, and now celebrate it with creating some beautiful music with amazing friends. I anticipate that this will be a full album that I’m looking to release in October or so.

Moving on, did you pay much attention to Drummergeddon last year when an absurd amount of famous bands lost their drummers or even traded drummers?
Drummergeddon? That’s the first time I’ve heard of something called that. I don’t have any concrete thoughts to offer on that. I mean, bands are complex creatures, and so the fact that these things happen, I don’t know. I’m not a part of any of those things happening, unless I’m swept up into Drummergeddon myself. Maybe I’m too close within Drummergeddon to see it.

Did you watch Rush play their first performance with their new drummer, Anika Nilles?
I haven’t checked it out, but she’s so fantastic. I’ve been meaning to watch it. I applaud Alex and Geddy for choosing such a fantastic player in Anika, and I’m excited to watch and see where they go from there. I feel like they have a beautiful way of remembering their friend and bandmate, Neil Peart, and treating his legacy with respect and love and honor. And I think Anika has, and will certainly approach that beautifully.

Are you on the E Street reserve bench? If your dad can’t play a show for whatever reason, if his shoulder gets hurt or something, do you think that you’d fly in?
It’s so funny you say that. I love that way of describing it, the “E Street reserve bench.” It runs deep. You got Tom Morello coming off the bench. “Put me in coach. Let’s go on this tour.” I love that. I got goosebumps thinking about that. Yeah, look, when the Boss says jump, you say how high. It’s as simple as that.

Do you think you could just parachute in and play a show without any rehearsal if the need came up?
Tall order. I’ll answer this question like this: I know in my heart of hearts that there is the mental dynamic between Bruce and my own father that cannot be replicated by anybody. I don’t care who you are, just can’t be done. They’ve been doing this for 52 years. That’s insane. I was at the first show in Minneapolis the other night..and what an amazing night, what an incredible choice of songs. It speaks very much to the things that I love about the band. I love “The Ghost of Tom Joad.” I love “American Skin.” I love starting with “War.”

As a fan and a drummer, you just kind of feel that excitement. I’ll tell you this, I’ll give it my best shot. If it ever comes to that…I hope there’s no reason that my dad wouldn’t be playing a show. But I think as someone who has a tremendous amount of love and studies that band…it means a lot to me. I would give it my best shot.

I often look at your dad at the end of the night and think, “How is this guy still standing after playing all night at that level?” It’s especially crazy since he’ll be 75 in a few days.
My dad and I don’t talk about drums. We don’t really trade tips and tricks. We don’t have that relationship to our music, but the things that we talk about are musical discipline and work ethic and focus. And you can see as an audience member, the focus that’s there. I’ve always been very inspired by that. But yeah, to see them at age 75 doing this, playing for three hours, I mean, it’s inhuman. They’re truly entering uncharted waters.

I think of when my grandfather was 75. The thought of him and his friends getting up there and playing “Badlands” would have just been absurd.
It’s nuts. I very much respect it. I’m in awe of it. I try not to be morbid or whatever, but just as a human, I want to see as much of this tour as I possibly can because I want to get every drop of inspiration and time with my family, my dad, the E Street Band. I want to spend as much time absorbing that. Even on the surface level, just enjoying shows, but on the deeper level, so this is so woven into my DNA.

This tour was very unplanned. It came together at the very last second. We had been to their last show of their several-year tour last year in Italy. I didn’t know when their next show was going to be and life gets complicated and difficult and we schedule things and significant moments pass us by. 

I’ll be going to a couple shows as my schedule allows to just absorb it. My wife and I want to check it out. Our daughter will arrive shortly after the tour. So I’m hopeful that there are more shows down the line so that our daughter can see her grandfather doing this.

I don’t see why that wouldn’t happen.
I mean, hey, no one’s stopping him. And it is a joy to be able to share the experience, watch as a fan, and then go to the hotel bar with my father and sit down and talk about what a great night that was. I try to soak up every aspect of that dynamic because myself now having been on a journey of rock & roll, tumult as it is, we have many things that we never thought we would have in common.

We cut the bullshit. There’s no sugarcoating what this creative life is because it has its challenges, but I think the challenge is to ask, “How much does this mean to you?”