After wreaking havoc and dishing out dissonance since 1981 — evolving from its early synth-pop dance roots into the industrial thrash metal chaos it’s best known for — Ministry’s band leader Al Jourgensen is finally ready to call it quits. He’s preparing to put an end to the band’s relentless run of recording and touring — this time for good. But not before one last album and a final world tour, as “Uncle Al” prepares to bring the band’s legendary career to a close.
Speaking on the phone from a tour stop in Canada, he discussed Ministry’s current Squirrely Years Tour — a special run of shows that focuses exclusively on the band’s first two albums, “With Sympathy” and “Twitch.” For the first time in decades, Jourgensen is performing early songs — largely steeped in synth-pop — which he once dismissed, now embracing the full arc of his career. The frontman opened up about reuniting with longtime collaborator Paul Barker, the band’s final album, his disdain for violent mosh pits, and why he never read his autobiography.
When did you decide to bring Ministry to an end? Was it a process or something more abrupt?
Oh, it was a process. After 17 albums, I feel like we’ve pushed the boundaries as far as we could go with this band. I know I’ve got one more album left in me that’ll stretch those limits even further. But I don’t want to end up like one of those bands doing the same riffs for 40 or 50 years — it just gets old. This has been coming for a while. It’s not tied to my past health issues; it’s just time. After our final album comes out next year, we’re doing one last world tour. Then that’s it. I’m done. Time to let the kids take over.
So you’re stepping away from Ministry — but are you stepping away from music entirely?
Not entirely. I’ll still do film scores. I just did one for a documentary called “Long Knife,” about the Koch brothers ripping off the Osage Nation. It’s kind of a follow-up to “Killers of the Flower Moon.” That kind of work still interests me. But being on a tour bus and constantly talking to people? I’m over that.
How’s your health now?
I feel great. It’s a gift to go out in good health and a clear frame of mind. At one point in the early 2000s, I didn’t think I’d ever tour again. I had a ruptured artery in my stomach and was bleeding every day on the road. I just said, “Nope, this isn’t worth it.” But now we’re wrapping everything up intentionally — bringing back people like Paul Barker, recording in old places, ending things right.
You’ve said before that you hate mosh pits. What’s the energy like on this tour, especially with the older material?
Man, this tour is a psychedelic freakout. We’re playing 40-plus-year-old songs, and somehow there’s still a little bit of moshing happening — but not violent. It’s cracking me up. These shows feel like a one-off trip into the past. People are just dancing and enjoying the moment. It’s more like a weird, dark, electronic hippie dance party. I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much.
Is it a different mindset performing the early material versus the heavier Ministry songs?
Oh, hell yeah. But the fans know what they’re getting into. Nobody’s screaming for the ’90s metal stuff. It feels like stepping into a hot tub time machine. We’ve put real work into this setlist, and it’s paid off. I’m genuinely enjoying it.
Will your final tour represent the full scope of Ministry’s career?
Absolutely. It’ll be a two- to three-hour career retrospective. We’ll be covering every era — all 17 albums. We might even bring back two drummers like we did in the ’80s. The final tour won’t just be a greatest hits set — it’ll be a curated journey, and maybe even feature some old friends.
You’ve been open about your battles with addiction. How did that shape you?
Like everyone, I’ve evolved. Twenty years ago, I was a different person. Now people call me “Uncle Al,” and I like that. I’ve been through enough that fewer things bother me. And the things that do matter? I’m more focused on them than ever. I’m grateful for all of it, even the madness — it brought me to where I am now.
“These shows feel like a one-off trip into the past,” Jourgensen says of the band’s final performances. “People are just dancing and enjoying the moment. It’s more like a weird, dark, electronic hippie dance party. I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much.”
(Derick Smith)
Did music help you survive those darker times — or did it make them worse?
Both. Some days, it saved me. Other days, being in the music business made me want to blow my head off. It’s a double-edged sword.
Ministry has always taken on injustice. Are you still fighting the good fight?
That’s the irony of this tour. With everything going on in the world, this felt like the right time to step back and let people remember what joy felt like. That said, the next album will be laser-focused. I haven’t stopped speaking out — if anything, I’ve sharpened my aim.
Is it true you never read your autobiography, “Ministry: The Lost Gospels of Al Jourgensen?”
Never read it. I didn’t even write it. I told stories to a Rolling Stone writer over a gallon of vodka, and their legal team cleaned it up. They handed it back to me as a finished book. The first interview I did about it, they asked, “Did you read it?” I said, “Why should I?” Same thing with watching concert footage — I lived it. Why relive it?
Do you think Wax Trax! Records and the early Midwest scene are overlooked in Ministry’s legacy.
Sometimes, yeah. But real musicians know how important that era was. Wax Trax! was its ecosystem. It’s wild now seeing 14- to 18-year-old goth kids in the front row, right next to 50- and 60-year-olds who were there back in the day. That’s the reward.
What does the very final chapter of Ministry look like?
The new record will be done by Christmas and out by June 2026. Then we’ll hit the road for one last world tour starting next September. Every continent except Antarctica. One year. One final ride. Then it’s over. And I’m good with that.
Ministry’s Squirrely Years Tour stops at the Hollywood Palladium on June 4, with support from Nitzer Ebb, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, and Die Krupps.
This story originally appeared on LA Times
