Ferocious Dog

As Ferocious Dog prepare to call it a day at the end of the year, the band are taking their farewell on the road with the aptly titled "The End Is Nigh" tour. Ahead of the final chapter, I meet frontman Ken Bonsall at London's O2 Academy Islington to look back on the story of a band that has always been about far more than music.

There is humour, but also grief, honesty and the kind of lived experience that has always given Ferocious Dog their distinctive voice. We talk about the band's unlikely beginnings, the people who shaped its music, the Hellhounds community and what it means to walk away from something that has become part of so many lives - including Ken's own.

Can you take us back to 1988? How did it all begin?
Ken: My son Daniel started playing violin at school when he was about eight years old. He was just naturally gifted. He played classical music and excelled straight away. We didn't even realise how good he was because he only practised at school. Then one day we went to watch a school performance. All the other children played things like "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Three Blind Mice". Then they announced that Daniel was going to play Vivaldi's Four Seasons. My wife and I looked at each other, thinking, "What?" And he played it flawlessly. We were amazed.

I started playing him songs by The Pogues, The Levellers and traditional Irish musicians. He would listen once and play them straight away. He had a natural perfect pitch. I thought, this little lad is a genius!

That inspired me to learn guitar and sing. I was brought up on Irish folk songs and loved The Pogues, and I was also listening to The Levellers, who were emerging in the late eighties and early nineties. I watched local Irish bands around Nottingham and wanted to do something similar.

What was your first proper gig, and what do you remember about it?
Ken: A good friend of mine from the coal mine, Pete Shields, was in a band. He knew we were starting to play music and asked whether we wanted to support them in the next village, Woodhouse. Then he invited us to take part in a charity fundraiser for children's cancer.

We played at the Pink Flamingo in Forest Town, Mansfield. It must have been around 1992. I still have a video of it. We were just a three-piece: myself, Daniel on violin and Ian Wagstaff on the bodhrán. We played Pogues songs, Levellers songs and traditional Irish music.

We didn't actually have a band name. We were just friends getting together to play. But my youngest son, Lee, was standing outside holding my hand. When he was little, I used to growl at him and ask, "What's this then, son?" I'd make the same noise every time, and he'd shout, "A ferocious dog, Daddy!"

People loved it. He was only a toddler, and they would ask him to do it again. It became a little joke between us.

When the local newspaper asked for the band's name, I said we hadn't really got one. I looked down at Lee, smiled, and he said it again. So I told them: "Ferocious Dog."

That was never meant to be the actual name. It was just a joke for the newspaper. But as time went on, we started getting more gigs, supporting other bands and playing our own shows. I thought about changing it to something like Celtic Dog, but I never came up with anything better. So it stayed Ferocious Dog.

It's one of the nicest stories behind a band name I've ever heard.
Ken: And I'm so glad we kept it. Now that Lee is no longer here, there's an even stronger connection. He named the band, really, from such an early age. It's a lovely memory.

If you're comfortable talking about it, how did John Newbury's death affect you and the band?
Ken: It was really hard because he was a very good friend. We knew he was troubled. In the period leading up to his death, we were already keeping an eye on him. We'd take it in turns to check on him because we knew he was struggling mentally. He had started saying things that made us realise something wasn't right, and he'd previously tried to take his own life.

You couldn't make it up, but we couldn't be there twenty-four hours a day. The worst thing was that he was the nicest bloke you could ever meet. And as a drummer, he was absolutely perfect. He lived for drums. That was his whole life.

He was sorely missed when he took his own life. I wrote him into a song as well. It's Criminal Justice. If you listen to the second verse, there's the line about John Newbury being a travelling man with no fixed abode. I wanted to give a nod to our drummer.

Things like that have been part of Ferocious Dog for a long time. We've had to come to terms with losing people and with the impact of suicide.

Your first full-length album came out in 2013, many years after the band began. Why did it take so long?
Ken: When you first start a band, you're scraping everything together. You've got no money. You're a bunch of lads trying to play music in local bars, setting up your own PA and borrowing microphones and equipment. You don't go straight into proper music venues. You know somebody with a PA, somebody else has microphone stands, and that's how you get started.

If you went out and got paid £100, you thought, "Wow! They're actually paying us to play!" Most of that money probably went on beer. You were just enjoying life and learning your trade.

Eventually, we started putting some of the money aside in a bank account for Ferocious Dog. We wanted to buy equipment and record music. We would save enough to go into a cheap local studio and record perhaps five songs in a day. Then we'd wait until we'd earned enough to do it again.

Our first album was basically two EPs put together. That's all we could afford at the time. The recordings were raw, but I still love that album. It captures where we came from.

I love it because you can really hear that rawness. It's not polished, but it's real.
Ken: Exactly. The second album was a different experience. Daniel had taken over the band, and we knew the first album was strong in terms of songs. We had to think about how to follow it.

Dan suggested going to a proper recording studio. We eventually spent around £21,000 to £23,000 recording at Vada Studios near Stratford-upon-Avon. They had worked with bands like Stereophonics and The Wonder Stuff, and we worked with John Terry.

We were still an unsigned band, and all that money came from us. We worked incredibly hard to save it. We spent a full week recording and then returned later to finish things off.

Looking back, we were still making things up as we went along. I was even writing songs while we were in the studio, and some of them hadn't been properly rehearsed. The songs have changed over the years as different musicians have brought their own ideas to them. I always tell new members: make the song your own. You don't have to play it exactly as it was recorded.

I love the first album for its rawness, though. That's part of what makes it Ferocious Dog.

People sometimes compare you with The Levellers. How do you see that connection?
Ken: People often say we're a poor man's Levellers. But we're not The Levellers. Of course, they're a huge influence on me. They were one of the reasons I wanted to make this kind of music in the first place. I love the fiddle-based sound, and we were lucky to have Daniel as a fiddler.

But there are differences. I'm a socialist, not an anarchist. I come from a mining background, and I've been active in unions, including supporting firefighters. I've been on picket lines and experienced working-class struggle. That has always influenced what I write about.

The Levellers have their own approach to injustice and politics. We come from slightly different places, even though there's a lot of mutual respect. Mark and I still fall out over politics whenever we meet, but we agree to disagree!

I remember Jon Sevink saying that Dan was probably the best fiddler he'd ever played with. When we toured together, they even had a fiddle-off during What You Know. It just got faster and faster. I knew Daniel had another three years of speed left in him!

You also have a reputation for playing incredibly fast.
Ken: That's still true. Even on this farewell tour, the songs are stupidly fast. Sometimes we joke that if we play them faster, we can fit more songs into the set!

You supported Mark Chadwick on a solo show before joining The Levellers for their full tour. Do you remember that first experience?
Ken: Absolutely. The first time we played with Mark was at a local venue owned by our bass player. We knew each other already, and it was brilliant to get the chance to support him. These were our idols. I'd grown up singing Levellers songs, so it was a dream.

I suggested to Mark that we leave all our Levellers covers out of our support set. Then, at the end, we could come back on as his backing band and play those songs together. He loved the idea.

Afterwards, Mark said, "I've never played my songs that fast!" I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Welcome to Ferocious Dog, Mark!"

In 2016, we were invited to join The Levellers on their UK and European tour. It was our first proper tour with another band, and it was a massive opportunity. A lot of Levellers fans had never seen us before.

Their management had booked us because they knew exactly what they would get: a hundred miles an hour, full commitment from beginning to end. We also brought Gaz Brookfield along. We gave up some of our set time so he could join the tour, even though he wasn't being paid.

There was a lot of talk on social media about whether Ferocious Dog would blow The Levellers off stage. I always said, "Hold on, these are my idols you're talking about." I wanted people to understand how good The Levellers are.

And they were magnificent every night. I like to think that having us on the bill pushed everybody to give their absolute best. That tour remains one of the highlights of my time with Ferocious Dog.

Your songwriting often draws on history and social issues. Where do the ideas for songs come from?
Ken: Sometimes I start with a tune. I'll hear a traditional Irish melody or a particular riff and think, that's got something. Then I want to find a story that fits it.

Slayed the Traveller, for example, came from an idea inspired by Nick Burbridge of McDermott's Two Hours. He wrote a song called Move on, Malloy, which I love. It's about the troubles in Ireland following people wherever they go, and about Irish travellers being constantly moved on.

They arrive somewhere, try to settle down, and people want them gone. Sometimes they have to fight their way out of terrible situations. I wanted to write my own version of that story.

Another example is Quiet Paddy. That was inspired by The Pogues' Young Ned of the Hill, one of my favourite songs. I love the atmosphere it creates. It made me think about villages being burnt out, people being driven from their homes, and the atrocities committed in Ireland.

I wanted to turn that idea around and write about a group of people who fight back against overwhelming odds and defeat the army. That's where Quiet Paddy came from. I actually wrote it while travelling around Connemara in Ireland.

And what about Ruby Bridges?
Ken: That started as a song by Daniel. He wrote the opening about Ruby Bridges, the young Black girl who became known for integrating an all-white school in the United States. Daniel had the idea of a little boy sitting in a classroom with her, unable to understand why everybody else refused to accept her because of the colour of her skin.

He never finished the song, so I completed it. The later verses move further into the civil rights movement. That's how we often worked together. Dan might come up with a brilliant riff or the beginning of a song, and I'd finish the story.

The line-up has changed several times over the years. How difficult is it to find musicians who can do justice to the material, particularly the violin parts?
Ken: We've been blessed with amazing musicians. You need somebody on violin who can play what Daniel originally recorded, but also bring something of their own to it.

When Dan left, I had to write all the songs for Kleptocracy. I locked myself away in my bar in the garden for two months and just wrote and wrote until I had thirteen songs. It was a completely different experience.

The musicians we have now are phenomenal. Luke on drums is like a human drum machine. We've always been lucky with our drummers. Kyle came back after playing with his own band, The Outlines, and I was so pleased because his punk attitude fits Ferocious Dog perfectly.

We were also lucky to get Les Carter from Carter USM on electric guitar. He's an amazing musician and has exactly the right punk spirit. Nick on bass is another brilliant player. And Sam is world-class on fiddle. He's incredibly fast and seems to be able to play anything.

I've always said Sam could be the son of Aly Bain. You don't just wake up one morning and decide to play the banjo. The banjo picks you! We had that kind of musical talent with Johnny Leonard, too. He could pick up an accordion, penny whistle, banjo or mandolin and play it beautifully.

Johnny Edwards was also absolutely pivotal in the making of The Hope. People don't always realise how much he contributed. He came up with the guitar part for 1914 and the idea behind the song.

Halfway through recording that album, Daniel walked out. There was pressure, as there always is when you're making a record. We knew he'd probably come back, but we couldn't just stop working. Johnny and I carried on writing and rehearsing, trying new things and developing songs. When Dan returned, we hadn't lost any momentum.

When you listen to The Hope, you hear what a fantastic piece of work it is. But a lot of the credit for the music should also go to Johnny Edwards. He was an incredible talent.

I actually spent three hours with Johnny during the making of The Hope. He played me some of the recordings, and it was amazing to hear how the songs developed.
Ken: Yes, you can really hear where they came from. Johnny was brilliant.

When did the Hellhounds become more than a fanbase and turn into a real community?
Ken: I think it started very early. I remember playing in Brighton at The Haunt, a lovely grassroots venue. Jeremy Cunningham from The Levellers and Nick Burbridge from McDermott's Two Hours came to watch us. We couldn't believe they had taken the time to come along.

I remember seeing Jeremy dancing near the merchandise stand, his dreadlocks flying everywhere. Afterwards, he told me we had something special with the Hellhounds.

I didn't really understand what he meant. I told him it was similar to what we'd had with The Levellers years before: people looking after each other, travelling together, hitchhiking to gigs and meeting up at shows. It was that sense of belonging.

But Jeremy said there was something more. He told me it was because of how I treated people. He had watched me on tour and noticed that I always made time for fans. Whether somebody wanted a photograph, an autograph or just a chat, I would try to make it happen.

He said they had expected that to change as the band became more successful. At the beginning, everybody is friendly, but after a long tour people sometimes get tired of being approached. He said I'd never changed. Even at festivals, when I couldn't walk anywhere without somebody wanting a photo, I still took the time.

I'll never forget those words.

Over the years, I've come to understand what he meant. I think it's also about being open about who you are and what you've been through. I've had my own struggles. I've spoken openly about nearly taking my own life and about getting help. I'm proud that I can stand on stage and talk about that.

People sometimes expect somebody who's worked thirty years down a coal mine, has a big mohawk and has been boxing to be tough all the time. But you can be strong and still be vulnerable. You can cry on stage when something moves you. I don't see any shame in that.

I think people recognise that honesty, both in what I say and in the songs I write. But it's not just about me. The band brings something, and the people who follow us create something of their own. For many of them, the Hellhounds are a family. They know they're not alone.

We've always said that if you come to a Ferocious Dog show, you're part of that family.

And the Hellhounds look after each other, too.
Ken: Absolutely. The core group have always been the salt of the earth. In the mosh pit, if somebody behaves like an idiot, the Hellhounds will tell them that's not acceptable.

We also take responsibility ourselves. If a fight starts, we stop playing. We could carry on and let security deal with it, but that's not how we see it. We don't want somebody to leave a Ferocious Dog show feeling unsafe or deciding never to go to a live music venue again.

We stop the music, tell people to shake hands or move apart, and make it clear that we won't accept that behaviour. The same goes for harassment. If we see somebody groping a woman or behaving inappropriately, we'll call it out and get security involved.

We want everybody to feel welcome, whether they've been to every show we've ever played or whether it's their first one. You're a Hellhound either way. There's no initiation. You don't need a tattoo, and nobody's going to drag you over the Brecon Beacons and waterboard you before you're allowed in!

During the pandemic, your Thursday lockdown sessions became important to a lot of people. They certainly helped me through a difficult time.
Ken: The Thursday sessions! Sing-along with Red Ken!

You wouldn't believe how many people have come up to me and said, "Thank you for the lockdown sessions. They saved me." And I always say, "They saved me, too!"

I looked forward to every Thursday. I had to think about what songs to play. Should it be traditional songs, Levellers songs, Pogues songs? You can't just sing the same things every week, so sometimes I'd throw myself in at the deep end and learn a song from the internet that very day.

I was reading the lyrics, making mistakes and having a laugh. At one point, I couldn't even get hold of a capo because all my equipment was in storage. So I used a G-clamp instead!

Those little things became part of the folklore of the lockdown sessions. But honestly, they gave me something to look forward to as well. Knowing that people were waiting for Thursday made a real difference.

When did ending Ferocious Dog first become a serious conversation?
Ken: About seven years ago. And it's not my wife's fault! But I had promised her that I would retire.

We've been foster carers for many years. One of the young lads who lived with us from a very young age, Dylan, stayed with us until he went to college and then university in London. Once he turned eighteen, he was no longer legally a foster child. That was always going to be the point at which we started thinking about retirement.

I couldn't just announce it overnight. I had to give the band notice, and I told them two years ago that I would be finishing now.

I've always lived in Warsop, a mining village in Nottinghamshire, but my wife and I have moved to a quieter place in the countryside. I think it's time to take a step back from constant touring.

I've spent thirty years working in a coal mine and another thirty years making music. If I live another twenty years and reach eighty, I'll have done very well!

When I'm away touring, my wife is at home looking after the children and the dogs. She's stood by me all those years. Touring is a strange life, and the music industry can involve a lot of drinking and partying. You have to remember that your partner is at home trusting you.

My wife once said, "You'll never do it, Ken. Ferocious Dog is too much part of your life. You can't walk away." I told her I would. And here we are.

What are your plans for life after Ferocious Dog? I can't imagine you simply putting your guitar away.
Ken: There will definitely be something happening, but nothing on the scale of Ferocious Dog. The constant touring is what I want to leave behind.

It's not fair on the other lads to keep doing just a few shows here and there. This is their livelihood, and they're brilliant musicians. They deserve to go out and find other bands and opportunities.

I'll still make music, but I won't be constantly on the road. Maybe I'll do a solo show once a month, or something with friends. Perhaps "Ken with Friends"! I'd like to go back to my roots and play folk music, the way we started as a three-piece all those years ago.

Who knows? Watch this space.

What will you miss most about life on the road?
Ken: The rubbish food and living in green rooms? People think touring is glamorous, but it's exhausting. By the end of a tour, we're all absolutely shattered.

But the shows themselves are something else. Every night is pure adrenaline. I've never taken drugs, so I don't know anything about that world. For me, the adrenaline comes when I walk onto the stage.

You can be ill, have a cold or feel terrible halfway through a tour, but once you're five minutes away from going on, something switches on. Suddenly I'm jumping around like a lunatic.

I can't just stand there and go through the motions. That's not Ferocious Dog. We give everything every night. I'll miss that feeling, and I'll miss seeing the Hellhounds at the front of the stage.

Do you feel like a different person on stage compared with who you are off stage?
Ken: Probably, yes. But I've always been somebody who doesn't care too much about what people think. I'll breakdance if I feel like it. I don't mind people laughing at me. If two thousand people at Rock City laugh because I've done something stupid, that's fine. They're laughing with me because I'm laughing too.

If I make a mistake or mess up a song, I'll laugh about it. I think you've got to have that attitude as a frontman. You can't worry about looking silly. You have to enjoy yourself.

What's something you're proud of that would never make it into a press release or a chart history?
Ken: One of the proudest moments was when The Hope reached number ten in the album charts, only to be knocked down to number eleven by Adele!

She came straight in at number ten and pushed us down. I mean, we can't compete with Adele, can we? She's got millions behind her, with all the promotion and everything else.

But for a little band from Nottinghamshire to get that high in the charts, punching well above our weight, was incredible. And the fact that Adele herself knocked us down a place? I'll take that all day!

Finish this sentence in your own words: "Ferocious Dog mattered because…"
Ken: Because it matters to a lot of people.

When you see people at the front crying because we're playing these songs for the last time, you understand what it means. Tonight, when we play Slow Motion Suicide, I'll say, "Shall we do it for one last time?" And you can see what that means to people.

It's not just about the band. It's about being part of something bigger. People meet at our shows, form friendships and travel together. Someone might live in Europe, come over to see us, go home and then meet the same people again at another show months later.

That's what makes the Hellhounds so amazing. The band brings people together, but the community belongs to them.

For me, it's also a feeling of loss. Over the last few years, I've met so many people through Ferocious Dog and the Hellhounds. I've seen so much of the country travelling to shows. The Devil's Arse, for example, is unforgettable.
Ken: The Devil's Arse! That's one of those places you have to experience in your lifetime. Watching a live band there, especially a band you love, is something completely different. It's better than almost anywhere else. Different gravy!

Is there anything about the band's history that interviewers rarely ask you, but that you wish they would?
Ken: I think we've covered just about everything over the years, even what cheese we like!

But one thing that sometimes bothers me is that interviews always end up being about Ken. Ken talking, Ken answering, Ken telling the story. I started the band, I was there from the beginning, and I write many of the songs, so I understand why it happens.

But it can exclude the other musicians. I'd love interviewers to ask them more questions, too. They have their own experiences and perspectives, and they've all contributed to what Ferocious Dog has become.

I've always wanted the band to work as a team. I have no more say than any other member. I want everybody's ideas. It's not just about the six musicians, either. The merchandise team, the technicians and the sound engineers are all part of it.

I don't want people simply turning up and doing what they're told. That's never been how Ferocious Dog works. We're all in this together.

I understand that. But you are also the history of the band. The line-up has changed, but you've always been the constant.
Ken: Yes, I understand that. But I still think it's important that the other members get their chance to speak and tell their stories. They deserve that.

Thank you, Ken. It's always a pleasure to spend time with you.
Ken: Thank you very much. It's been amazing. Cheers for spending time with me.

Read the full interview here.