In the 1980s, Greg Fulton pioneered the thrash metal scene in Chicago. He was a founding member of Znowhite, which reorganized as Cyclone Temple in 1989. The band gained momentum that quickly fizzled when Sony bought Relativity Records and dropped the Combat label repping Cyclone Temple.
By 1995, the band was done. Fulton made one more go of it, forming Rebels Without Applause with bassist Scott Shafer and drummer Tony Heath (Fulton’s brother) plus guitarist Mark Alano. RWA toured central Illinois frequently and put out a couple albums, but the band never really took off and Fulton hung up his guitar.
“I just got tired,” he said. “I got tired of that whole attitude.”
Fulton still listens to metal and hard rock, but his musical tastes have always been eclectic. You can hear it in old Rebels Without Applause tracks, which has hints of funk and soul underneath.
“I’m a pretty old guy, so I can rock out to Fleetwood Mac, the Beatles, the Eagles, Kiss — I love it all,” he said.
Now, Fulton can have it all. As frontman for Sweet Diezel Jenkins — Fulton’s fourth and presumably last band — he makes mashups, blending songs across time and genre like live band DJ.
As Diezel, Fulton’s music career is having a bit of a moment. The band opens for Flo Rida and Ludacris Sept. 29 at the Corn Crib.
A few years after exiting the music industry, a Chicago promoter asked if he’d considered playing covers. At first, he railed against the idea, having spent his career writing original music. After floating a reggae remix of Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle” to friends and acquaintances, he was sold on the idea.
“I’m not selling out; I’m buying in,” he said.
Something for everyone
Diezel looks for overlaps in chord structures and tempos, but each mashup is meant to surprise people. Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” with Warren G’s “Regulate.” James Brown’s “Sex Machine” with “It’s Getting Hot in Here” by Nelly. “No Diggity” with “California Love.”
“It is very intentional,” Fulton said. “Because I grew up listening to AC/DC just like listening to Motown, I didn’t see anything weird about that. I didn’t see anything weird about listening to Slayer and N.W.A. I didn’t have that issue. I didn’t have that racial thing. I didn’t have any of that. It was all music to me.”
As one of a small handful of Black metalheads in the industry at the time, Fulton said part of the burnout was related to continually having to prove himself.
“When you’re young, you can take a hit and keep moving because you have the resilience of your youth and/or your naivete. As you get older, you start to see the calculated ugliness of people.”
The new concept is intended to bring people together—and it’s working. Sweet Diezel Jenkins is busy, in part, because there is something for everyone.
“I just want it to be refreshing,” Fulton said, finding joy — and steady income — playing songs everyone can sing along to.
“Success is not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing,” he said. “Now that I’m getting up in age a little bit, it’s still nice that we can rock a young crowd effortlessly. It’s almost like a rebirth.”
Sweet Diezel Jenkins opens for Flo Rida and Ludacris Friday, Sept. 29, at the Corn Crib, 1000 W. Raab Rd., Normal. Tickets are $59-$109 at cornbeltersbaseball.com.
