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Looking at the raw transcripts from this May 8, 2018 conversation with Nuno Bettencourt feels like unearthing a time capsule. It was a moment when the promise of a new Extreme album was a perennial talking point, a horizon that seemed to perpetually recede. The band was touring, celebrating its legacy, but the question of new material hung in the air, thick with eight years of anticipation since 2008’s Saudades de Rock.
When asked about the rumoured new music, Bettencourt’s response was a masterclass in road-weary humour and frustrating honesty. "Look, there's been new music coming for eight years now," he says, a line that lands with even more weight in retrospect, given the album Six wouldn't see the light of day until 2023. "The good news is there's been new music for eight years. We just haven't released it."
This wasn't just a delay. It was a symptom of a band grappling with its own shadow. Bettencourt hinted at a creative process that bordered on self-sabotage, a cycle of writing and rewriting. "We should already have three out by now, but we keep reinventing ourselves before we put it out," he explains. It’s the classic dilemma for a legacy act: honour the past or burn it down? For Extreme, it was a state of suspended animation.
But Nuno did offer a tantalizing glimpse into the sonic direction, a clue that proved accurate five years later. He described the new material as "definitely a bit more aggressive than we've done in the past." And while he acknowledged the band’s core identity would remain, that aggression became the defining characteristic of Six. It was a sign that the funk-metal fire still burned, even if the band was taking its sweet time stoking the flames.
The conversation inevitably turned to the past, specifically the thirtieth anniversary of their 1989 self-titled debut. Bettencourt’s initial confusion between that record and its monolithic successor, Extreme II: Pornograffitti, was telling. "A lot of people tell us they think that's our first album," he admits, a testament to how completely Pornograffitti and its acoustic mega-hit “More Than Words” defined and dominated their public perception.
Re-centring on the actual debut, Nuno’s memories crystallize around the grit of their early days. He recalls the grind of building a following, particularly in Canada. "I do remember a lot about Canada with that album," he says. "I know we played some clubs, some underground clubs, some really cool spots in Canada while we were touring that." This wasn't the arena-rock victory lap; this was the foundation being laid in cold winters and sweaty clubs, a necessary labour before the explosion.
I always take those things as compliments. When people make fun of us, I I look at it as a compliment.
Of course, no discussion of Nuno’s playing is complete without touching on his primary influence. When asked about Queen’s Brian May, his answer is immediate and absolute. "Absolutely. Without a doubt. Without a doubt. A big fan of Queen, big fan of Brian May." You can hear it all over his work—the meticulous multi-tracking, the orchestral guitar harmonies, the percussive and vocal quality of his phrasing. It’s not just hero worship; it's a foundational piece of his musical DNA.
That DNA is channelled through his iconic Washburn N4 signature guitar. For decades, the stripped-down, super-Strat style instrument has been his weapon of choice. He describes it with the comfortable affection of a lifelong partnership. "It's my baseball glove. Right? It just it fits. So I've I've never really fluctuated from it." In an industry driven by gear acquisition syndrome, Bettencourt’s loyalty to a single design speaks volumes about his focus on function over flash.
But the most fascinating part of Bettencourt’s career in the 21st century has been his parallel life as a high-demand sideman for pop royalty. It’s a world away from Extreme’s hard rock theatre. He recounts the surreal experience of cutting the guitar parts for Janet Jackson’s “Black Cat” while in the middle of recording Pornograffitti. "I had no idea Janet was showing up and she walked in," he remembers. "A little bit nerve-wracking was her sitting behind me... while I was cutting the guitar."
His long tenure with Rihanna further solidified his reputation as one of the most versatile and reliable players in the business. He wasn't just there to shred; he was a core part of her stadium-shaking live band. He speaks of the collaborative energy in those sessions, a far cry from the solitary image of the guitar hero. "Rihanna was always in there while I was cutting, and she was always very excited and always kind of, you know, kind of cheering me on and vibing out."
Then there are the stranger, more eclectic collaborations. He paints a vivid picture of working with the impeccably dressed and perpetually drinking Robert Palmer in Milan. "A suave... three-piece full suit every day," Nuno recalls. "And he just, you know, loved his alcohol in the studio... from breakfast till night, he was he was a drinker, but he never, you know, he was the most controlled, suave drinker I've ever met in my life." It’s a brilliant snapshot of a bygone era of cool.
The mythology around Nuno also includes his rumoured work with Journey’s Steve Perry, a collaboration fans have dreamed of for years. He confirms it, albeit with a clarification. "I did do stuff with Steve Perry, actually," he says. "I've written some stuff with him in the past, but not currently." The casual confirmation only deepens the mystery of what those sessions produced and whether they will ever surface.
More recently at the time, he had lent his talents to Canadian rock titans Nickelback for a track on their album Feed the Machine. The story behind the solo is a testament to modern studio realities and raw professionalism. He got the call an hour before leaving for a flight. "I went up in my studio, fired up, and the guitar was the quickest guitar solo I think I've ever recorded in my life and sent it off to him and still made my flight." No fuss. No drama. Just a job that needed doing, executed with blistering efficiency.
And what of the song that will follow him forever? When asked about the sitar-led spoof of “More Than Words” in Mike Myers’ film The Love Guru, Nuno is refreshingly pragmatic. "It was a comedy, so it was a spoof, so I always thought it was funny," he says. "I always take those things as compliments. When people make fun of us, I look at it as a compliment." It's the only sane approach for an artist whose most delicate ballad became an inescapable piece of global pop culture.
At the time of this interview, he was preparing to bring Extreme to the stage at Bluesfest Windsor. His promise to the audience was bold, a declaration of enduring power from a band that refuses to fade away. "I think we're better than we were when we were 18," he states with earned confidence. "We always leave everything up on that stage no matter where we play."
Revisiting this 2018 dialogue reveals a musician in a unique position—a celebrated hero of his genre who had also become an indispensable secret weapon for pop’s biggest stars. He was a man balancing the weight of his own band’s legacy with the demands of a thriving, multifaceted career. The new album was still a ghost, but Nuno Bettencourt was anything but idle. He was, as always, simply working.
519 Magazine Archive: We are thrilled to officially unearth the 519 Magazine Digital Vault. This isn't just a re-post; it's a high-fidelity restoration of a pivotal era in music journalism. By pairing original print dates with modern retrospectives, we’re bridging the gap between historical rock-and-roll grit and the lightning-fast performance of today’s web. These stories—once locked in physical print and lost URLs—are now back, fully searchable, and optimized for a new generation of fans.
We are thrilled to officially unearth the 519 Magazine Digital Vault. This isn't just a re-post; it's a high-fidelity restoration of a pivotal era in music journalism. By pairing original print dates with modern retrospectives, we're bridging the gap between historical rock-and-roll grit and the lightning-fast performance of today's web. These stories—once locked in physical print and lost URLs—are now back, fully searchable, and optimized for a new generation of fans.
