When news broke in the late hours of August 25 that Riley Gale had passed away, you only needed a quick glance at ‘Metal Twitter’ to understand how beloved the Power Trip singer was in our world. Yes, there were plenty of tributes to how brilliant a frontman he was. His unmistakable, rasping bellow was the focal point around which Power Trip’s buzzsaw thrash attack could flow; his effortless command of a crowd made him a formidable presence onstage. But it was the tributes to the man, not the musician, that stood tallest that night. Almost immediately, personal anecdotes from friends, fans and peers began flooding social media - you couldn’t move for tales of Riley’s generosity, his empathy and his love for the scene that bore him.
Because Riley Gale was one of us. He represented everything that metal should aspire to be: fearless, uncompromising, sure, but also accepting, unprejudiced, open-minded and full-hearted. He refused to let his band be co-opted by arseholes - “If someone is wearing a Power Trip shirt, you can probably assume that that person isn’t some weird, racist, meathead piece of shit” he famously told Revolver - and he was unafraid to wear his beliefs on his sleeve. He wanted metal to be a safe space for everybody, and would always go out of his way to make that possible for those around him.