There are some bands that just seem destined for the big time. The ones with the attitude, the look, and, most importantly, the songs to back it all up. Sweden’s Crashdïet had all of that in spades. They arrived in the early 2000s like a middle finger to the complacent rock scene, bringing the sleaze, the danger, and the unapologetic hedonism of Sunset Strip-era Mötley Crüe and Skid Row. But despite being absolute warriors of glam-infused metal, they’re still somehow underappreciated on the global stage. A travesty, really, because if things had played out differently, they could have been one of the biggest bands in the world.
The story of Crashdïet is one of triumph, tragedy, and a ridiculous number of line-up changes. But through all of it, they’ve never lost that raw energy or the ability to write anthems that demand fists in the air and beers on standby. Their debut album Rest in Sleaze (2005) should have been their ticket to the top. It was everything that sleaze metal should be—dirty, anthemic, and dripping in excess. Songs like Riot in Everyone and Breakin’ the Chainz were full-throttle, full-volume calls to arms, soundtracking the ultimate night of reckless abandon. And then, just as they were on the brink of something huge, tragedy struck.
Dave Lepard, the band’s original frontman and spiritual leader, was gone. His passing in 2006 sent shockwaves through the scene, and for a while, it seemed like Crashdïet might not recover. But rather than let the dream die, the remaining members regrouped, refusing to let their brother’s vision fade. Over the years, they’ve endured a revolving door of vocalists—each one bringing something new to the table while still keeping that original spark alive. From H. Olliver Twisted (who later jumped ship to Reckless Love) to Simon Cruz and, more recently, Gabriel Keyes, they’ve continued to soldier on, releasing killer records and proving time and time again that they’re one of the hardest-working, most dedicated bands in rock.
Their 2010 album Generation Wild was a statement. It wasn’t just a return—it was a battle cry. The title track alone was a masterclass in how to write an arena-ready anthem, and tracks like Armageddon and Rebel showed they had no intention of watering down their sound. 2013’s The Savage Playground and 2019’s Rust kept the fire burning, each packed with the kind of songs that would tear up a festival crowd if given the chance. And that’s the thing—Crashdïet should be playing festival main stages. They belong in front of tens of thousands of people, causing chaos, bringing pyro, and proving that sleaze metal isn’t just alive, but thriving.
Which brings us to It’s A Miracle—a song that deserves to be heard at Donington Park. Imagine it: a sunset slot at Download Festival, the opening notes ringing out over the crowd, and a field full of rock fans losing their minds as the chorus soars into the night. That’s what Crashdïet deserve. That’s what their fans deserve. It’s a crime against rock ‘n’ roll that they haven’t had that moment yet, but there’s still time.
Despite the setbacks, the instability, and the punches they’ve taken, Crashdïet are still here. They’re still writing, still touring, still flying the flag for real, unfiltered, no-bullshit rock ‘n’ roll. And in a world where rock often feels too safe, too polished, and too corporate, bands like Crashdïet are more important than ever.
So here’s the deal: if you’re reading this and you haven’t given them the time of day yet, go and blast Rest in Sleaze at full volume. Work your way through their catalogue, from Generation Wild to Automaton, and tell me that this band doesn’t deserve to be huge. And if there’s any justice in the world, one day we’ll be standing in a field at Download, beers in hand, screaming It’s A Miracle at the top of our lungs. That would be the moment they’ve always deserved. And you know what? There’s still time to make it happen.
By Eric Mackinnon