It’s 2001, and The Darkness are a band out of time. Vintage-rock disciples adrift in the era of nu metal, the band’s misfit status is embodied by frontman Justin Hawkins: a former jingle writer with a glass-shattering falsetto and a taste for man-made fabrics. Completing the line-up are Justin’s younger brother Dan Hawkins (a sometime session guitarist), drummer Ed Graham (a hometown friend from the Hawkins brothers’ native Lowestoft) and 30-something Scottish bassist Frankie Poullain (who dresses like a pirate).
“We were desperately poor,” Justin reflects. “No hope whatsoever of achieving anything at all. But as long as we stayed alive – and I mean that literally – we were happy. We had nothing to lose, and so the reasons for doing music were pure and simple enjoyment. I think that’s why we felt so free to record something as different as I Believe In A Thing Called Love.”
The band’s home base was the top-floor flat shared by Dan Hawkins and Poullain in London’s Primrose Hill (described by the guitarist as a “shit-hole”), where the members would drink cheap red wine, smoke heavily and arrange themselves in a circle to spit out song ideas.
“It wasn’t like a chimps’ tea party,” says Justin. “It was a very focused affair. We called it the table of truth, whether there was actually a table there or not. There was no hiding.”
One fateful day, when a chunky chord sequence rolled off Justin’s acoustic guitar, ears pricked up.
“It just popped out, that ridiculous opening riff,” the frontman says of I Believe In A Thing Called Love. “And Dan had the chords for the pre-chorus. Writing that song was like an easy-peel tangerine; it’s got the segments that fall apart in your hand, and it’s packed with juice.”
Even so, when Justin belted out the octave-straddling chorus, his younger brother worried it was overly frivolous.
“When I hear something that sounds too serious,” says Justin. “I tend to worry that it sounds like we’ve climbed up our own arse, whereas I think Dan has the opposite concern. If we’d gone any further it would have become a parody. The question was: can we get away with this? And the answer was clearly yes. It just felt good playing it loud. It felt real and fun at the same time.”
The final version of I Believe In A Thing Called Love was a tapestry of overdubs. But there’s good reason why Justin recalls the specific date that he tracked his lead vocal at 2khz Studios in North London. “The vocal that we ended up using on the recording was from September 11, 2001. I remember coming into the studio as it was unfolding. There were people watching it on the TV. I just thought there’d been an accident of some sort. I didn’t realise the implications until afterwards. I just got on with my work.”
While a horrified planet watched the New York terror attacks unfold, the oblivious band bottled the song in suitably anarchic fashion.
“I was naked in the vocal booth,” Justin recalls. “At first I did it as an experiment to see if it would help, because I was struggling with the vocal. Then I just started doing it because it made Ed a bit uncomfortable. Then it became a tradition. Perhaps I was just showing off. But that is part of my job, I suppose.”
Likewise, there was an element of exhibitionism in the song’s three guitar breaks (the flashy first and third solos are played by Justin, the more restrained middle one by Dan).
“Everyone gets a moment in the sun,” says the frontman. “There’s a bit where the guitar isn’t playing that much and you can hear Frankie going for it, and my brother and I both get solos. Even rock bands had omitted solos back then, because they felt it would hamper their chances of getting on the airwaves. So it was important to redress the balance slightly by putting three on there.”
Another memorable moment was Justin’s shriek of ‘Guitar!’ before his brother’s lead break.
“I always had the idea that I would shout something,” he says. “There were probably lots of different options from that session. My favourite thing is the ‘Huh!’ before the first solo. That was actually Ed’s idea. It’s a melody-free exhalation. I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off, but I was really pleased with how it sounded.”
It wouldn’t be accurate to say the song was an instant smash. Released in August 2002 as a three-track EP, the song sank. But when the band released the song again in September 2003, as the third single from parent album Permission To Land, it all kicked off. “And were it not for those pesky Black Eyed Peas having a record-breaking run at Number One,” notes Justin, “we’d have had a Number-One song.”
Twenty-three years, seven albums, a split and a reunion later, I Believe In A Thing Called Love remains a shoo-in for The Darkness’s set-lists. “It’s like slipping into a comfortable bath with a loved one,” says Justin. “I still have the same affection for it. It’s a moment in any set. People love it. It will always save the day. We were most probably pissed when we wrote it, but whether you’re drunk, sober or somewhere in-between it has the ability to raise your spirits.”
In 2020, Classic Rock crowned it the greatest song of the century so far. “I’d say nineties as well,” Justin offers. “I think some of these chancers in the charts nowadays would kill for a song like that. If it came out now it’d be a hit. If it came out in the eighties it would be a hit. And I’m not saying that because I’m showing off, I’m telling the truth. I realise that song is bigger than us. And that’s fine. If there’s a band that doesn’t like their biggest hit, then I feel sorry for them, really.”
The Darkness play shows in Australia and New Zealand next month, and have a UK arena tour scheduled for late 2026. For full dates and tickets, check The Darkness website.
