Gavin Rossdale has never been able to tune out the critics. For someone whose holy texts as a youth were the weekly UK music papers of the 70s and 80s, with all their gloriously vicious, vituperative opinions, it stung when his own band, Bush, fell prey to those same barbed pens during the band’s dizzying mid-90s rise. Thirty-odd years on, he’s still acutely aware that his music will still be scrutinised. Except these days the judgment comes from closer to home.
“My kids play guitar,” he says. “So I’ve got to deliver records that fucking smack people in the face, cos I don’t want them and their friends to go: ‘Remember when they made those strong early records?’”
