Ben Cook is a true lifer, and that’s not something we say lightly. The man has had a singular run in music. Cook grew up between England and Canada, where, as a 12-year-old, he witnessed an Oasis show and shortly after would get into punk and hardcore music, going on to sing in the legendary Canadian hardcore punk band No Warning and, until 2021, play guitar in the equally legendary Canadian hardcore punk band Fucked Up. And for almost twenty years now, he has been making eclectic guitar pop music under the names Young Governor, Young Guv, and—currently—GUV.

Warmer Than Gold, GUV’s newest record, is an anglophilic burst of baggy-informed beats, big hooks, and the kind of windswept energy that could only come from a guy who spends a lot of time in airports. Not only does Cook tour quite a bit, with GUV and No Warning, but he also works as a tour manager for other artists. We had a lot of questions for Cook, and he was nice enough to answer all of them. Read the interview—and listen to tracks from Warmer Than Gold—below.

Can you remember the first time you heard punk music?

Yeah. I had a babysitter growing up called Hannah. She was one of my friend’s older sisters and the first person I ever saw wearing leather jackets, shaving her head, dying her hair—really looking sick. I was probably in 3rd or 4th grade. She’d play Crass, Screeching Weasel, and Operation Ivy and tell us about going to downtown Toronto to shows. I didn’t really clock it at the time, but later, when I got into this stuff myself, I’d remember her coming to my house wearing their shirts and playing punk music and think, damn, Hannah was really on some shit.

You went to an Oasis show when you were 12, right? What was that night like?

My mom took me and my best friend in 1996 to see Oasis open for Neil Young in Barrie, Ontario. I remember Noel coming out first and saying, “Put your heads together for the best fuckin’ band in the world.” Liam came out next, taunting the crowd and saying shit I couldn’t understand. Everything about it blew my 12-year-old mind apart and I haven’t been the same since.

What is your relationship with Madchester and baggy music?

I grew up in Toronto to British parents. I have a British passport and family in Manchester. I’d never claim it, I’m a 6ix king through and through, but it’s in my DNA somewhere. It’s messy, confident, rude, and kind of crazy, and that energy has always spoken to me. I hope it doesn’t come off as cosplay, it hit me early in life and never really left.

Could you talk about the process of making your newest record?

It started in Lisbon, where I sometimes live, with my longtime friend and writing partner James Matthew Seven. He flew there to work, but all I wanted to do was drink wine and go to the beach. We had a minor falling out because of it, but came back strong a month later when I was living in London. He’d send me early production ideas and chords remotely to write to, and it all really came out then. I wrote a lot of the vocals on the bus bopping around London.

I traveled to LA twice to get the gang—Tony Price, Noah Kohll, Ryan Gavel—into sessions to complete things and cook more. We kept it loose and easy. I didn’t stress the small things as much. I let James take the role of “producer” in the classic sense, and I played the role of the artist.

Is there a song on the new record that you’re most proud of, that captures what you were searching for musically and thematically?

I think “Chasin’ Luv.” Considering it came together so fast—written and recorded in under an hour—it might be one of the best GUV songs ever made. It has the classic jangle of the previous records but belongs on Warmer Than Gold. We needed something that sounded like an immediate hit. We wanted to channel early Primal Scream, Ride, and The Field Mice in the truest sense, and I think we nailed it. I’m really proud of that one—everyone involved smashed it.

What were some lessons you learned in the early days of No Warning, both as a songwriter and performer?

Lesson one: if you don’t want to puke on the crowd, you better puke before the set. I had a major vomit episode due to stage anxiety and an overload of adrenaline while playing with Breakdown in Boston. The entire stage was covered in it—chili cheese fries. Breakdown played after us and were like, “What the fuck is that smell?” Yonkers accent. Truly horrible. For the next four years of touring, I dealt with this by inducing vomit before shows. Turns out I permanently damaged my esophagus. Is this TMI? Gross—sorry.

Lesson two: on Suffer, Survive we worked closely with Linkin Park. They helped shape some of the arrangements, and it was the first time I saw people really moving verses and choruses around in the edit window—surgically reworking songs. “What if this was the intro?” “What if this was the outro?” Super common now, obviously.

It got to the point where I had to fight them to stop, because it was annoying and we were young and thought our shit was fire and wanted to leave the songs how they were. To be honest, it didn’t make the songs better and the album flopped. Good times though.

You seem to always be on the go. How does travel influence your creative process?

I live between Lisbon, LA, and London. My day job is tour manager. During this album’s creation, I worked on the road with horsegiirL, bassvictim, and Snow Strippers. Between traveling with insanely talented people and my own wanderings, I feel so inspired—if I had the time, I’d make an album a month. As for my creative process, I don’t even know what it is anymore because I’m so busy, but somehow albums keep coming. I write my best shit in motion. When I’m still, I crumble. Trying to work on that.

What has it been like playing softer, more melodic music at hardcore shows? Do you think your time in hardcore has helped you stretch those boundaries?

Hardcore being what it is now, if I did a full acoustic set at a hardcore show, people wouldn’t blink an eye and would probably fuck with it hard. It’s a time where blending things together is celebrated and encouraged. Hardcore demands that you be professionally self-sufficient and really get good at your craft. I’ve applied that to everything I do. It may not feel like when I went to CBGB’s at 17, afraid I might get stabbed, but it’s inspiring to see how widespread and creative it’s become.

Do you have any dream collaborations? What does your dream concert look like?

I’d like to do a hardcore record with Freddie Gibbs. I think he’d nail it. I’d love to see The Jam in the late ’70s. A Gap Band club show in the 80s, or some insane Minneapolis funk bill from that era. Obituary and Cannibal Corpse in 90s Florida would also be fire.

Photo Credit: Victoria Prestes