words @killler.solo.music
MTV, MCA, Sunset Strip bullshit, new music and one very uncooperative 59-year-old glam survivor.
There are two types of rock stars.
There are the ones who eventually become sensible adults.
Then there is Steve Summers.
Pretty Boy Floyd’s frontman is 59, still singing the high notes, still doing the splits in the sauna, still talking about hairspray and Sunset Strip chaos — and apparently still carrying around a flamethrower labelled MCA RECORDS.
“I’m the youngest 59-year-old guy at my gym,” Summers tells me.
Naturally, I believe him.
The Pretty Boy Floyd frontman is heading back to Australia in November for the RU PRETTY ENUFF tour with Enuff Z’Nuff, but this isn’t some dusty nostalgia lap where everyone puts on the old leather pants, plays “Rock And Roll (Is Gonna Set The Night On Fire)” and politely remembers 1989.
Summers is still writing.
There’s a new Pretty Boy Floyd album almost finished. There’s a new single, “Love Sick”. There are shows booked through 2026 and into next year.
And there is absolutely no fucking interest in quietly disappearing into the rock’n’roll retirement home.
“Only I could screw it up.”
That might be the most important difference between Pretty Boy Floyd then and Pretty Boy Floyd now.
Back in the day, Summers says, the machinery around the band could screw things up perfectly well without any assistance.
He points directly at the band’s relationship with MCA, particularly the money and effort thrown behind the “Rock And Roll (Is Gonna Set The Night On Fire)” video and what he describes as the label’s failure to properly get it into MTV rotation.
The band had the record.
They had the video.
They had the songs.
What they apparently didn’t have was the right people making sure the machine actually fucking worked.
Summers still sounds genuinely pissed about it.
Not bitter, exactly.
More like a guy who has spent 40 years remembering where he left the body.
“I’m not handing over another record to somebody that’s going to give me a ten thousand dollar advance.”
That brings us neatly to 2026.
The major-label safety net is gone, but so is the bloke standing behind you telling you what you’re allowed to do.
Summers says everything is now in his hands. If something goes wrong, he’s the one who has to fix it. If the new Pretty Boy Floyd record needs to get to the fans, he’ll figure out how to make that happen.
And judging by the way he talks about the new material, he’s not treating it like some contractual obligation to keep the old logo alive.
He’s fucking excited about it.
“I know that we’re writing some of the greatest music that we’ve written,” he says.
There is also a very specific sort of confidence that comes with surviving long enough to stop giving a shit what everyone thinks.
Summers freely admits he’s old school. Van Halen. Zeppelin. Rush. Mötley Crüe. KISS.
But he also knows exactly what Pretty Boy Floyd is supposed to sound like.
Big guitars.
Big choruses.
Big fucking personality.
And apparently enough remaining ego to look at some bands who haven’t released anything he likes since the Reagan administration and think, Yeah, we can still do this better.
Fair enough.
The funniest part of talking to Summers, though, is that underneath all the Sunset Strip mythology, there doesn’t seem to be much interest in pretending he’s still 22.
He’s more interested in saving his voice.
Saving his energy.
Getting to the show.
Then fucking destroying the stage.
He jokes about doing the splits in the sauna. He talks about touring without a huge crew. He talks about how most of the day disappears into soundcheck, merchandise, VIPs and getting ready for the show.
The glamour is still there.
It’s just got a fucking itinerary now.
And then there’s Australia.
Pretty Boy Floyd are hitting Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane in November, bringing the old-school sleaze with them while dragging the future along for the ride.
Summers says the fans are what he’s most excited about.
Not the bars.
Not sightseeing.
Not some bullshit rock-star bucket list.
The fans.
Which makes sense.
Because Pretty Boy Floyd have already done the part where they were supposed to disappear.
They didn’t.
They’ve survived MTV, major labels, changing music, changing lineups, changing audiences and several decades of people announcing that rock is dead.
Now they’ve got a new record almost finished, a new single out in the world and another Australian tour waiting at the end of the runway.
And Steve Summers?
Still singing the high notes.
Still wearing the leather.
Still causing trouble.
Still not handing the fucking record over.
“We’ll get to that Super Bowl.”
Honestly, Steve.
At this point, I wouldn’t bet against the bastard.
RU PRETTY ENUFF Australian Tour 2026
Pretty Boy Floyd and Enuff Z’Nuff hit Australia this November for four nights of big hair, bigger riffs and enough hairspray to violate several environmental treaties.
Thursday 5 November — Adelaide, SA
Lion Arts Factory
with Audio Reign
Friday 6 November — Melbourne, VIC
Prince Bandroom
with Karly Jewell & Poizon’Us
Saturday 7 November — Sydney, NSW
The Underground
with Wicked Things & Wayward Kings
Sunday 8 November — Brisbane, QLD
Soapbox Beer
with Snakebite Whisky, Tailor Made Rejects, Slythr & Runt
Pretty Boy Floyd and Enuff Z’Nuff. Four cities. Four nights. Zero fucking subtlety.
This is the gospel.
I bite crowd surfers.
Killer.
