Fresh off his tour stop in Fort Wayne, Indiana, Lestat de Lioncourt opens up—reluctantly—about music, fame, and fandom

Lestat steps offstage as the roar of the crowd echoes behind him, moving through a dimly lit backstage hall, damp with heat and plastered with posters. I trail a few paces behind, as documentarian Daniel Molloy shadows him closely—close enough that the friction between them is tangible, even without a word spoken.

Shirtless, Lestat peels off into his dressing room. The door shuts and I’m left outside with a couple of crewmembers who don’t seem interested in conversation.

A few minutes later, he reemerges and we’re escorted out through the service corridor toward his tour bus, Molloy still tracking every movement.

Inside are Larry, Alex, Salamander, and TC, who make up his band The Vampire Lestat (formerly Satan’s Night Out). Lestat moves past them and disappears into a private suite at the rear, stretching out across a velvet bench piled with soft pillows, glitter still shimmering on his skin. Outside, fans linger beyond the fence, hoping for one more glimpse before the band pulls toward its next stop in Detroit.

Since the publication of Molloy’s Interview with the Vampire, Lestat’s distrust of the press has only grown stronger. He barely looks up when I follow him in, scrolling through his phone as I shuffle my notes, though he doesn’t dismiss me outright. With Lestat, tolerance is as close to enthusiasm as it gets.

When I ask if there’s anything from his past he wishes people saw differently before he takes the stage again, he looks up from his phone, eyes sharpening.

As you continue your tour, is there anything from your past you wish people understood differently?

LESTAT: There’s an entire airport paperback dedicated to misunderstanding my history. The planet hurtling towards end times, we all have limited hours left I’m afraid, and it’s extremely aggravating to have to spend mine defending libelous invention.

There’s a description of a necktie I was said to have worn while Mr. du Lac and I were commiserating once with one Thomas Anderson. Some horrid angled gold and red travesty. I would never wear such a tie. Start there.

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Neckties aside, how would you describe your music for anyone who is unfamiliar?

LESTAT: How would you describe a rain cloud yet to rain? Or the contents of a locked box?

I suppose I wouldn’t. Let’s try something else. What is your favorite era of music, what inspires your sound?

LESTAT: The last five years of Bach. The first three years of Monk. The Zombies’ Odessey and Oracle. And “Fuck the Pain Away,” by Peaches. Everything else before, after, and in between is disposable.

So what should people expect from you on tour?

LESTAT: The fortunate soul who purchases a ticket to my tour will understand their life as follows: Before The Vampire Lestat, and after The Vampire Lestat.

Speaking of fans, there are some who genuinely believe they are destined to be with you. What would you say to them?

LESTAT: I’d say their ambition is admirable, only topped by their level of delusion.

What about the fans who send their art? What do you do with it?

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LESTAT: If it was made for me, if it somehow miraculously found its way to me, its journey has been successful—I abandon it immediately.

Fans are tattooing themselves with tour quotes and lyrics. Is there one line you think deserves that kind of immortality?

LESTAT: Immortal? A tattoo on a mortal body? Is that your definition of immortality? For that particular canvas, look no further than my song “Long Face.”

Speaking of immortality, you’ve lived in New Orleans for centuries and you’ve seen its beauty and its darkness evolve — where should someone go to experience New Orleans through your eyes?

LESTAT: There’s a crypt in Metairie Cemetery that recently received its host. I’d encourage a gift-bearing pilgrimage there if one found themselves marooned in the Crescent City.

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Finally — what kind of summer are you planning? Should we be preparing for chaos?

LESTAT: Call your mother and tell her you love her. Hang up. Then put your head between your knees and wait for the sound of the horsemen’s hooves. You can never be prepared for The Vampire Lestat.