"We changed to make more money," says Shotgun Messiah's Tim Skold. The singer is clearly joking, but the issue of the band's ne M.O. on its third record, the heavy, industrial-tinged onslaught of the aptly titled 'Violent New Breed', has inspired a bit of controversy.

Sitting in the relative comfort of the band's S.I.R. rehearsal room, Skold and guitarist Harry Cody address the issue readily, and with characteristic humor.

"We've changed and progressed, thank God. Bands don't die, according to me anyway," continues Skold. "It's easy for a band like U2 to do something new, because it can tell people when its in the studio on a daily basis, and inform the masses of its whereabouts. But we disappear for two years, no one hears shit, and then we've changed and it seems overnight. But that might not be the fact. The last change is obvious because we didn't have a band when we cut the album. It was up to us to do what we wanted, and that's what we did."

Indeed, there have been a couple of line-up changes for the Swedish rockers, which eventually led to Skold putting down his bass and picking up the mic before 'Second Coming', the sophomore album that featured ex-bassist Bobby Lycon and former original drummer Stixx.

Their parting was "a curveball for us. They said it wasn't personal or musical, that they were just tired of being in a small band on a small label, being broke, going on tour for months and not really feeling like they achieved anything. But being on tour like that is an achievement in itself," Skold chuckles.

"If they weren't willing to give 100 percent, it's a good thing they left. Now there are no grudges," adds Cody.

Shotgun, who has called L.A. home since 1988, is now rounded out by Swedish drummer B.J. and Pennsylvania-bred bassist Pat Guyton. It didn't matter to Skold and Cody whether the new members were Swedish or not: "We weren't very Swedish to begin with," notes Cody.

"Swedish musicians are very Deep Purple, very Yngwie Malmsteen," Skold offers.

"Pomp rock," concludes Cody.

That's one thing the ultra-aggro, noisy and high-tech 'Violent New Breed' is not. So is this where the future of Shotgun Messiah lies?

"If you would have asked us during 'Second Coming' how the next album was going to sound, we would have had no idea. Shit happens," shrugs Skold.

"When you have an obsession, like will I be doing this in two years, that's the least of our concerns. Now it's exciting, so you do it," Cody explains of the band's instinctional musical approach.

Of course, Shotgun could have take the easy way out. "Yeah, now you know the formula, so write five more "Heartbreak Blvd" and two ballads and we'd be in business," he snorts. "Like after the first album, people wanted us to put out an album with no ballads and one instrumental, because that was what we do. Everybody is so happy to compartmentalize."

One accurate piece of compartmentalization, however, is Cody's placement in the guitar god arena. Though the guitarist, who has been playing since the age of 11 and owns about 16 guitars, easily lives up to his accolades, he has no plans to guest with other bands. "I don't care if Michael Jackson calls me. It just interferes with the band. I'm not Steve fucking Lukather. It's okay for some people, just not for me."

Still, despite strong reviews and long tours, it hasn't been an easy road for S.M., and outside offers might be tempting, especially after the band relates a scary tour story."We come to a club, zero promotion, nothing. There are like four hillbillies at the bar coming on to their first cousins, and they want us to leave. That was one of the highlights," Cody laughs sarcastically.

So do they ever feel that the band is more work than it's worth, despite successes like the hot single "Heartbreak Blvd"?

"To think that way, you'd have to believe there is a reward down the line, and doing it is the reward. I believe I speak for both of us," philosophizes Cody, sipping on one of the more than half-dozen Diet Pepsis he drinks daily.

The singer concurs, "Some of our perversions are alike. It's the journey, not the destination, as Steve Tylers says," quotes Skold, grinning.

And the journey that has taken the band to 'Violent New Breed' has been a logical progression. After the departure of the rhythm section, Skold and Cody decided to record album number three with machines rather than men, with the end goal being "a wall of noise. I think those were the words I used at the record company when I tried to explain that this wasn't going to be 'Second Coming II'," says Cody.

So Skold went to the band's label and said, "We demand the contractual minimal recording fund. Give us the fucking money or drop us."

Relativity's faith in the band prevailed, and the duo headed back to Sweden to record. During the recording process disagreements between the two were rare. "We don't have time to fight internally, we're so busy dealing with everything outside," quips Cody. "I think we're intimidatingly in sync when we talk to someone. When he's tired of yapping, I just step in."

As it is, we've been yapping for well over an hour, so I ask them something along the lines of "anything you'd like to add?" Big mistake. We start talking about rock journalists. "The worst thing is when the writer doesn't have an opinion," rails Skold, "though an interview should be pretty objective. But I hold you guys personally responsible for not breaking Kix. They should have been huge!"

Uh, it's time I ran along, but no, there's more. "Music journalists don't bother researching. I don't know if they're balancing their checkbooks while they listen to their free records or what," chimes in Cody, while Skold laughingly says, "Making friends all around."

"Yeah, aren't we," laughs Cody.

"Those damn sociable Swedes!"

And I went home to balance my checkbook.

Katherine Turman