Mark Janicello Trades Opera for Whiskey-Stained Rage on “My BFF Jack Daniels”

Mark Janicello has lived about twelve artistic lifetimes. Operatic tenor. Elvis interpreter crowned by Elvis’s own composer, Ben Weisman. West End playwright. Award magnet. The résumé is insane. So when a man like that drops a song called “My BFF Jack Daniels,” you lean in.

This track was eight years in the making, and you can hear the mileage. What started as a country-leaning ballad mutated into a rock confession that swings somewhere between The Eagles, Queen, and a late-night Guns N’ Roses spiral. It feels intentional and unfiltered at the same time.

Vocally, Janicello is not playing small. His classically trained tenor slices straight through the mix, but there is grit in it now. Not polished opera-house perfection. There is abrasion. You can feel the New Year’s Eve heartbreak baked into every line. He does not just sing about rage. He taps into it. The chorus hits like a toast you regret making but mean anyway.

Production-wise, the guitars carry a muscular swagger that keeps the song from drifting into adult-contemporary territory. There is drama, but it is not cheesy. It is lived-in. The drums push forward with urgency, like time is running out before midnight. The hook is sticky in a way that makes you replay it, half for catharsis, half because you low-key want to scream it in your car.

Culturally, this lands at a weirdly perfect moment. We are in an era obsessed with curated healing and “soft life” aesthetics. Janicello basically says no. Sometimes you need the ugly stage. The angry stage. The whiskey stage. As long as you do not move in permanently. That honesty feels refreshing.

Who needs to hear this? Anyone who has ever had a holiday implode. Anyone who pretended they were fine while internally combusting. Anyone over 30 who knows heartbreak hits differently when you are supposed to be emotionally evolved.

“My BFF Jack Daniels” is not about glorifying the bottle. It is about admitting you needed a minute to fall apart. And in 2026, that kind of emotional transparency still hits.

You rewrote this song with four different composers. What did the first three versions get wrong about your anger that the final one nailed?

I wouldn't say the first three versions were "wrong," as I've worked all three composers numerous times... but all of them were leaning too much into my past.  My "normal" Adult Contemporary Pop feel... with a bit of country thrown in.  There was a feeling that the melodies didn't fully reflect what I was feeling inside when I wrote the lyrics -- but at that point, I couldn't put my finger on what was bothering me.  I knew that "Jack" needed more "bite" than anything that the first three writers came up with.  I tried, and tried. I rewrote the lyrics to suit the first 3 melodies, and I just never felt happy with the song... so, I kept looking.  When I heard the track from Sahar Twito (aka Moon), it BOTHERED me.  It was not (at all) what I originally imagined for "Jack Daniels"...but there was something very RIGHT about it, and it wouldn't leave me alone.  I worked for quite a long time to find the arrangement and to get "Jack" where it is today.  I think Sahar's track had the underlying RAGE that I didn't really realize was in the song, until I heard his music.     

You built a career on big romantic ballads. Were you afraid fans would reject a more abrasive, rage-forward side of you?

Of course.   I'm a classically-trained tenor.  I cut my teeth singing with the "bel canto" (beautiful singing) style -- where beauty and ease of tone are EVERYTHING.  "Jack" required me to use my voice in an aggressive manner with that amount of rage and anger in my singing that I've never put on record before.  Artistically and vocally, it was also a big step for me.  However, I wanted "Jack" to HOWL, and I couldn't do that using my regular singing style.  I've gone from Opera to Elvis to Musicals and all other styles of music, and UP UNTIL NOW I've been fortunate enough that most of my fans have followed me -- wherever I felt I needed to go musically.  "Jack", however, is a real departure.  Let's see how they react to this one.    

As someone who has played Elvis 400 times, how do you separate theatrical intensity from real-life emotional exposure in the studio? 

That's a very interesting question.  Singing, when it's done right, is about pure emotion.  Music speaks to the human soul.  It goes past rational thought and touches the heart and the emotions of the listener.  However, that only works on a purely emotional plane that is honest and truthful.  You can't "fake" real emotion.  People try, but the audience always knows.  I've never felt that my theatrical singing was less "exposed" emotionally than what I do in the studio.  For me, it's more a question of emotional "projection."  I've made a lot of movies.  When you make movies, the camera catches your thoughts when you're in a close-up.  In contrast, when you're performing onstage, you have to "project" those same thoughts and emotions to the last row of the house.  For me, singing's the same.  When I'm in front of a microphone, I need neither the vocal volume nor the emotional projection to transmit my feelings, as the microphone is capturing my thoughts in real time.  Those thoughts and feelings, in turn, color the sound of my voice.  The recording process transmits my emotions for me, instead of my using lung power to do it. You have lived in 13 countries. Did that global perspective change how you process heartbreak and masculinity in this song?

I've lived in 13 countries, and I've performed in 52 countries.  People have more in common than they realize.  Audiences all over the world react pretty much the same to certain songs.  When the music and the lyrics are in harmony, even if the listener doesn't understand all the words, the emotional life of the song creates a reaction in the audience. Emotions for men and appearing "masculine" is a universal "problem." Men, generally speaking, have much more trouble showing weakness, showing pain, and showing hurt than women do.  Speaking for myself, my initial reaction to being hurt is to get angry or aggressive --  "You hurt me.  I'll show you!!"  It's involuntary, in my case.  It's a way to push the person hurting me at a distance, so that I can go somewhere, find a cave, and in solitude "lick my emotional wounds."  I think this holds true for a LOT of men all over the world.  The hurt gets buried so that a man doesn't appear "weak."  I think it's a weakness in my own character, but who am I to judge anyone else's way of "hurting??"

If “My BFF Jack Daniels” represents a detour into anger, what does the next chapter of your healing sound like sonically?

I'm 63 years old. I've been onstage since I was 4.  To survive in the industry, you develop a public facade, a character that serves as an avatar for the "real you" that allows you to be "private in public."  Privately, I've been through a LOT.  "Jack" has given me a lyrical sense of freedom that I've not had before.  I tore away some of the emotional "armor" of my public persona and ditched some of my ingrained vocal habits to let "Jack" come to life.  I plan on writing music that continues in that vein.   While I try to "lift people up" through my music and my performances, "Jack" has made me realize that SOMETIMES you need a CATHARTIC song to allow people to blow off steam.  I'll be blowing off ALL KINDS OF STEAM with my next releases.  I've got a new song I'm working on that deals with the never-ending battle of self-criticism and self-hate that comes with being a "perfectionist."  Wanting to improve is vital to artistic growth, but at what point will it EVER BE ENOUGH?  At which point, will I be satisfied and say, "Yes, I'm finally GOOD ENOUGH?   When do I finally CUT MYSELF SOME SLACK??  These are the ideas that I'm working on for my new music.