Kirk Běhunek: Seven Strings, a Thousand Stories – How a Czech Metal Musician Broke Through Among World Legends

Kirk Běhunek is one of the most distinctive guitar personalities on the Czech metal scene. From the discipline of hockey training through seven-string experimentation to sharing stages with artists like Doro, Blaze Bayley, or Victor Smolski – his journey is a mix of discipline, madness, and uncompromising talent.

In an open interview, he talks about burned guitars, thrash beginnings, international collaborations, and what continues to drive SEVEN forward today.

Kirku, your story is fascinating. Until the age of fifteen you worked hard on the ice in a hockey academy, and then came a sharp shift to the guitar. How much did that sporting discipline and hockey grind help you later when you were spending hours practicing the guitar and developing such a technical level?

Thank you, Martin. Everything you dedicate time and energy to has some kind of feedback. Hockey is a tough and uncompromising game that taught me to fall and get back up again, and also that when something doesn't work out, if you keep putting in the time, it will eventually come. Hockey taught me not to be selfish—it's a team sport—but also that you have to make split-second decisions. Not every decision results in a goal, but you still have to make it. That's how I started practicing guitar every day, and to this day it still hasn't stopped being fun.

You come from a musical family, but you started playing guitar relatively late. A turning point for you was seeing Guy Mann-Dude (ex–Alice Cooper). What exactly about his playing fascinated you so much that you immediately knew this was your path?

Yes, both of my parents were involved in music, even if only as amateurs—my mom sang and my dad played the violin as a child. Music surrounded me and my sister from an early age. A reel-to-reel tape recorder and a record player kept playing Johnny Cash, ABBA, and anything my dad could get from our neighbor who lived in Austria. Her name was Blanka Drboutová Haumer, and she supported me both in hockey and in music. When she brought me the KISS album Double Platinum in 1978, it became clear that music was everything to me, even though I was still skating back then.

I saw Guy Mann-Dude with Miloš "Dodo" Doležal. Miloš was the first person who really guided me and explained how to practice and work so that the guitar would actually start "playing" in my hands. The fact that he studied in the U.S. and worked with people like Guy and many others really motivated me. Above all, it showed me that it's possible if you put in the work. But the biggest influence on me was probably Ace Frehley from KISS.

I don't know if it was because he was the first one I heard on a record player, or because of his playing—but to this day, he's still one of the best rock guitarists in the world for me.

Already in 1990 you were playing a seven-string guitar here, which at the time must have felt like something from another world. How did you actually get your hands on one back then, and what did your thrash-scene colleagues think of your "seven-string attack"?

I wanted to buy a proper guitar, but at that time the waiting period for Ibanez guitars in Germany was around half a year, because everyone was playing Ibanez and the company couldn't keep up with production. I sold everything I had and waited for my dream guitar, the Ibanez RG565 — but it never arrived. So I went to Germany to pick out a replacement. By a series of coincidences and mix-ups, I suddenly found myself holding a UV7BK model — a seven-string. It was in a box where a six-string JEM777VBK was supposed to be. The whole thing felt like science fiction, almost like a dream. Most people back then didn't understand it at all and said it was nonsense. Yet within a few years, many guitarists started playing seven-string guitars, and it became completely standard.

Do you remember the moment when you first thought about setting a guitar on fire? What was the impulse—chance, inspiration, or a desire to take the show to the next level?

Honestly, it doesn't make me very happy. I'm not a supporter of burning guitars, but the whole thing started innocently. In the "Beznaděj" video we used pyro for the first time, and then at a few concerts. The band, everyone around us, and the management were so excited that we began discussing the use of fire at shows as a way to enhance the performance. Then we started exploring more and more possibilities—burning guitars, drumsticks, and crosses, for example in the song "Zlo." We kept experimenting and searching until it evolved into the current stage show. Of course, we worked with professionals, and at every concert we follow strict safety measures to ensure nothing happens. The guitars usually don't burn completely—they go on their own journey afterward, either given to our fans or auctioned off, with the proceeds going to a good cause. 

You went through bands like Stress, Exekutor, or Whitelight with Petr Kolář. How do you remember that wild post-revolution era, when you also started collaborating with Petr Janda in his Propast studio?

Everything before and shortly after the revolution was an incredible ride. I think anyone who experienced that time will agree. It had its downsides — there were still communist restrictions — but in the end, it was huge exposure for the bands. Venues were constantly full, and we played every Friday and Saturday all year round. Right after the revolution, things did slow down for a while and many bands ended, but then it gradually improved again. In every band, I tried to learn something from my bandmates and keep pushing myself and the group forward.

Petr Janda is the rock father of us all. I believe he helped and brought visibility to many Czechoslovak bands. After our first collaboration in 1992 with the band Exekutor on Rockmapa IV, we became friends. Later, we also worked together with the band Whitelight. We're still good friends to this day — that's how I feel about it. 

SEVEN started out as the instrumental trio Johny Band. What led you to build a band purely on guitar virtuosity? Was it difficult in 1990s Czechia to promote music that doesn't need a singer to connect with people?

I didn't originally want to play instrumentally, but I couldn't find a singer for a long time — after working with Petr Kolář, it wasn't easy at all. So it happened naturally. We played that way until 2007, when Jirka "Kombi" Komberec joined. In the beginning it was very difficult, because apart from a few exceptions, no one else was doing it. Still, we functioned really well and played major events, where we stood out as something unique.

That instrumental period opened doors for me abroad and led to many collaborations — with companies that manufacture musical instruments (Ibanez, Mesa Boogie, Rivera, Laney, G. Dennis, Digitech, Black Smith, and many others), as well as opportunities to work with rock and metal legends. 

You've had an incredible collaboration with the metal queen Doro Pesch. What was it like when your joint video "Believe In Yourself" made it onto MTV and you stood on stage with her in front of thousands of people?

I was very lucky to be in the right place at the right time. A big part of that goes to Martin Fořt and Richard Harušták. The collaboration was incredible — working with Doro was absolutely great, and we became close friends. Later, we toured across Europe with Doro's band, and I also performed with her occasionally when she invited me — sometimes even unexpectedly.

There were moments when someone would rush into the dressing room and say, "You're playing this or that song with Doro tonight." I'd just sit there stunned, not knowing how to react. Then Joy Taylor, Doro's guitarist, would come in and say, "It's like this — you're on stage in about half an hour," and then leave. In those moments, all the hard work I had put into music really paid off, along with the fact that from a young age I was listening to records and trying to learn riffs from my favorite bands.

Whether you're standing in front of a 30,000-strong crowd or 100 people in a club, it feels very similar to me. What matters most is that amazing feeling of holding a guitar and playing, and seeing people leave the concert happy. The most beautiful thing about music is the energy that's created when playing in a band and how it connects with the fans. That's the biggest takeaway for me—it's an indescribable feeling.

You also worked with Victor Smolski, who produced your album. In what way did working with such a guitar giant push you forward the most as a player and as a producer?

Working and sharing the stage with Victor was another dream come true. He's an incredible player and an amazing person. We're very much aligned in how we perceive music, and when he produced the album, everything went very quickly and smoothly. I learned and picked up a lot from him. I knew where my limits were — what I couldn't go beyond — and he taught me how to push past them. He's an unbelievable virtuoso, and playing on stage with him was a huge honor for me. We've recently been in touch and even talked about working together again. 

Your range is incredible — from your thrash beginnings in Exekutor to a planned collaboration with the Salzburg Philharmonic. How do you reconcile the raw metal spirit with a musician who seeks symphonic depth and jazz variety?

I really love classical music, and in fact, music of any kind. Whenever I listen to something, I feel great respect for the work of others—especially for what someone had to invest to make it sound the way it does and have its character. I try to listen to different genres and let them inspire and influence me. I like Frank Zappa, Jeff Beck, Gary Moore, jazz, country, and anything where I can feel a distinct personality.

The collaboration with the philharmonic didn't actually happen because at the time I handled everything through a friend, and he dropped the ball. Still, it was incredible when, after a workshop, the director of the Salzburg Philharmonic came to me and offered a collaboration, explaining his vision of how it could work

You're an endorsed artist for global brands like Mesa Boogie, Ibanez, or Laney. What does a guitarist of your caliber need to meet for such giants to choose them and feature them on their global websites?

I don't really know how to answer that properly. The companies approached me themselves—maybe it's because I've been using those instruments for a long time and they were satisfied with how I represent them. For me, it's an incredible honor, and I truly value these collaborations. It's also true that over time I've worked with many companies. One of my more recent collaborations is with the American string manufacturer Black Smith and their Czech distributor BachMusic.

You've supported bands like Scorpions, Helloween, and Uriah Heep. Which of those global legends impressed you the most with their attitude backstage?

We were incredibly lucky, and I'm very grateful for that. What often amazed me was how humble, polite, and down-to-earth these stars are. It was great to be able to talk with them about gear, guitars, or listen to stories about what they've experienced — like from Mick from Uriah Heep. Some musicians were even interested in what I was playing. For example, after a concert at Metalfest in Pilsen, the technicians and Alex Skolnick came over to us and talked about where they had played the day before and where we were heading next. Alex praised our show and even checked out our guitars. I'm not saying all musicians are like that, but we were lucky to meet really cool and genuine people.

If a young guy came to you today wanting to play metal and get where you are—what would be the first and most important piece of advice you'd give him as a guitar mentor?

The advice is very difficult, because the music scene is constantly changing, but I know that what a person truly longs for will eventually come true. It's about not giving up, even when things don't go well, and not letting yourself be swept up by trends. Even if the path you take is winding, long, and seemingly endless, in the end everyone reaches their destination. I wish everyone the best in fulfilling their dreams. 

The era with Blaze Bayley (ex-Iron Maiden) is legendary for SEVEN fans. How did that first contact actually happen? As a guitarist and composer, did you have to convince him a lot, or did your musical worlds click immediately?

Because we had already collaborated with Doro Pesch on our album Sevens, she was the one who arranged Blaze Bayley's appearance at the album release. We learned six of his songs, and after the first concert he was so excited that everything just fell into place. We went on to play many concerts together. Blaze even slept at my place, and we'd go to a local pub where he would sit with country bands and hum along, saying, "I know this one, it's our song."

You didn't just perform with Blaze—you also wrote music together. What was he like as a co-writer? Did he let you influence the lines, or did he have a clear "Maiden-style" vision that couldn't be altered?

Unfortunately, that kind of collaboration didn't happen.

At concerts, you also played Iron Maiden songs with Blaze. What was it like playing riffs like "The Clansman" or "Futureal" with the original voice at the microphone?

Every song we played together created an incredible feeling in me. I really love Iron Maiden, and playing their music with their singer—even a former one—is an unbelievable experience. Sometimes after a concert, when his fans came up and I heard their praise and saw how happy Blaze was, that was the best feeling a musician can have. It was also fascinating to sit and listen to stories about Iron Maiden, about Harris, how they were friends, and what it was like to join such a massive band. All those stories—those were truly unforgettable moments.

Thank you for your questions, and greetings to your readers at Rebel Sound. — Honza "Kirk" Běhunek, SEVEN 

At the very end, a big thank you goes to Kirk for his time, his kindness, and the openness with which he shared his experiences and stories with us. We greatly appreciate that he made time for our editorial team, and we wish him every success—both on and off the stage.