At seventy-seven years old, Dennis DeYoung has reached a point in his life where he no longer feels the need to keep quiet about the past.

 

 

 

 

For decades, he was the unmistakable voice and creative force behind Styx, one of the most iconic rock bands of the 1970s and 1980s.

The band’s polished harmonies, dramatic lyrics, and unforgettable stage presence created a legacy that millions still celebrate today.

Yet DeYoung has recently made a shocking admission, a revelation that changes the way fans will look at Styx forever.

With an air of both frustration and relief, he confessed that one of his bandmates “was high every day,” pulling back the curtain on the hidden truths that shaped their success and nearly tore them apart.

For many fans, Styx has always represented perfection.

Their soaring anthems, from “Come Sail Away” to “Mr. Roboto,” felt larger than life.

Audiences saw a group of men who seemed unstoppable, who could write hit after hit and dominate arenas without faltering.

But according to DeYoung, that picture-perfect image hid a reality full of chaos, tension, and addictions.

 

 

 

 

 

The man who once held the band together as a singer and songwriter now admits that he spent much of his career fighting against forces stronger than music: the lure of drugs, the ego battles, and the reckless abandon that defined the rock-and-roll lifestyle.

His claim that one of the members “was high every day” has sent shockwaves through the fan base.

While DeYoung did not reveal the name outright in his most recent statement, the implication is clear—someone within the heart of Styx lived in a haze during the band’s most important years.

To outsiders, their tours looked like triumph after triumph, but for DeYoung, it was a constant struggle to balance professionalism with the chaos happening offstage.

He described moments when recording sessions were derailed, when concerts hung by a thread, and when he wondered if the music would even survive the madness.

DeYoung has long been painted as the perfectionist of Styx, the man who demanded discipline and structure in an environment where others wanted to embrace freedom and excess.

 

 

 

 

 

 

His confession underscores just how difficult it was for him to maintain that balance.

To him, the music was sacred.

He poured himself into every lyric, every melody, believing that their songs could last for generations.

Watching a bandmate lose themselves to drugs day after day was not just heartbreaking, it was infuriating.

In his words, the dream they had built together was constantly at risk of collapsing under the weight of addiction.

Why speak out now?

DeYoung has admitted that time has given him clarity.

At seventy-seven, he is no longer concerned about protecting the band’s myth or shielding fans from the darker side of their story.

Instead, he believes the truth matters.

Fans, he insists, deserve to know what really happened behind the scenes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For too long, the polished image of Styx has hidden the sacrifices, the fights, and the near implosions that almost destroyed them.

By admitting this truth, DeYoung is not seeking revenge but rather understanding.

He wants people to realize that success does not erase struggle, and that sometimes the brightest lights hide the darkest shadows.

The revelation has reignited old debates about why Styx eventually fractured, why DeYoung was pushed out, and why the band could never fully reconcile.

His words suggest that the creative differences and personal conflicts were compounded by substance abuse that few fans ever suspected.

To the outside world, Styx looked like a well-oiled machine.

On the inside, DeYoung now admits, it was a daily battle just to keep the music alive.

The fact that they still managed to produce timeless records under those conditions is both a miracle and a testament to the raw power of their talent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fans are now re-examining the band’s history with fresh eyes.

Songs that once sounded like pure celebration now carry undertones of pain and struggle.

Lyrics about escape, loneliness, and inner conflict take on new meaning when paired with DeYoung’s confession.

What seemed like metaphor may have been autobiography, hidden in plain sight all along.

His honesty has not diminished the music—it has deepened it, giving it layers that only time and truth can reveal.

In the end, Dennis DeYoung’s revelation is not just about pointing fingers.

It is about peeling back the glamorous mask of rock-and-roll and exposing the fragile, flawed humanity beneath it.

His words remind us that behind every stage light, behind every standing ovation, there are stories of survival, conflict, and endurance.

 

 

 

 

 

By saying “he was high every day,” DeYoung has delivered a confession that is as heartbreaking as it is fascinating.

It forces fans to reconcile their love for Styx with the messy reality that shaped its sound.

What remains clear is that Styx, despite its turmoil, left an indelible mark on music history.

Dennis DeYoung’s voice and vision built a legacy that even chaos could not erase.

His willingness to finally reveal the truth shows that at seventy-seven, he values honesty above image.

For fans, his confession may be shocking, but it also makes the story of Styx more real, more human, and ultimately more unforgettable.