Decibel #230 - December 2023

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DECEMBER 2023 // No. 230

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A Celebration COVER STORY COVER AND CONTENTS PHOTOS BY SHIMON KARMEL

upfront 16 dopelord Poland is doomed

30 fuming mouth Living to see the sunset

10 metal muthas Stuffed with love

18 witching Fuck it, they’ll do it live

32 autopsy No time to kill

12 low culture Artificial desemination

20 gravesend NYC’s gory days

34 cirith ungol Reign on this parade

13 no corporate beer Brewed to brood

22 heavy load The storm returns

14 in the studio Gatecreeper are happier playing outdoors

24 sadus No deathrash shade

36 q&a: krieg Mainman Neill Jameson may not have anything to complain about, but dammit, he’ll do his best

8

news

features

Caffiends for coffee

26 rid of me A little less lonely 28 melancholia Now, we’re no big city sludge band

40 exclusive:

black metal: evolution of the cult book excerpt A blackened kingdom rises in Norway

reviews 44 exclusive:

decibel magazine metal & beer fest: denver 2023 preview Our new home away from home

48 the decibel

hall of fame With heavy metal falling out of favor in the West, Blind Guardian find success in the Far East with Imaginations From the Other Side

73 lead review Let’s be frank: Suffocation’s latest album Hymns From the Apocrypha is a damn good death metal album 74 album reviews Records from bands that are planning their finest evening wear for future Decibel cover appearances, including Mortuary Drape, Triumph of Death and Vastum 80 damage ink Smile and Eugene smiles with you

Decibel (ISSN 1557-2137) is published monthly by Red Flag Media, Inc., P.O. Box 36818, Philadelphia, PA 19107. Annual subscription price is $34.95. Periodical postage, paid at Philadelphia, PA, and other mailing offices. Submission of manuscripts, illustrations and/or photographs must be accompanied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope. The publisher assumes no responsibility for unsolicited materials. Postmaster send changes of address for Decibel to Red Flag Media, P.O. Box 36818, Philadelphia, PA 19107. © 2023 by Red Flag Media, Inc. All rights reserved.

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2 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

Even though they only split a paltry six years ago, according to a recent interview that ex-vocalist Greg Puciato conducted with an online webstore, the Dillinger Escape Plan have been routinely offered “astronomical amounts of money” to reunite and perform at major festivals. Though this claim was later debunked by former guitarist Ben Weinman, in an effort to assemble the finest lineups for our own major festivals, we’ve carefully thrown together a “totally legitimate” offer for the mathcore heroes (although we’ve yet to hear back). Dudes, text us. We can even brew you a “Sugar Coated Sour.”

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December 2023 [T230] PUBLISHER

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EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

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Kevin Diers Seattle, WA

You work at a harp and hammered dulcimer company. What’s that like?

It’s pretty awesome! I work in the shipping department and the company is fantastic.

It’s a small family-run business, but they create some beautiful, incredible instruments.

Though I don’t play the harp or hammered dulcimer, it’s really neat knowing that these instruments I ship out will be loved and cherished by a folk musician somewhere in the world.

6 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

Believe it or not, YES! I host a radio show called Metal Shop on 99.9 FM KISW, and it’s one of the longestrunning metal specialty shows on the air. There are clips on YouTube of the original host, Steve Slaton, interviewing Queensrÿche from back in 1982. So, it’s a huge honor to carry on the heavy tradition. On any given weekend I’ll throw on some Devourment, Xibalba or Hulder alongside all the classics like Iron Maiden and Slayer. I make all my own playlists, but, of course, I give priority to listener requests.

You’re also a ring announcer for a Seattle wrestling organization called DEFY Wrestling.

How does one land such a gig and are many of the wrestlers legit metalheads?

I have worked in some capacity with DEFY since they first started back in 2017. I’ve done social media and backstage interviewing, but my main role with them is the host of their podcast, The Defyant Ones. From time to time I fill in as a ring announcer, and it’s an absolute BLAST! I have been

a lifelong fan of wrestling, and it’s been amazing to be involved and help out. The way I got involved was just an offer to help in any way they needed and just continue to hustle, adapt and be consistent. There are a ton of wrestlers that are metalheads—Brody King in AEW sings for the hardcore band God’s Hate, Matthew Justice is a huge fan of bands like Crowbar and Down, Edge loves Slayer, and ECW legend Jerry Lynn is a serious death metal head who used to wear Dying Fetus shirts to the ring.

I host a radio show called Metal Shop on 99.9 FM KISW, and it’s one of the longest-running metal specialty shows on the air… it’s a huge honor to carry on the heavy tradition.

Your Facebook profile still links your Myspace account in your bio. Without looking, name three people in your Top 8.

Oh, man—that’s pretty embarrassing. I would imagine my old college radio show Dead Air is in my Top 8, along with my friend and radio co-host Ian and… Tom?

Chuck BB is the illustrator of the graphic novels Black Metal, Vol. 1, 2 and 3 . For more info and art, head over to chuckbb.com

PHOTO BY WEST SMITH

You’re also a DJ at a Seattle rock station.

Do you have any leeway to play anything legit heavy/extreme, or do you have to throw your hands in the air and act like Riki Rachtman in 1991 when viewers wrote into Headbangers Ball asking for more Napalm Death videos?

CONCEPT CAFES

TOMB OF THE CONCEPT CAFES’ death metal and coffee collabs deliver a relentless beaning

THE

vision behind made-to-order coffee company

Concept Cafes is pretty simple: creating the most brutal coffee in the world. No big deal, right? Although this Orlando-based operation is quite young, they’ve managed to line up some impressive collaborators from the metal world, developing private labels with Cannibal Corpse (organic Bali Blue Moon), Max and Iggor Cavalera (Brazilian beans, of course), and Chris Garza of Suicide Silence (a Mexico-Java blend to celebrate his podcast). The company always strives to roast and ship the beans within seven to 10 days of ordering to ensure maximum brewtality. “Our mantra is to always swing for the fences in everything we do… you only get so many times at bat,” explains co-owner Michael Tonsetic. ¶ Concept Cafes was incubated during the early phase of the pandemic, while Tonsetic was self-medicating with coffee and death metal. His enthusiasm for the genre has been unwavering over the last 25 years. “I think death metal, and metal in general, is in a renaissance, and I feel like what we’re doing with Concept Cafes is being inspired and fueled by that music,” he observes. “We’re only about a full year into committing to all of this chaos, and the way death metal is exploding around the world, we’ll still be roasting from the grave.”

8 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

Tonsetic is quick to point out that the artists who have chosen to partner with Concept Cafes are 100 percent involved in the selection of the single-origin beans or multi-bean blends for the coffee, and immersed in the packaging design to boot. It’s a highly collaborative, iterative and sometimes slow process, owing to the artists’ schedules. Case in point: “Beheading & Brewing,” an official Cannibal Corpse coffee (now also available in 12 oz. nitro cold brew cans), with input from the band on the sourcing of the beans and roast level, plus super-sick graphics from longtime Cannibal Corpse cover artist Vince Locke.

“We are very adamant about never subjecting the fans to some random generic licensing bid,” notes Tonsetic. The private label beans/blends currently on offer on the Concept Cafes website are a fraction of the concepts that the company has pitched out, but Tonsetic is fiercely loyal to the artists that have chosen to work with them thus

far: “This is always about the fans first, and, in turn, the artist. It’s a responsibility we take extremely seriously, hence we are very meticulous in making sure everything is in line with how the artists want to present themselves to their fans around the world.”

Partnerships are also key to maintaining agility, with a sister company (Coterie Coffee Co.) that roasts the beans, allowing Concept Cafes to develop and produce the private labels under one roof.

Tonsetic acknowledges the challenges of giving an organic, fairtrade, ethically sourced makeover to a conventionally marketed consumable, particularly when it comes to paying a little more as a consumer.

“Of course, we don’t expect the fans to blow $100 on a single bag of coffee,” he adds. “We think of the Concept Cafes labels as limitedrelease vinyl pressings, something that allows you to immerse yourself in an entire experience.”

—NICK GREEN

NOW SLAYING Wonder what Decibel world HQ has been rocking for the past month?

Well, here are the records that we spun most while being genuinely moved that the oooh-wah-ah-ah-ah guy got his dog back

Because not all of us were spawned in the darkest recesses of hell

This Month’s Mutha: Cathy Schultz Mutha of Carl Schultz of Action! PR

Tell us a little about yourself.

I am 79. My husband and I raised four boys and parented another for several years. We have four grandchildren. After the boys were all in school, I worked in elementary schools, where I ran the computer lab. I love to cook, read, grow flowers, play word games and, in recent years, have enjoyed sewing again. My granddaughter and I have recently tried and had fun with basic quilting.

Did Carl have an affection for heavy music at a young age, or did he develop that later?

Looking back, I guess he sure started early! He came home from first or second grade with drawings of Ratt and KISS logos. I told him they bit the heads off bats, but I guess that didn’t deter him! He and his friend made cardboard guitars and “played” them to their favorite songs. When he was a young teenager, his dad took Carl and his brother to their first live metal concert.

It was a learning experience for all!

What were some of his non-music interests as a child?

He loved horror movies, video games, comic books and his Monday Night Football games. Halloween was and still is his favorite holiday. Even the adults in the neighborhood were impressed with the haunted woods he and his brothers set up!

He could read at 4 and was very good in art. He 10 : D E C E M B E R 2 0 2 3 : D E C I B E L

played baseball and soccer. We had many memorable moments watching him as goalie!

One of the most beloved albums your son performed on is called Frozen Corpse Stuffed With Dope. Thoughts?

Even though Carl loves this music, I am not really a fan of it. But I appreciate the creativity in the titles!

Your son runs a PR company with some of the biggest names in extreme music as clients.

Was this career path a surprise to you?

Not really. He was always good with words! I knew he loved metal music and dealing with people. He could carry on a conversation at 18 months! He worked at Streetside Records all through college and was well known for his knowledge of heavy metal music.

What accomplishment of Carl’s are you proudest of and why?

Well, he moved away and left all he had known to pursue his job at Relapse. That was gutsy!

Then later, he started his own PR company, which was a big and brave step. It’s always difficult leaving that which is routine and familiar for new horizons. That takes courage. I am also proud that he is such a kind and upbeat person.

He enjoys the little things in life and always sees a silver lining in the clouds. —ANDREW BONAZELLI

Albert Mudrian : e d i t o r i n c h i e f  Cruciamentum, Obsidian Refractions  Autopsy, Ashes, Organs, Blood and Crypts  Sleater-Kinney, Dig Me Out  Disguised Malignance, Entering the Gateways  Beyond Dawn, Longing for Scarlet Days ---------------------------------Patty Moran : c u s t o m e r s e r v i c e  Bathory, Bathory  Slayer, Seasons in the Abyss  Sepultura, Beneath the Remains  D.R.I., Thrash Zone  Bl'ast!, It’s In My Blood!

---------------------------------James Lewis : a d s a l e s  Agalloch, The Serpent & the Sphere  Suffocation, Hymns From the Apocrypha  Panopticon, …and Again into the Light  Cruciamentum, Obsidian Refractions  Terrorizer, World Downfall ---------------------------------Mike Wohlberg : a r t d i r e c t o r  Tomb Mold, The Enduring Spirit  Baroness, Stone  Blood Incantation, Luminescent Bridge  Antichrist Siege Machine, Purifying Blade  Fuming Mouth, Last Day of the Sun ---------------------------------Aaron Salsbury : m a r k e t i n g a n d s a l e s  Tomb Mold, The Enduring Spirit  Various Artists, Kuma’s Corner Indy Presents: Wise Blood Records 2022 Compilation  An Albatross, We Are the Lazer Viking  The Locust, Plague Soundscapes  L.O.T.I.O.N., Desert E Remix Lathe Cut 7-inch

GUEST SLAYER

---------------------------------Jake Murphy : f i n a l g a s p  Deru, We Will Live On  Dead Heat, Endless Torment  The Ruts, The Crack  Innumerable Forms, The Fall Down  Greet Death, “I Hate Everything”

Fuck Off, Nowadays “Rich Men North of Richmond” was in line at the pharmacy, picking up

one of my five prescriptions (three for mental health, two for migraine, just in case you’re keeping score at home), when a woman in the line next to me asked for Plan B. Considering it was a Saturday morning, that seems like it would be a pretty good seller, and I applaud the responsibility there; but when they offered her a coupon, her answer stopped whatever train of thought I had rattling around in my head.

“I can’t use that; I’m an Instacart shopper.”

This woman wasn’t even buying the cum killer (I’m sure that’s the medical term) for herself, but for someone who was, presumably, at home nursing a hangover and more than a few regrets. Or maybe this was just a normal part of someone’s weekly shopping list, penciled right between oat milk and biscotti. Either way, both the impersonal nature of the transaction as well as what I imagined it would be when she dropped the baby bomb off at its destination gave me the realization that we’re living in the future, albeit not the one we were promised.

The day before, my psychiatrist—after going over the rundown on how this shit I toss into my body in the morning and at bedtime was working (perfectly fine)—let me know that she was closing her practice in a month, mostly because she started it with her husband, and their divorce wasn’t a part of their business plan. She told me she would send me links to potential new psychiatrists, but they probably weren’t accepting new patients or—and this makes me have to shit— patients with insurance. After some fun banter back and forth, I broached the subject of telehealth, not just for me, but for all her patients who might have an issue finding a new doctor, which she hadn’t thought of. This strikes me as odd since I’m at least 15 years older than her and I never graduated college. So, that’s a suggestion she’s sending to her patients. Again, we’re in the future, but not the one we were promised.

12 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

I bring both of these instances up not just because they happened within 48 hours of me writing this (and my memory isn’t fantastic; probably the result of one of the five pills I outlined above), but to illustrate how painfully impersonal everything has become. And this extends itself into music and art as well, with the discourse around AI beginning its somewhat rapid ascent into artwork, writing and—inevitably—music itself. It feels like only the underground subcultures of music and art are the ones vehemently opposed to this. Well, except the shitty bands and labels using AI cover art, which throws my point askew, but you get the idea.

Everyone else, especially the same people whose entire social media post history talks about “the enemies of America” or Biden’s cracksmoking dunce of a kid, can’t seem to keep the dicks of people like Elon Musk out of their mouths when it comes to the issue. The same folks concerned about government overreach seem totally fine with corporate and tech slipping a finger or three into any facet that makes life special or even just fucking bearable.

So, the point is that it’s still important to support artists, writers and musicians who actually create something. Even that ginger cunt referenced in this month’s title—content notwithstanding—based entirely on him crafting his own bullshit and not some computer.

And fuck off with that whole, “but people made the programs, so it’s an art” response because that’s a limp argument based entirely on semantics. With so much recent talk about “industry plants,” people are missing the actual industry corruptors trying to replace any ounce of human creativity with an algorithm.

We were promised flying cars. Instead, we have billionaires and computer programs telling us what to find aesthetically and emotionally pleasing. We’re living in the future and it’s sure as shit not what we were promised.

AN

NEY ISEM

T

BY COUR

CocktailInspired Beers Are Growing Up

F

lavors and aromas of cocktails

show up not infrequently in craft beer, whether you pick up on them yourself or a brewery leans into the similarities in their marketing. Most commonly, ales somewhere on the sour and/or funky scale are brewed with fruity cocktails in mind. There’s the Margarita Sour from Hi-Wire Brewing in Asheville, NC; and the Margarita Gose from Tampa’s Cigar City Brewing. In Downingtown, PA, Victory Brewing Company makes a Paloma Ale; fellow Pennsylvanians Tröegs Independent Brewing have brewed a Paloma Ale, too, and so does a Blanco, TX brewery called Real Ale Brewing. Sierra Nevada applies its own hopcentric identity to the category with a West Coast IPA inspired by the paloma.

Lately, though, cocktail- and spiritinspired beers are getting a little moodier.

Finding crossover between the citrus notes of margaritas and palomas and those of hops and yeast’s esters isn’t too big a reach.

Plus, of course, there’s an entire genre of beer that’s barrel-aged, naturally flaunting the characteristics of its barrel’s previous occupant. Now, brewers are thinking a bit more complex. After all, the bitter world of amaro, with liqueurs often boasting dozens of botanical ingredients, has taken the cocktail scene by storm, a new generation of drinkers embracing everything from the ubiquitous Aperol spritz to cocktails like the Paper Plane to straight shots of Fernet Branca. It stands to reason, then, that these

 Witchcraft brew Fox Farm Brewery’s Witch Meadow Black keeps your spirits sufficiently moody

cocktail-arena trends eventually make their way over to beer.

Brewers’ offerings in this current realm are subsequently more intricate. While presently on hiatus, Springdale Beer Company (the ale arm of Jack’s Abby Craft Lagers in Framingham, MA) helped spark this trend with their bottled “Not Stirred” series, featuring a Negroni Ale, barrel-aged on orange zest, juniper berries, vanilla and cranberry juice; and The Sun Will Come Out Amaro, a whiskey barrel-aged ale with amaro botanicals. Placentia, CA’s the Bruery brewed Amore Amaro, a Fernet and rum barrel-aged sour ale with turbinado sugar, orange zest and lime. Like Springdale’s offerings, it was bottled and sold at a higher price point ($28), a special-occasion, could-be-cellared splurge.

Unlike canned margarita and paloma ales, but like bourbon barrel-aged stouts, these more nuanced cocktail beers are presented as beers beyond the everyday options.

At Allagash Brewing Company in Portland, ME, Day’s End is a 9.5% bourbon barrel-aged ale with Lambrusco grape must, Angelica root and orange peel. It’s a product of the brewery’s pilot system, says Allagash senior communication specialist Brett Willis, where any employee can suggest a beer idea, which is then judged blind by the Pilot Team; top picks get brewed, voted on by staff, poured at the brewery and, if popular, released nationally (like Day’s End). Allagash nailed the Boulevardier’s sweet vermouth, Campari, and orange peel twist with Lambrusco grape must,

Angelica root and bitter orange peel. They then aged the beer in bourbon barrels for eight weeks for the cocktail’s bourbon factor.

Oxbow Brewing Company’s Amaro di Malto dials into a specific spirit, striking an uncanny Fernet Branca chord. The brewery’s director of sales, Greg Jasgur, calls an amaro-inspired beer “a natural fit for us,” explaining Oxbow has always brewed “new-world takes on old-world styles.” Brewers achieved the complex flavorand-aroma profile with 23 different herbs and spices, most locally sourced. “Amaro di Malto has all the flavors of an alpine amaro laid atop a base of a malty dark barrel-aged ale.”

Meanwhile, in Salem, CT, Fox Farm Brewery has brewed up a special, one-off (for now, stay tuned) barrel-aged stout inspired by Nocino.

Witch Meadow Black is an adjunct riff that accompanies the brewery’s annual Witch Meadow barrel-aged stout release, and this year, it will pay homage to the Italian liqueur made from unripe walnuts. Fox Farm cofounder Zack Adams is excited about some of the background behind Nocino, too. “We started the project strictly on… wanting to make a Nocino stout, but have since learned [about] ancient history/ folklore of Nocino being made by witches in June with the results first being sampled on the eve of All Saints’ Day, October 31.”

If cocktail-inspired beers are getting broodier, Witch Meadow Black’s spooky vibes definitely take the cake. If you’ve avoided beers boasting cocktail notes in the past, fearing cloying tropical copies, now’s the time to give this category a second look.

DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 13

GATECREEPER

STUDIO REPORT

GATECREEPER

B

ALBUM TITLE

TBD The untitled album marks STUDIO singing their songs. Arizona death metal staples Gatecreeper realized the fifth time Gatecreeper have they needed more material that translated to a big stage. The band’s worked with Kurt Ballou, but GodCity, Salem, MA third full-length—due tentatively next spring—is meant to provide the first time Ballou has run the RECORDING DATE arena-ready moments without straying from what got them to those stages in show. “We had a lot of the producJuly 2023 the first place. tion ideas figured out and made ENGINEER “We’ve been a band for 10 years and are playing to new audiences and at some creative decisions before we Kurt Ballou big European outdoor festivals,” vocalist Chase Mason says. “Playing on those went to the studio,” Mason says.

LABEL stages changed our outlook. This album is for the big stage. We wanted to do “Kurt is known for getting great Nuclear Blast what we’ve always done better than before. We also looked at it from the perguitar tones. It’s cool to finally be RELEASE DATE spective that we are playing to more people. The goal is to reach many new in the studio with his amps and Spring 2024 people and streamline the album.” gear and dial in these sounds. He Mason says that Gatecreeper have always (roughly) followed rock song strucstill had a lot of ideas for little tures with verses, choruses and guitar hooks. That hasn’t changed; the band has just worked to touches in the songs and guitar tones.” make every song doubly infectious. “Spoiler alert: There are no clean vocals,” Mason laughs. “I Gatecreeper first signed with Nuclear Blast shortly did try to make the vocals catchier so we could imagine 10,000 people singing along.” before the pandemic; this is their first full album for The new album also marks a shift: Mason writes many lyrics from a first-person perspective. In the label. Mason says the label waited after the band the past, Gatecreeper albums were a buffet of topics like personal issues, horror and traditional decided to shake off their tour rust before recording. death metal themes. Mason started writing more from experience on the 2021 EP An Unexpected “After the shutdown was over, we wanted to tour Reality and enjoyed it. His readings on Arizona superstition also influenced him. “I got a lot out of for a while and they were very patient,” he says. writing from the first person and decided to do it more,” he said. “One thing that has been on my “I’m excited to see what they do with this record.” mind is superstition and everything under that banner, whether it is luck or divination.”

—JUSTIN M. NORTON ands learn things when they hear a field of European metalheads

14 : D E C E M B E R 2 0 2 3 : D E C I B E L

DOPELORD

DOPELORD

Slo-mo occultists put Poland on the doom metal map

P

oland is known for many contributions to the metallic arts, but the country isn’t exactly synonymous with doom metal. Dopelord noticed that and saw an opening. ¶ “In 2010, there was only one polish stoner doom band, and we didn’t even know it existed,” bassist/vocalist Piotr Zin tells us. “So, we just wanted to play the music that we were listening to at that time. And that was the time when the first Windhand demo came out, and Ritual Abuse by Cough. We’re listening to Electric Wizard and Sleep, and we just realized that nobody’s playing such music in Poland. And we just decided we should do it for the sake of, well, maybe if we will organize a gig or promote some abroad bands in our hometown, maybe we will be able to sneak in as a support band or whatever. And that actually came through.” ¶ Thirteen years later, the band prepares to release its excellent fifth album, Songs for Satan, their first on Blues Funeral—actually their first on any label, despite their previous releases gaining them an international following.

16 : DECEMBER 202 3 : DECIBEL

Zin laughs about how much more popular his band was outside his home country: “There was a time that we were touring Europe and still playing in Poland for like 20 people. So, that was a bit strange.

And we had people from Poland writing us messages, like regarding merch or anything, in English, because they thought we were a band from the U.S.” Some recent tours supporting Vader have helped raise their profile. “We will see these totally death metal fans at stoner and psychedelic concerts with bands that they are not particularly interested in,” Zin relates. “But they were like, ‘Yeah, man, I saw you playing before Vader and I liked you guys and I’m gonna visit every gig you play in my hometown.’”

The new album should help them do that even more. Six devilishly

catchy tunes (and an intro) that, in their own words, don’t reinvent the wheel, but do provide listeners with the kind of murky, candlelit stoner doom perfect for summoning demons. Or at least smoking a bunch of pot and watching some Mario Bava movies—although Zin professes not to be a fan of horror flicks. As a lapsed Catholic, he has his own reasons for writing songs for Satan.

“Nowadays, [we use occult imagery] mostly because it disturbs the people that we don’t like,” he explains. “It’s not that we’re like, Satanists; gonna do some black mass afterwards and whatever. The whole occult, black magic imagery is just, like, very appealing. And if, by the way, it disturbs anybody that is, like, very narrow-minded, maybe it will force him at some point to maybe, I don’t know, read something or whatever.” —JEFF TREPPEL

WITCHING

E

verything is coming together for Philly metal staple Witching. Formed in 2016 and performing with a recently updated lineup, the quintet are poised to release album number two, Incendium, this fall, and will soon find themselves on their first European tour. ¶ Vocalist Jacqui Powell is busy getting things ready for tour, but she’s excited that things are taking off for Witching, her first serious band. ¶ “I feel like I’m constantly learning something every day being in a band like this,” she explains. ¶ “I didn’t go into Witching like, ‘Oh, I need to do this, this and this.’ I literally had no idea what I was doing.” ¶ Powell’s expectations are firmly in check, remembering the band’s early days of finding their sound (and her voice), but Witching are just getting out of first gear. ¶ “I just want to keep going,” the singer asserts. “I want to see how far this band can go.” ¶ The writing process for Incendium was spearheaded by current guitarist Nate Zagrimanis and

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former guitarist Lev Ziskind, who outlined the songs before bringing them to the band to flesh out.

“Nate comes in and shows us and plays the songs,” Powell says, “and it’s these beautiful five-, six-minute songs. These beautiful compositions, and I’m just like, ‘Holy shit.’

And then we started plugging in the other instruments.”

While their debut album, Vernal, reflects lived experiences, Incendium says goodbye to an old chapter in the band members’ lives.

“I want to say some of the music is about saying goodbye to yourself, breaking a part of that person away from you. It’s about how, for me, it’s sad letting go of some of myself to become a better person because I’ve been so used to living a certain way. When people have to change, they’re grieving a way that they’re used to living.”

The wheels keep on turning.

Even as they bring their new songs into the world, Zagrimanis has already begun preparing material for LP3. Powell shares that the band has many new things on the horizon, but she can’t publicly spill the beans just yet.

If the members feel nervous about all these firsts, Powell isn’t letting on. In fact, she welcomes the opportunity to drop the barriers and embrace the vulnerability of the stage.

“When I’m playing Witching songs live, I feel like I’m being my most honest self, and I think it’s important for me to do that because every other part of my life, I feel like I come off as ‘I’m fine, everything’s great,’ but Witching is like my diary.

It’s where I get to be fucking angry and sad and no one can get upset at me for it.” —EMILY BELLINO

PHOTO BY GENE SMIRNOV

WITCHING

Doom and death dealers cast away the spells of the past

GRAVESEND

GRAVESEND

Grind force descends into the tortured bowels of NYC on their sophomore slaughter

F

rom the muck and the mire of New York City comes the unrivaled chaotic stylings of Gravesend, a collective of worshippers to the grind, black, war and bestial arts who hold a lens to the flayed flesh of our sociopolitical reality. ¶ “For me, personally, I was hoping that we’d be able to capture the same griminess and darkness that we did in the first one [2021’s Methods of Human Disposal] and just that depressive overall state,” shares vocalist/guitarist A ahead of the band’s sophomore album Gowanus Death Stomp. “It was weird—we saw the transition of New York City kind of regressing somewhat to the aesthetic we were trying to capture of New York City in the ’70s and ’80s on the first record. We’re just trying to emulate that with this record, essentially.” ¶ The sonic embodiment of William Lustig’s Maniac, Gowanus Death Stomp is an auditory gut punch, a frenzied, sullen and unrelentingly heavy listen steeped in the experiences and influences of the unnamed trio of A, S and G.

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“For me, musically, I think the band is trying to find a middle ground between grind and bestial and war metal-type stuff,” says bassist S. “A lot of the time, people will compare grind and war metal and black death and it all kind of melts together, but I feel like there’s a middle ground between the two that a lot of bands don’t touch on. I think, at least from my perspective, that’s what we’re trying to do.”

Once again recruiting Arthur Rizk (Tomb Mold, Dream Unending) for recording, mixing and mastering duties, Gowanus Death Stomp serves up cruel slices of depravity that fully land in the wheelhouse of the macabre Gravesend cocktail.

“We are slowly expanding in our kind of agreed-upon aesthetic,” explains drummer G. “I’d say this

record touches more on the whole mafia underworld. So, essentially, if the first record was very crime and filth, this kind of just expands on crime and filth into other subgenres of the shadiness of New York City’s yesteryear. And even today.”

From “Even a Worm Will Turn” and “Festering in Squalor,” to their nod and a wink to rat czars, “Vermin Victory,” Gravesend have captured a side of the city rarely seen in glossy adverts and tourist photobombs.

“It just captures the street-level angst and depression that you might encounter,” A says in closing, “but it’s a little bit more on the surface now than it was prior.”

The streets speak, and their sound is brutal. —DILLON COLLINS

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NOISE FOR HALLOWEEN NIGHT

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BLASPHEMY, DEPARTURE CHANDELIER, SABBAT, ABIGAIL, SEX MESSIAH, DEATH WORSHIP, WITCHCRAFT, BLOODY VENGEANCE, EVIL, GENOCIDE ORGAN, MASONNA, AGONAL LUST, THIRDORGAN, LINEKRAFT, CULT OF YOUTH, OLD TOWER, SKIN CRIME, LUSSURIA, YELLOW GAS FLAMES, PRURIENT

HEAVY LOAD

HEAVY LOAD

Swedish metal pioneers return from 40-year absence with new epics

THE

brothers wahlquist—Ragne (guitar/vocals) and Styrbjörn (drums/vocals)—who founded Heavy Load in the ’70s, are some of the most important musicians in Swedish metal history.

Actively discouraged by the record industry to pursue the music they loved so passionately, they ignored the advice they received and soldiered on. ¶ “During the ’70s, when we started, no foreign hard rock or heavy metal bands were ever played on the radio [in Sweden],” Styrbjörn tells us via email. “It was impossible to get a record deal. A record company executive told us, ‘A Swedish band playing music in the vein of Black Sabbath and [Deep] Purple has no future. Hard rock is dead and will never come back.’” ¶ Heavy Load disagreed and released their debut, Full Speed at High Level, in 1978 on the short-lived Swedish label Heavy Sounds before opening their own Thunderload recording studio and starting a label of the same name. It didn’t matter that the suits didn’t believe in Heavy Load; they had enough confidence in the music they were making—classic European power metal—and motivation to market it that they weren’t going to be stopped.

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The label and studio have been an important part of the Swedish metal scene for decades since.

Heavy Load’s next two albums— Death or Glory (1982) and Stronger Than Evil (1983)—were issued on Thunderload and found great acclaim in England and Europe, while their studio has hosted a who’s who of Swedish metal musicians over the years—from Yngwie Malmsteen to Candlemass to Morbid to Hammerfall, and many others.

A flood at the studio in 2000, however, pushed the Wahlquists out of the music business. They started families, got academic degrees and moved on, unaware that Heavy Load’s legend was ever growing, especially in Greece. “We were approached

by Chris Papadatos of No Remorse Records in Athens in 2016,” explains Styrbjörn. “He wanted [to do] official re-releases of our old records.”

That same year they were invited to the Up the Hammers festival in Greece to receive a Medal of Honor award (not to play),

where they watched a Heavy Load tribute band, Heathens From the North. “When I experienced them playing our songs with such a great passion, I was immensely moved,” says Styrbjörn. “This experience ignited the flame in me. [Back] home [in] Sweden, I conveyed this sentiment to Ragne, and the flame was kindled in him as well.”

The result is that Thunderload (the studio) is back up and running, and there’s a brand new Heavy Load album, Riders of the Ancient Storm, written and recorded by the Wahlquists, with help from longtime bassist Torbjörn Ragnesjö (the Wahlquists’ cousin) and guitarist Niclas Sunnerberg. It’s the first album of new material in 40 years— set for release on No Remorse—and Heavy Load have certainly proven that metal endures.

“What Heavy Load was, or stood for, [initially has] continued to live on its own,” says Ragne, “through the fans who kept the fire alive.”

—ADEM TEPEDELEN

A 40 th ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION OF THE SIXTH STUDIO ALBUM FROM THE LOUDEST BAND OF ALL TIME

Including: Hardback book-packs in two CD and triple LP formats, featuring an amplifier blowing remaster of the original album.

Previously unreleased demo bonus tracks and a previously unreleased, full concert recorded at Hull City Hall on 22nd June 1983.

The story of the album and many unseen photos.

Limited edition, orange and yellow swirl of the original standalone album.

OUT NOVEMBER 3rd 2023

DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 23

SADUS

SADUS

Incomparable death-thrashers remerge as a destructive duo

W

hen sadus released their fifth album, Out for Blood, in 2006, the world was different. That was 17 years ago, a veritable lifetime in Decibel’s extremely extreme universe. The storied, genre-blending thrash-death trailblazers have returned from exile (again) with their new album, The Shadow Inside, still as pissed-off, antagonistic and razor-sharp as ever. ¶ Life changes and a continuously chaotic world have filled the Antioch, CA-based duo of drummer Jon Allen and guitarist/vocalist Darren Travis with the same rage that made their late-’80s/early-’90s output so caustic. This time, Sadus are without their lifelong friend, bandmate and low-end magician Steve DiGiorgio. ¶ “There’s absolutely no ill will with Steve not being in Sadus,” says Allen of his former bandmate. “Everything’s cool. He’s just extremely busy.

Steve’s welcome to step back in Sadus at any time. I can assure fans they will hear the bass and that it sounds old-school.

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As everyone knows, riffs are the most important thing in a metal album, but without bass, they sound pretty lame.”

The Shadow Inside finds the Sadus principals at their most direct.

No, this isn’t Swallowed in Black Part II, or a revisit of Elements of Anger’s experiments. A retread of either of those albums would contradict Travis and Allen’s maxim of individuality, a trait that essentially worked for (and against) Sadus throughout the years. Instead, Travis, with his rapid-fire right hand and neoteric aggro-prog mind front and center, got Allen in a room (just like the old days), and they started banging out the framework of The Shadow Inside. Together, they wrote rippers like “It’s the Sickness,” “Ride the Knife,” “No Peace” and “First Blood.”

“DiGiorgio not being in the band gave it a different dimension,”

Allen says. “Before, we had keyboards. We’ve always been open to everyone’s ideas—the ‘art canvas’ style—which has been obvious.

With keyboards no longer in the mix, we had to fill those parts with guitars and other instruments. OK, we didn’t have keyboards on the first two albums. In a way, it made sense to go back to that. Also, since we were jamming together a lot, it evolved with only our input. There were fewer cooks in the kitchen this time. Plus, Darren and I have been working together so long that when we write and bounce ideas off one another, we know where it’ll go or where to take it.”

The Shadow Inside sports the fast stuff (“First Blood,” “Anarchy”) and the catchy stuff (“Scorched and Burnt,” “Pain”), and even nods to their venerable friends in Tampa (the title track). Death to posers!

Sadus are back! —CHRIS DICK

RID OF ME

Philly noise rock quartet is gonna twist your head off, see

A

ccess to the lonely is only the sophomore album from noise-rocking punks Rid of Me, but it feels like they’ve been together for a lot longer than that. In a way, they have; the Philly quartet—bassist/vocalist Itarya Rosenberg, guitarists Mike McGinnis and new arrival John DeHart, and drummer Mike Howard—are descended from local noise rock royalty Fight Amp and Low Dose, among other bands. ¶ Prior to Access to the Lonely, Rid of Me contained the core trio of Rosenberg, McGinnis and Howard. Various friends and musicians filled the role of second guitar, but when DeHart played with the band for the first time, Rid of Me knew instantly that he was the fourth member. ¶ “We convinced John to play a show with us and he had a great time and loved a bunch of the new stuff that we had already written,” Rosenberg tells Decibel. “He kind of joined the band in the process of writing the record, and it was seamless.” ¶ Having known each other and being familiar with each other as musicians made the writing and recording process for

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Access to the Lonely a significantly easier process for the band, who stress the importance of demoing and recording songs before entering the studio proper. Rosenberg says the main thing they took from first album Traveling is that they’re just better at being a band now.

“We’re just getting better at it and knowing what it is that is more our vibe,” he says. “We also really like to not limit ourselves to anything. Our only rule is to play whatever the fuck we want, so we try to include a lot more influences on the new record and go into forays that maybe we haven’t explored. We’re just trying to keep growing and doing our thing, allowing what inspires us to manifest creatively.”

The singer-bassist also notes that the members of Rid of Me get along very well and have similar tastes in music, which makes exploring new

directions—like the heavier nature of Access to the Lonely compared to its predecessor—relatively natural.

The band says it wasn’t an active choice to write a heavier record, but the recording—mixed by Kowloon Walled City’s Scott Evans and mastered by noise rock vet Matt Barnhart—better displays their real, live sound.

At their core, Rid of Me want things to be real. That goes for the lyrics and the music. Rosenberg is the principal lyricist and writes about his own life experiences because the intimacy creates a community between listeners and band.

“That’s something I think is really beautiful and important about music,” he muses. “It’s a place of catharsis, it’s a place of wanting to relate, it’s a place of shared experiences and everybody wants to sing along or rock out in their fucking car.” —EMILY BELLINO

PHOTO BY MARK DIEHL

RID OF ME

MELANCHOLIA

Blackened sludgecore duo embrace dread together

J

ust south of the Canadian border and a couple hours north of Seattle, the town of Bellingham, WA is not a big touring stop for bands. But if they won’t come to them, the town is creating their own underground extreme music, with new, younger bands playing house shows and skate parks, building the scene. Blackened sludgecore duo Melancholia are practically veterans, having already released a handful of EPs, but those were just warm up for their debut full-length, Book of Ruination. ¶ “Our first two EPs were more hardcore, and the third one was more midtempo, basically one 20-minute song,” says vocalist/guitarist Gage Lindsay. “For this record, I wanted to take everything we’ve done, all those styles, and unify them.” ¶ The result is something totally cohesive, but never predictable, Lindsay shredding through contorted riffs as confidently as he plumbs the abyss while drummer Noah Burns blasts, D-beats and glacially bashes in precision lockstep.

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But as this isn’t a traditional black metal or grind band, there may be concerns the guitar/drum setup is missing something. Lindsay doesn’t see it that way.

“When I was starting this project, it was coming off some failed bands,” he says. “I kept losing members and wondering what I can do to make it work. When I decided this was the project I wanted to do, Noah and I just spent time refining.

I tune low and have a bass setup I play through live. I really enjoy how simple it is. It’s an easy setup and teardown, and the van is only half-full for any given show.”

More of that DIY attitude is present when it comes to the art that Lindsay creates himself, which he spent a painstaking amount of time on for the LP cover, an unnerving but gorgeous image.

“I have a very rigid style,” he says. “Black and white, skeletons

without facial features. But this in particular, I wanted it to be one of the most intricate and detailed pieces I’ve ever made. I’m terrible at calculating hours, but it took me a long time. It looks gnarly, but it’s kind of beautiful in this floral way. The album is really aggressive and extreme in parts, but there are a lot of melodic parts, too. We needed artwork that represents that.”

The band is aiming for a West Coast tour next spring, but Lindsay admits they don’t expect to be hitting the road very often.

Book of Ruination, though, is good enough to spread the gospel of Melancholia far and wide. And back home in Bellingham, as the scene continues to grow, there are plenty of people who appreciate getting to witness something this devastating in their backyard.

—SHANE MEHLING

PHOTO BY BYRON GOUETTE

MELANCHOLIA

frontman MARK WHELAN returns from the brink of darkness with a new lease on life and death metal S T O R Y

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hour into our conversation about his band’s highly antici-

pated second album, Mark Whelan, Fuming Mouth’s founding frontman, opens up about his recent battle with cancer. ¶ “There were so many painful moments,” he admits. “I had 13 biopsies where they put a drill into my bone. You have to be awake for that. There’s no real way of figuring out pain management for that. The actual cancer itself was painful.” ¶ In November 2021, only three weeks before Fuming Mouth returned to GodCity Studio to record what even then was to be known as Last Day of Sun, Whelan was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), a type of blood cancer. “That’s why you have the bone marrow transplant,” he says. “You get rid of the old blood, then you have the new blood made from the bone marrow from the other person. That way it’s cancer-free.”

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Whelan is still with us, to tell his story of how he overcame the emperor of maladies. But smooth sailing it was not. “There was a complication where I bled out all over my hospital bed during one of the biopsies,” he relates, grisly details of a torturous year belying his friendly tone. “This [was] before I even had the chemo or the transplant. Once it came down to the transplant, that was the most painful. I had to be isolated in a room alone for 40 days. I could not leave the room. I had a convulsion or a seizure. I almost died, or I did die.”

Last Day of Sun was finished before Whelan’s diagnosis, although it wasn’t the album you’ll lose your mind and break your neck headbanging

to now. “Most of it was done, or at least written,” he explains. “I had treatment and I had chemo, but then we lost the donor because of [complications due to] COVID. We had to wait to get my bone marrow transplant. During that wait, I was just playing all the material on the guitar and I started moving everything around. I started reworking, rewriting everything. So much of it did change, even though the bulk of it was written before I got diagnosed. Once it happened and there was that downtime… I don’t wanna call it downtime because I just re-orked everything.”

There is one new track that emerged during Whelan’s treatment and recovery period. One of the hardest-hitting songs on Last Day of Sun, which Whelan tells us, is the only one on the album directly about his experience with cancer.

Otherwise, it’s all just an eerie case of life imitating art in a harrowing, too-real way. But for “Kill the Disease,” Whelan says he “mouthed [the song] into [the] Voice Memos” app on his phone during the seventh day of getting heavy chemotherapy.

“Mouthed the lyrics. The whole thing,” he continues. “Night after night I was sleepless.

I couldn’t sleep because I was getting chemotherapy four times a day. I was just trying to keep myself motivated and I sang that [song] into my phone.”

Whelan says the album was a “major distraction” from the miseries of his battle against

cancer: “There was an overwhelming amount of support from the Fuming Mouth fanbase.

Whether it was somebody else who was sick and was going through—or they already went through—what I went through, or people just sharing their actual thoughts and feelings about Fuming Mouth and what it meant to them, and I just never knew how important it was to so many people. They were so supportive. I think all that support from those people was one more reason I knew I couldn’t give up.”

Whelan was declared cancer-free in August 2022. “Once I went through my treatment, it was just like, ‘I don’t care anymore,’” he says. “I’m going to do what I do best, and that is play highgain metal. I’m just gonna crank it, put my HM-2 pedal on and let it rip.” The so-called downtime also gave him an opportunity to think about how he really wanted Last Day of Sun to sound.

“I really wanted to get a lot of classic tones and get a lot of classic ideas from death metal bands I love,” Whelan says. “Bands that led to death metal. Bands that I was listening to at the time like Judas Priest or Iron Maiden. The death metal bands that I love listening to.”

Recording for the album began in October 2022. By January 2023, Whelan had himself convinced that he was ready to jump back into life as a touring musician, touting heavy and grimy death metal up and down the coasts and across

the great divide. It went okay, right?, we ask. You didn’t overdo it or anything, did you?

“I overdid it, man,” he almost laughs. “We played these shows in January 2023 with our buddies High Command, and we played a headlining show at Saint Vitus in New York City, and I came back so sick. I had to get hospitalized again. It was so brutal. But my girl bought me Pokémon HeartGold, like [this] superrare Nintendo DS Pokémon game. I just crushed through that game; it was dope.”

Unfortunately, the battle against cancer would not be Whelan and Fuming Mouth’s only trial before releasing Last Day of Sun. Last year, on July 20, the art and metal worlds lost a true visionary: Polish artist Mariusz Lewandowski.

Lewandowski’s otherworldly paintings have graced both Fuming Mouth’s debut LP and Beyond the Tomb, its 2020 follow-up EP. His art for Last Day of Sun had begun, but was not yet completed at the time of his passing.

“Losing Mariusz Lewandowski was so hard,” remembers Whelan, “He was a good friend. He was such a committed creative.” Overcoming yet another obstacle, the band worked with Stefan Todorovic to personify the album’s ominous gravitas and feeling of overwhelming darkness.

That’s the theme of Last Day of Sun, and of Fuming Mouth in general, Whelan tells us: “Adapt and overcome.”

D E C I BDEELC I: BDEELC:EAMPBREIR L 2021 3 : 31

mouthpiece KISS-loving Chris Reifert already can’t wait to spill more Ashes story by Raoul Hernandez

photo by Nancy Reifert

pend 62 minutes FaceTiming Autopsy’s Chris Reifert and you’ll

lament—full-on grieve—not adjourning to the bottom of an adult beverage somewhere while gabbing about music and abusing some unassuming jukebox. ¶ “I wasn’t aware of a Bay Area scene until becoming a teenager,” shrugs the 54-year-old Concord native just after Labor Day. “I have the same story as most people my age: I grew up with my parents’ records. They had what I call the three Bs: the Beatles, Beethoven and Bo Diddley. They were into jazz, folk, bluegrass, all sorts of things. ¶ “So, I had a pretty good musical surrounding until one day, in the Year of Our Lord 1978—and this was the game-changer in my life—I was watching Saturday morning cartoons when a TV commercial came on for the KISS solo albums. I didn’t even know what KISS was, but I was like, ‘Oh my god, what?’ It was HUGE.” DP EC 32 : A RE I LM2B0E2R1 2: 0D2E3C :I BDEELC I B E L

In fact, both the drummer’s parents played and sang, “so it was never not going to happen.” Reifert’s maternal grandfather, a vibraharpist, actually turned down joining the hit band of New Orleans clarinet pioneer Pete Fountain. His grandkid, by the way, chose the Ace Frehley platter. At Reifert’s first concert soon thereafter, a middle school motivational by a Christian collective from Florida, the band fired up Saxon’s “Princess of the Night.” The following year, 1983, he caught the NWOBHM pioneers supporting Iron Maiden’s Piece of Mind tour with Fastway opening.

“That exploded my mind,” he says. “I can now say I saw Fast Eddie Clarke live. That was the doors being kicked down right there.”

A lot of bands go into a studio and they’re like, ‘We moved so fast, we recorded drums in two weeks.’

I’ve got a day-and-a-half and it’s gotta be done, because time is money.

We’re not on fucking

Columbia Records with open-ended studio time.

-Chris Reifert

By decade’s end, Autopsy carved their name into death metal lore with full-length debut Severed Survival. Decades on, it still sounds like music collapsing on itself, with just enough bass to supersede rice paper ’80s production.

Mature laceration instead of demo machismo— brutal, battering, deranged—its guitars rip trebly and sunder bass-like, drums-a-spraying, with Reifert vocalizing insanity from the first incision.

Even four albums for Peaceville couldn’t stop a year such as 1995 gutting Autopsy, but when they returned behind Macabre Eternal in 2011, the Oakland quartet—Reifert, axe disembowelers Eric Cutler and Danny Coralles, and now pandemic hire Greg Wilkinson on bass—manifested a far heavier gravitas. Reifert modulated effortlessly between a bulbous bottom end, sinister tenor and hair-raising howl. The Headless Ritual (2013), Tourniquets, Hacksaws and Graves (2014), Skull Grinder (2015) and essential chum bucket After the Cutting all slay. Fiftyfive weeks after the lurching, lashing Morbid Triumphant erupts follow-up Ashes, Organs, Blood and Crypts.

“That sounds like a lot when you break it down mathematically,” laughs Reifert. “Now I’m like, ‘Wow, what took us so long?’ I dunno.

We just like to make new music. We’re not out

there trying to be an oldies act. We want to have something new to offer and not just to prove ourselves. It’s what we like to do. Recording’s fucking fun. It’s stressful, but it’s fun and it never gets old. I can’t wait to do another one.”

Ashes, Organs, Blood and Crypts, their 10th studio LP, chops off a leaner cut than its predecessor. Opener “Rabid Funeral” launches a death dash, all sprinting drums and lightning guitars, Reifert sucking air and exhaling hydrogen— elemental + highly combustible—before the song drops into a sandstorm tempo off Cultösaurus Erectus. (“I love that album,” Reifert injects.)

“Throatsaw” unleashes an unabashed ripper, pure galloping evisceration, its high voltage riffs and drums ‘n’ throat—well, sawing. Reifert absolutely froths.

Coralles and Cutler, meanwhile, drag-race to the death. “No Mortal Left Alive” decants chugging contagion, whose chant (“everyone’s dead, everyone’s dead, everyone’s dead”) repeats Twilight Zone-like in hell, and the tempo changes in “Well of Entrails” beg for arrangement insight.

“Well, that part’s easy, because we don’t do that,” snorts Reifert. “Everybody writes at home, individually. We’re good at editing ourselves, so none of us ever shows the rest of the band a song where we’re like, ‘I don’t know about that.’

[Laughs] We know better. So, there’s no dicking around in the rehearsal room.

“So, if any of our stuff sounds like there’s a sense of urgency, it’s because there was. A lot of bands go into a studio and they’re like, ‘We moved so fast, we recorded drums in two weeks.’

I’ve got a day-and-a-half and it’s gotta be done, because time is money. We’re not on fucking Columbia Records with open-ended studio time, so we move fast.”

To the extent that Ashes, Organs, Blood and Crypts took one week to record. “Our first album we did in four days, top to bottom,” Reifert continues. “Of course, we did spend half our budget on weed, but that’s another story.”

Having grown up 10 minutes from Reifert during a similar era, I shot in the dark as to whether he heard the Rolling Stones single teasing that day’s announcement of a new album in October. His face lights up—“it’s fucking awesome”—and he gushes how he and Coralles texted about it like schoolboys. Do Autopsy lifers do the same thing?

“I hope so,” he grins. “That would make me feel good. At the end of the day, we’re music fans. We grew up not caring about fucking sports or anything like that. We were just rock ‘n’ roll all the way. That’s what floats our boats.”

D E C I BDEELC I: BDEELC:EAMPBREIR L 2021 3 : 33

AFTER AN UNSCHEDULED PANDEMIC PAUSE, OLD-SCHOOL LEGENDS

CIRITH UNGOL KNOW THERE’S NO TIME TO WASTE story by SARAH KITTERINGHAM

photo by PETER BESTE

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WE PLAY DOOM AND GLOOM.

Cirith Ungol drummer Robert Garven is contemplative when we call him to

discuss the band’s sixth studio album, Dark Parade. After all, he spearheaded the obscure band through two tumultuous decades in their original 1971-1992 formation. They’ve since experienced a triumphant reformation that culminated in 2020’s fantastic Forever Black. On the basis of that album, Cirith Ungol should have been riding the unique high that comes with a reformation that’s actually good, but instead momentum came to a grinding halt. ¶ “The pandemic was really hard on us, like it was on everyone,” muses Garven. “A lot of our shows got canceled and our album Forever Black coincided with the actual giant pandemic attacking. ¶ “We were all [more] pumped up as a band as we had ever been, and we’re getting older, so you know… it’s like losing three years of your age when you’re 20 is one thing, but losing three years of age when you’re in your 60s is another thing.”

This reality weighs heavily on Dark Parade, which is another somber, fantastical installment in Cirith Ungol’s strong catalog. Like Forever Black, it’s devoid of the flamboyant garage rock roots that anchored their 1981 debut Frost and Fire, and instead leans more heavily into the epic doom and exploratory U.S. power metal that dominated 1986’s One Foot in Hell. Of course, it features many trademarks of the California based band: Tim Baker’s malefic banshee shrieks; lyrics that merge fantasy and social commentary; ample squealing; drawn-out solos; a painting adorning the cover of the doomed albino Emperor Elric of Melniboné by renowned fantasy painter Michael Whelan.

“If the world was full of peace and love and happiness, and ecological and political and cultural justice, we’d be writing different music,” Garven reasons. “But you look around us and an entire city in Hawaii just burned to the ground.

And Canada…”

He continues, his words becoming increasingly despondent.

“How come we don’t know every night on the news there’s 700 fires burning out of control? And right now, Louisiana’s on fire, a state that normally doesn’t burn. A lot of Europe, there’s places that traditionally don’t see natural disasters happening, and there’s no doubt it’s climate change. If you look around us, between the wars and famines and the environment… we don’t see that much positive stuff happening.

“With the release of Dark Parade, it’s Tim’s prophetic view of the decline of mankind and civilization,” says Garven. “Our music, what we wanted is the darkness of the lyrics encompassed within the music.”

That darkness has come to define Cirith Ungol, who have explored additional musical realms within Dark Parade. On the massive, eight-minute highlight “Sailor on the Seas of Fate” (named after the 1976 Elric of Melniboné novel by Michael Moorcock), we’re treated to the opening samples of a creaking ship. Later on, guitar effects that mimic the iconic Hammond organ elevate the chorus, courtesy of guitarist Greg Lindstrom.

Meanwhile, the drums have a huge, pounding resonance that purposefully reverberate.

“I remember seeing Ben Hur when I was a kid for the first time with Charlton Heston,” explains Garven animatedly. “He’s on a slave ship and it’s a Roman slave gallery and he’s rowing. And so, as he’s rowing, there’s a guy standing up there. He has a big stump of wood with a leather pad on it. But he’s got these two big wood hammers and he’s just beating out the thing, and it starts off like cruising speed, it goes BOOM BOOM. Then it turns into ‘attack speed’; it’s like BOOM BOOM BOOM. Then it goes ‘ramming speed’; it’s like BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. “So, the whole time we’re writing [‘Sailor on the Seas of Fate’], I go, ‘Hey, I want this whole song to be about [that scene],’ and the other guys

in the band are like, ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ [Laughs] I think they understood.”

Later on, there’s a chorus of backing vocalists providing a call-and-response counterpoint to Baker’s shrieks in album closer “Down Below.”

Provided by the band members alongside Baker’s daughters, the impact is unnerving.

“If you tied a little string on the end of Forever Black and you dragged it across the cosmos and you tied it onto the front of Dark Parade, that’s what we’re trying to do,” says Garven of the relatively minor additions that are peppered throughout Dark Parade. The 44-minute album is ultimately a worthy addition to the (currently fast-expanding) pantheon of modern traditional heavy metal by a band that undoubtedly helped trigger its revival.

“There’s no doubt this is the twilight of our career,” Garven admits. “We’re not starting off; we’re closer to the curtain call than we are to first climbing up onstage. But knowing that, we’re going to try to use every available moment to try to hammer in our unique brand of true metal.

That’s our mission statement.

“Not to keep overstating this, but the world around us seems to be in disarray. You know, there’s a lot of really sad and horrible things happening. And our music is a mirrored reflection of that. The world’s gonna end, and it’s gonna be like the fall of the Roman Empire, at least in our dark vision. We want to raise a beacon above us of light and true metal so that people can follow it.”

Garven concludes defiantly, “Join the Legion!”

D E C I BDEELC I: BDEELC:EAMPBREIR L 2023 1 : 35

interview by

QA j. bennett

WIT H

KRIEG mastermind on compartmentalization, the responsibilities of fatherhood and the band’s first new album in nearly a decade

36 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

D

espite suffering from an upper respiratory infection, Neill Keeping all that separate helps me really appre-

Jameson is in a surprisingly good mood. Known for his crotchety but well-aimed screeds against certain factions of the metal scene, retail Karens (of both sexes) and society in general, the Krieg mastermind, USBM survivor and Decibel columnist is almost… perky? “I really have no complaints for once, so this might not be the most interesting conversation we’ve ever had,” he says. ¶ Which turns out to be a complete lie. Our man does have a few complaints—nothing that isn’t fully deserved by anyone/anything on the receiving end—and our conversation turns out to be pretty entertaining. Especially if you’re into carefully compartmentalizing your work life from your personal life and getting some introspective details on Ruiner, the first Krieg album in almost 10 years. “I spend eight or nine hours a day at work basically being someone else,” he says. “I don’t even go by Neill there—I go by Howard, which is my first name. It’s almost like a fantasy world. My reality is music, books, art and my family—the good things in life.

So, I’m basically separating myself into two people. Which is bipolar in a way, but it’s helped with my mental health.”

If you have no complaints, what are you gonna write about in the mag this month?

I have a list. When I don’t have something to bitch about, I use one of those. I have a bank of three or four ideas at all times, so when Albert tells me the column is due, I can pull something together. I didn’t do it until maybe two years ago, when there was a month where I had fucking nothing. I wrote like three or four pieces, rapidfire, but they were just all dogshit. I had like five hours before deadline, so I really had to buckle down and pull something out of my ass. That’s when I knew I needed to have an arsenal so I could deliver the obvious high-quality standard that people are used to from me. [Laughs] You worked in a record store for years, but I know you’re doing something else now. I remember the column you wrote about the drunk co-worker who sexually assaulted you at a conference. Can you talk about that job?

I can talk about that job because I’m not doing it anymore. I was managing a Pet Valu, which was a chain of pet supply stores—I’m not sure if you had them on the West Coast. Before that, I was managing a GNC and sending out résumés to anyone who would fucking take me. I worked at the Pet Valu for two years and it was fucking miserable, especially when the pandemic hit.

Working in Virginia and having people coming in and yelling at me about how you’re fucking with their freedom because you have to go and get their dog food for them instead of them being able to shop through the store. Fortunately, by the end of 2020, that company liquidated and I was able to jump ship into what I’m doing now.

PHOTO BY K A SSANDR A CARMONA

How’s it going?

I’ve been there for almost three years now, and I’ve very successfully managed to keep the shit that I consider my career—writing and music— out of what is basically just a job to me. I do it just to be able to facilitate how I want to live my life—to do Krieg and writing and other music things. I don’t necessarily look at retail as a career—I don’t think anyone should—but this job has been really good to me so far. That’s why I hardly ever write about customers on Facebook anymore: There haven’t really been a whole lot of the experiences that I had for the preceding 10 years at the record store, the liquor store, GNC or the pet food store. Those were almost psychedelic experiences in how absurd and fucked-up they were. I rarely have that kind of experience now, which has been really good for my mental health. But it’s not at all conducive to social media posts.

Do people at work know you’re in a band?

No. I mean, I’m sure they have an idea because of the tattoos. And being here in Richmond, everyone has a band. But I’ve kept my personal life so quiet that they know not to talk to me about it. And I’m super professional now, which is really odd. I never was at any of my previous jobs. I was a consummate fuck-up, and I was pretty proud of that. But with this one I’ve decided to play the straight and narrow, so I get accolades—I get good performance reviews and all this stuff I’ve never gotten before. It’s like living an entirely different life and then coming home and having all my authentic, real experiences with my family, friends and music.

ciate things in my life more.

You became a dad about two years ago. How massive an adjustment was that?

The last four or five years have been a massive adjustment because in 2019, my girlfriend was diagnosed with stage four lung and brain cancer. That was the moment when everything really solidified into, “Holy shit. I’m 41 years old. I really need to get my shit together for this person.” I had to become an adult for the first time in my life. Once she was out of the woods and everything was good there, we were suddenly having a kid. That wasn’t nearly as big of an adjustment. Plus, I’ve gotten a lot of dumb shit out of my system. I haven’t touched any hard drugs in years. I hardly drink anymore—I’m sitting here drinking a mineral water talking to you.

The biggest challenge was trying to figure out how I could become emotionally mature enough to handle the responsibility. The responsibility itself wasn’t that daunting. The lack of sleep sucked, but it was more like, “How do I take care of this new person? How do I show them all the best things in the world that I can while teaching her about how horrible everything is without fucking her up? How do I handle being a father and not fuck her up the way my father fucked me up and the way his father fucked him up?”

Yeah, that’s serious business.

I’m very well-aware that I’m gonna fuck her up somehow. That’s what you sign up for when you become a parent: “I’m gonna fuck this child up at least 20 percent.” There’s no way you can’t leave an imprint on your kid. You gotta figure out how big an impact that’s gonna be. So, the challenge for me has been how I handle my emotions. I’ve got a lengthy, publicly documented history with depression. Am I going to pass that on to her? I don’t know, but I hope not. How do I handle myself around her so she sees the reality of who her father is without seeing the worst of it? How do you break the stigma of mental illness to your child early? How do you break societal stigmas in general? How do you raise a kid that doesn’t become a fucked-up, red hatwearing intolerant piece of shit that isn’t open to new experiences, new people or just opposing viewpoints? It’s a daily challenge, but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.

Between global warming, artificial intelligence and people’s general intolerance for each other, do you worry what kind of world she’ll be growing up in?

I haven’t even been able to take her for a walk these last few days because of the air coming DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 37

Happy accidents  Jameson (r) and Krieg feel no guilt about their new album

When I started thinking about, ‘What is Krieg to me?’... well, Krieg has ruined my life. So, the term Ruiner just kept rolling around in my head.

Let’s talk about something positive: the new Krieg record. Why did you decide to call it Ruiner?

I thought you wanted to talk about something positive! It’s weird, though—half the song titles on Ruiner are aborted album titles. Conceptually, we thought we were ready to do a new record in 2015, once our contract with Candlelight expired and we signed with Profound Lore. We had all 38 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

these grandiose ideas about going to GodCity and recording this mammoth album that was gonna be our Killing Joke record. We thought it would be very post-punk and not very black metal.

I didn’t want a single blast beat on it. Then I kept coming up with album titles, but no music.

The weight of expectations after Transient was so heavy on me—and I mean personal expectations, because critically it did well, but the album landed with the aplomb of wet shit. Year after year passed and we didn’t record. Then we ended up doing it by accident.

How so?

We went into this rehearsal room that had a recording studio built into it, and we were gonna record three songs for a split with Withdrawal. But when I listened back to the songs, I thought, “Holy shit—this is the album.”

So, we decided to go back in and finish the remaining five songs. Through that entire time, there was no working album title. It was just “Album Number Eight.” Then we finally went to Profound Lore, like, “Hey, I know we signed this contract like nine fucking years ago, but here’s the new record!” I was originally going to call it Guilt, but that’s passive and self-pitying. It’s not really what we’re about. We’re not a DSBM band. We’re not Xasthur. When I started thinking about, “What is Krieg to me?”... well, Krieg has ruined my life. So, the term Ruiner just kept

rolling around in my head. The band liked it, so we stuck with it.

How would you characterize the lyrical theme of the album?

It’s the third in a kind of an autobiographical trilogy, with The Isolationist and Transient. Each album is an exploration of my own inner monologue. The Isolationist was when I was fucked-up and is kind of self-explanatory. Transient was when I had just been homeless and I was really lost in the world. I was trying to make sense of my life at the time. Ruiner is the last few years of everything I’ve absorbed in my life, from my girlfriend having cancer to having a really bad mental breakdown between 2017 and ’18, where I wasn’t as connected to reality as I should have been. My depression and what I considered all my failings in life were really weighing heavily on me. But my life has been on an upswing lately, so Ruiner takes on an aspect of control. I’m the one who’s in control of ruining something.

That might not sound overly helpful or positive, but it puts me in the position of control or command in my life—rather than allowing external situations or people to have influence.

Don’t let anyone else fuck up your life— do it yourself.

Exactly. No one’s gonna fuck up your life as well as you can, so why let somebody else do it?

PHOTO BY KASSANDRA CARMONA

down from the Canadian wildfires. Or it’s ridiculously hot out. So, I think about that stuff constantly, and her mother feels the same way.

We have a strange feeling of guilt because it’s our fault she’s here. Our job is to try to prepare her the best we can for the world she’s going to be living in. We don’t hide anything that’s going on, but we also don’t make anything seem beautiful when it’s not. Then again, she’s two-and-a-half, so it’s not like we’re having these deep conversations with her yet. Well, we are, but she doesn’t know what the fuck we’re saying.

It’s a dress rehearsal for when she grows up and understands and starts blaming us for bringing her into a really fucked-up world. It’s hard to be optimistic, but I try to hope that we’re going to raise her in a way that she’s prepared for it, and that she’s gonna have the best life that she possibly can in the situation that she’s going to be living in—which is overpopulation, pollution, global warming and the swarming of assholes across America.

RE!!

MORE ANDD MO N, AN TION, ACTIO FI, AC SCII FI, LT, SC CULT, OR,, CU RROR HORR HO

VISIBLE SECRET

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June sweeps Peter into a world where he has one foot in the past, one in the present, and has to figure out which is which.

Two sisters, Celeste and Isa, fall under the terrifying spell of a mysterious vinyl record from the 1970s.

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THE GIANT GILA MONSTER (1959)

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WITH BONUS FILM, THE Nazi officers flee to Latin KILLER SHREWS (1959) America after the 3rd Reich’s Drive-in schlock favorites The Giant Gila Monster & The Killer Shrews, originally released on a double-bill oversized animals unite once again!

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defeat. While in hiding, they create labs to produce slaves for their own satisfaction.

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A PERFECT VISION of the RISING NORTHLAND immortal's earliest days are explored in this exclusive excerpt from dayal patterson’s landmark

D

ECIBEL BOOKS RECENTLY ANNOUNCED the publication of

Black Metal: Evolution of the Cult—Restored, Expanded & Definitive Edition, and now we’re proud to reveal the first excerpt from this massive hardcover black metal history (over 800 pages!), authored by Dayal Patterson.

The following passage transports readers to—you guessed it—Norway: the waning days of the underground death metal craze, the messy beginnings of the second wave of black metal and the genesis of scene legends Immortal.

40 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

ONE

OF THE EARLIEST BANDS TO EMERGE during the rebirth of black metal in Norway, Immortal have gone on to become one of the genre’s most popular and iconic artists, and probably the most recognizable to those outside of the scene.

Despite creative conflict and commercial success, Immortal’s music stays remarkably true to the vision crystalized on their early albums, one inspired by the legends of the 1980s, yet nevertheless bearing the combination of searing aggression and rich atmosphere that characterized the 1990s. ¶ For many years, Immortal was centered on two men: guitarist Harald Nævdal (who adopted the pseudonym Demonaz Doom Occulta) and vocalist/bassist Olve Eikemo (Abbath Doom Occulta), both of whom grew up in the west of Norway. Like so many of their peers, the two had discovered heavy metal in their childhood—thanks in no small part to KISS’s highly effective promotional campaign—and hungrily explored the genre as they grew older.

“It was a very small community,” recalls Demonaz of his youth in an interview I conducted in 2023. “I was tape-trading demos, and that opened up the world and offered new possibilities, because in Norway it was very hard to get music.

Whenever I wanted an album, I had to order from the U.K. or Sweden; in Norway there was nothing.

You had to trust the reviews in the fanzines, and there was also a Swedish record club where you would get a monthly magazine; you saw a cover and hoped the album was great. Sometimes it was horrible. You bought five at a time—it was cheaper because of the postage—and there would be one or two that were killer; the others you just throw away or swap for something else.

“Coming from the place I did outside Bergen, there was nobody listening to rock ‘n’ roll. I had no friends, none whatsoever, that were listening to the same music when I was 12 years old listening to Black Sabbath, or when I was 10 listening to the Rolling Stones, trying to play ‘Satisfaction’ on a borrowed acoustic guitar… which was impossible.”

Demonaz would meet a like-minded soul in the form of Jørn Tunsberg, and together with drummer Jan Atle “Padden” Åserød—and initially a guitarist named Truls Kvernhusvik— they would begin creating their own music, Demonaz handling vocals and guitars, Tunsberg on drums and Padden on bass. Initially known as Sacrecy, and then Amputation, the band recorded two demos—Achieve the Mutilation and Slaughtered in the Arms of God, released in 1989 and 1990 respectively—Tunsberg and Padden curiously swapping instruments for the second demo.

“I got to know Demonaz at school when he moved to my area,” recalls Tunsberg. “We were 15 or 16 years old. We started to hang out a lot and started Sacrecy, then Amputation. Then when we were around 17 or 18, we met Abbath and his friends—they played in Old Funeral, and we started to hang out with them around ’88/’89.”

Like Sacrecy/Amputation, Old Funeral were a death metal band that had formed in 1988 and released demos in 1989 and 1990. The two bands crossed paths regularly since Padden was the

drummer for Old Funeral and Demonaz played guitar in the band for a time, while Abbath would eventually contribute to Amputation. The local scene was very small, and Bergen was far from the metal-centric city it is today, meaning support was in somewhat short supply.

“People were saying, ‘You can never go anywhere with this music,’” Demonaz sighs. “That’s what you always were told, and that was just adding fuel to the fire, I think that was helping us in a way to work harder. I remember I was driving myself and Abbath to the rehearsal place—I’m three years older and he didn’t have a license yet—and when we arrived, there were some people coming to watch us because they heard that there were some people playing in the basement. And they didn’t understand it. They were asking, ‘What kind of music is this?’ They thought we were just fooling around maybe, I don’t know. But there was a contest half an hour from the rehearsal place, this Norwegian music contest, and there were just rock bands and punk

bands, no [other metal] bands. We came in, we’d rehearsed all we could, and we won the fucking contest. It was like, ‘What happened?!’”

Padden would soon end up “out of the picture,” and so Demonaz, Tunsberg and Abbath formed Immortal, taking on a new drummer, Gerhard Herfindal, then known as Gædda and soon Armagedda. The first result of this union was the band’s only demo, a self-titled effort recorded at a youth club on July 5, 1991 and released soon after.

Featuring cover art by Dead of Mayhem and a logo

by Jannicke Wiese-Hansen (soon to be known for her work with Burzum and Enslaved), the music was undeniably death metal in nature, with deep guttural vocals—courtesy of Abbath, who immediately became the band’s frontman—pummeling drums and plenty of simple, nasty riffs.

“Morbid Angel’s Thy Kingdom Come demo was a huge inspiration,” says Demonaz. “Also, Altars of Madness is my favorite death metal album ever, or one of them. It has this haunting voice, those great guitar riffs, and the songs are just flowing; there is some sort of magic in the production, near to perfection in death metal. Also, the first Entombed album—very different to what I do, but it has some sort of heavy death metal rock ‘n’ roll type of songs. Death metal was very inspiring in the beginning when we made the demos, no doubt about it.”

Released just three months later on Listenable Records, the band’s self-titled 7-inch demonstrated a marked shift from death to black metal, reflecting the wider conversion taking place in the Norwegian underground. Listening today, the riffs themselves are pretty chuggy and death metal in flavor, but the cutting treble-heavy  Mosh, Core, Trends, Fun Immortal’s self-titled 1991 demo, featuring art by Dead, alongside noticeable death metal influences

D E C I B E L : D E C E M B E R 2 0 2 3 : 41

Taking shelter from cryptic winterstorms  Flyer for Immortal’s self-titled 1991 EP

guitar sound (mirrored by the higher-pitched and more malevolent-sounding vocals) hints at the new direction to come. The band was also using pseudonyms for the first time and had stripped down to a three-piece, Tunsberg leaving to play in Old Funeral before going on to form the Viking black metal band Hades.

The band was promptly signed by another French label, Osmose Productions, which issued debut full-length Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism in July of 1992, making it one of the very first Norwegian black metal albums. Though the songs still bear some remaining traces of death metal, the album offered a much clearer picture of what was to come, its songs characterized by demonic shrieked vocals and a combination of long, epic riffs and shorter, busier hooks. The drums generally stick to an upbeat, galloping rhythm à la Viking-era Bathory, the songs periodically dipping into nastier, more foreboding passages, the trio piling on the atmosphere wherever possible.

The overall experience is a blend of ’80s and ’90s black metal, with a few hints of death metal and thrash, and remains a popular opus.

“My main inspiration, my heroes, were Conan the Barbarian, Quorthon and Tom G. Warrior,” 42 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

laughs Demonaz. “And, of course, Cronos from Venom. That was a magic time for these three-piece bands. The first time I saw the Blood Fire Death inner sleeve with the threepiece band, I thought, ‘This is it; the three-piece band is the shit.’ That was the main influence, not only musically. The Bathory style of singing and most of the riffs came from early Bathory also—I was born in 1970 and I think The Return...... was the first Bathory album I bought, and the expression he made on The Return...... with the full moon… obviously, Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism was inspired by that.

“But we weren’t good enough musicians, we learned on the way.

We weren’t that technical; we could play, but we couldn’t play like Slayer with a very technical style. But we had a driving force. We were very motivated, and you can learn a lot from that, so we focused on the writing and finding the right moods for the album. Bathory was a big influence, but also Manowar—even if it doesn’t sound like Manowar, you can feel the influence there—and bands like early Metallica, some riffs inspired from Celtic Frost, it was a mix of all of that.”

Though the band had not quite found the distinctive sound for which they would ultimately be known, many of the fundamentals were already in place, not least in the overall aesthetic. Having a corpsepainted band photograph on the cover would become a hallmark of the group (and to some degree, the genre)—for many years to come; and lyrically and thematically, the band was already largely eschewing the Satanism of their peers, despite “Unholy Forces of Evil” featuring talk of burning pentagrams and the devil.

For the most part, though, the band painted fantastic tales of wintry Northern landscapes and sinister sorcery on songs such as “The Call of the Wintermoon,” “Cryptic Winterstorms” and “A Perfect Vision of the Rising Northland.” They also openly rejected Satanism in interviews, a fairly ballsy move at the time, especially for a group approved by Euronymous. “I don’t believe in ‘Satan’ himself,” Abbath stated in 1993 in Black Montanas zine. “I have never seen him and I don’t think anyone ever has. I believe in the sign of evil: pentagrams, inverted crosses, etc. It stands for the evil in life, that’s my opinion.”

“We never were inspired musically by the other Norwegian bands; that was a wrong thing to do in a way,” says Demonaz. “When we did our first album, it was more inspired by the surroundings. I never wanted the lyrics to be political or religious; I wanted to find an

expression, and I found it on The Return...... album by Bathory, where he was singing about the cold and the wind and all that. I thought that would be our signature, to sing about where we came from, the nature and everything. Of course, the makeup was a KISS/Mayhem thing.

Mayhem had already started to do that, so that was an influence, but not the music.”

This fascination with cold Nordic landscapes would be crystallized in the “Blashyrkh” concept, which has provided a thematic base for every album that followed. The word actually only appears once in the lyrics on each of the first two albums, but the third LP, 1995’s Battles in the North, explores the idea much more explicitly in the popular track “Blashyrkh (Mighty Ravendark),” embedding this mythical land into the consciousness of fans. Later albums would feature the songs “Gates to Blashyrkh” and “Blashyrkh My Throne,” the band also releasing a live album entitled The Seventh Date of Blashyrkh (a sly nod to heroes Venom) and a box set called Under the Banner of Blashyrkh. Even the early band address started with the line “Immortal ‘At the Gate of Blashyrkh’ Fan-Club.”

“From the beginning I wanted the band to be a phenomenon, to be different from the others,” considers Demonaz. “So doing Immortal, it was an obvious thing from the start. I made this word ‘Blashyrkh,’ which means ‘the realm of the dark and cold.’ There is a word for winter, there’s a word for snow, for wind, for frost, but there was never a word for all this and the dark together, so this word was to describe this feeling, this dark cold atmosphere which nobody can touch, which is a bit uncontrollable. This is nature; we can control most things, but we can’t control nature. The universe is powerful, and it doesn’t care about us. We are on this earth, traveling through this universe which doesn’t care about us, which is interesting, and I always thought that would be the Immortal perspective.

“But there was never a mission behind it.

I never try to preach anything, what people should do with their lives or what they should believe in. It’s part of how we present the band, and it’s also for the listener to escape into that mood. It’s something you can only find in Immortal, and I think that’s important for a band: to have a signature, to believe in what you do and stay true to it and just try to improve it. One fan told me, ‘When I want to listen to Immortal, nothing else works; it’s like I can’t find that in any other band,’ and maybe that’s because I stick to that recipe that became the signature of an Immortal song. And I still want to do that, and I still try and do that better and better and better.”

Black Metal: Evolution of the Cult—Restored, Expanded & Definitive Edition is available exclusively in North America for pre-order now at store.decibelmagazine.com

 Open-eyed beast attack The Red Chord’s Guy Kozowyk is ready to sing that same old song in Denver

METAL & BEER FEST

heads back to its official second home in Denver for another around S TOR Y B Y K E VI N STEWAR T- PANKO

NO

offense, California, but it would appear that, for the foresee-

able future, the annual western edition of Decibel’s Metal & Beer Festival has found a new home in Denver. This following the rousing, claustrophobic and sweaty success of the fest’s Mile High City debut last year after barrel-aging in the coastal sunshine since 2018. But having Denver as host makes perfect sense. Last December, the Summit Music Hall was packed to the eyebrows as pillars of the city’s robust metal and beer scenes were joined by slammers (of both beer and metal) from here, there and everywhere for hangovers provided by a who’s who of extreme music-friendly breweries and bang-overs courtesy of Cannibal Corpse, Pig Destroyer, Skinless, Immolation, Black Anvil and more. ¶ Denver has long been heralded as one of America’s best beer cities, if not the best. CNN has been saying so for a decade. A little bit of internet snooping reveals that a whole host of travel magazines and websites from abroad point curious readers to Denver in order to quench their thirsty wanderlust. And it’s not just because Coors is celebrating 150 years of concocting Rocky Mountain beverages locally at what is now the largest single brewing facility in the world. In fact, according to Phil Pendergast of Khemmis—a band that hails a hop, skip and a jump from the Summit Music Hall, and has played previous Decibel Metal & Beer Fests in L.A. and Philly (drummer Zach Coleman is head brewer at TRVE Brewing, the fest’s Presenting Brewery)—it’s probably because of Coors that Denver has developed such a strong beer scene and culture.

44 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

“I think that has a big part to do with it,” opines the guitarist/vocalist, whose band is headlining night one. “The culture of places has a lot to do with what industry birthed them. And the industry that birthed Denver was beer because Coors has been here since the 1800s, so Denver has always been a beer city. The Coors Brewery is still out in Golden, which is adjacent to Denver, and it’s not surprising that smaller breweries have grown up in the shadow of that to fill in and capitalize on the culture that Coors started.”

Says fellow Denverite Steve Goldberg of freakazoid deathgrind legends Cephalic Carnage, who are dusting off material from their six-album history for a rare local appearance, “As far as I can remember, we’ve always been called the microbrew and original craft beer capital of the country.”

“The craft brewing scene really proliferated here over the past decade or two,” agrees and expounds Shaun Goodwin of stoner doom rockers the Munsens, who are opening the festivities.

“Denver has more than its fair share of great craft breweries, including a number that support and promote heavy music, which is cool. Not to pick favorites, but we’ve always been super down with TRVE and all they’re about.”

The number of bands Dave Witte has drummed for is only eclipsed by his knowledge PHOTO BY HILLARIE JASON

of beer. At this year’s Metal & Beer Denver, the Beer Master General himself will be appearing with Morbikon as the black metal project makes its initial moves from studio to stage. He’s also in agreement about the appropriateness of Denver as a location for a beer-themed metal festival, but offers balance by saying, “You can’t discredit California; they brought the hop game to the world, and the West Coast IPA Pliny the Elder—brewed by Russian River—revolutionized everything. But Denver was definitely a pioneer and way ahead of everyone else at the beginning of this whole thing. They had the most breweries in the country and were pushing the envelope pretty hard.”

Those sentiments are echoed by Harry Smith of Denver-based, metal-loving brewery Black Sky Brewing, which is returning as one of 12 featured breweries offering on-site pours: “My perspective on the local beer scene is that it’s a rocking culture! It’s very inclusive and challenges brewers to push limits, to be creative and innovative.

Compare that to 15 years ago when most breweries were large regional production facilities with similar recipes.”

“We really appreciate Denver for having a plethora of microbreweries,” adds Michael Schrock of local esoteric death metallers and day two openers Astral Tomb. “We’re all for small business, so to live somewhere where there is real competition to the ‘mainstream behemoth’ breweries is very inspiring. Honestly, in the past five years, we haven’t noticed too much change, with breweries like Comrade, Station 26 and Black Sky having a strong presence already, but in the past 15 years it’s been crazy to see the scene explode out of places like RiNo [the River North Arts District].”

are. Added bonus: No one’s playing a washboard or a jug band in the background all day.”

Fans from across the alcohol consumption spectrum have been buzzing since the initial announcement that this edition of the fest will host one of Agalloch’s first live appearances in seven years, and the Red Chord’s first Denver

It’s exciting for us to share these beers with everyone, hang out with other brewers and just kick it with all the metal maniacs who are just as passionate about beer and metal as we are.

Added bonus:

NO ONE’S PLAYING A WASHBOARD OR A JUG BAND PALPABLE EXCITEMENT AS FLAVOR IN THE BACKGROUND ALL DAY.

For Metal & Beer Denver 2023, the anticipa-

tion amongst performers, breweries and fans is already threatening to burst through the roof.

Metal-friendly breweries like Metal & Beer Fest regulars Adroit Theory from Virginia and Delaware-based Brimming Horn Meadery—as well as newcomers Magnanimous Brewing (Tampa) and Little Cottage (Atlanta)—are excited to show off their wares in the comfortable context of black T-shirts and battle jackets.

“Decibel Magazine Metal & Beer Fest is truly unique and the festival we look forward to most every year,” praises Chris Boggess of metal/beer scene legends 3 Floyds Brewing. “Albert [Mudrian, Decibel editor-in-chief]’s curation is top-notch, and the experience of sharing beers over metal music is something you just don’t get anywhere else.”

Adds Erik Ogershok, head brewer at WarPigs USA, “It’s exciting for us to share these beers with everyone, hang out with other brewers and just kick it with all the metal maniacs who are just as passionate about beer and metal as we

E R I K OGER SHOK , WARP I GS USA

appearance in even longer. It will also feature among the first-ever live performances by the aforementioned Morbikon and Portland, OR’s the Keening, and the return of Finland’s Krypts to American soil after a five-year absence.

Krypts will be appearing as the lone non-North American band, while Winnipeg noise rockers KEN mode and Montréal’s Phobocosm rep Canadian content. It’ll be Phobocosm’s Denver premiere, but not the first time the death metallers have crossed the border for a

Decibel-related function, which ties into how they came to be added to the Metal & Beer Denver bill in the first place.

“That’s actually a pretty funny story,” recalls guitarist Samuel Dufour. “Three-fourths of the band attended this year’s Metal & Beer Festival in Philly because we really wanted to see Gorguts, Incantation, Suicidal Tendencies, Mizmor and a few others. So, we drove the 10-plus hours from Montréal to be there. When the show started on Friday, we just kept saying how awesome it would be to be on a future edition of M&BF. We had been talking about this constantly since the first day of the fest. On Saturday, we were still pretty hungover from the first night, and as soon as we entered the venue, we started talking about that again.

I remember the doors opened at 4:30, and by 5:15 our label head, Matt [Calvert] from Dark Descent Records, sent me a text message asking if we’d be interested in playing the Denver edition in December. Needless to say, we immediately said yes without even thinking about the logistics and costs involved, and we just couldn’t stop smiling and high-fiving for the rest of the day.”

Chris Morrison, guitarist in Indianapolis’ Mother of Graves, is not only excited because the doom-deathsters get to join an Indiana caravan alongside WarPigs and 3 Floyds (not to mention they have new material to share), but also, “Just being asked means a lot because the Decibel festivals and tours have always had some of the most amazing lineups ever, so it is a damn honor to be a part of this one. It is going to be an amazing time! I’m bringing my wife and kids out with me to make it a small family getaway.

My son turns 9 on the first day of the fest, so while he can’t have any beer, maybe we can snag him some sick birthday merch!”

Excitement about collaborations also abounds as Khemmis, Agalloch, the Red Chord, Morbikon, the Munsens and Mother of Graves are all (at the time of writing) confirmed to have limited edition brews being made in their honor. TRVE are putting Khemmis’ name and logo on a chocolate-y medley that Pendergast excitedly classifies as “an old Rasputin-leaning imperial stout, on the bitter and roasty side of the spectrum called Obsidian Crown.” Witte describes the result between 3 Floyds and Morbikon’s meeting of the minds/taste buds as “a massive cherry barley wine.” And WarPigs will have a collaboration beer with Agalloch available, “a Rauchbier Marzen called Burned Fortress,” according to Ogershok.

In discussing the Fixation on Red Ale beer that Boston’s Bone Up brewed with the Red Chord in mind, vocalist Guy Kozowyk explains, “The beer wasn’t distributed outside of Massachusetts after it was made for the Philly fest, so it’s essentially being ‘reissued’ for DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 45

the Denver fest so people out west will have the opportunity to try it. I won’t generally waste the calories or brain cells on shitty beer, and this one is really cool, refreshing and delicious.” Other collaborations will see Wake and Little Cottage having beers inspired by the Munsens and Mother of Graves, respectively, available for tasting.

Also generating excitement on the boozy, weedy and hazy streets of Denver—“I love being from a city that’s known for beer, weed and mushrooms,” laughs Cephalic Carnage’s Goldberg—is the hometown-heavy lineup of this year’s edition of the fest; not that last year’s edition didn’t highlight local talent, as four bands calling the Queen City of the Plains home decimated the stage. With Cephalic, Primitive Man, the Munsens, Astral Tomb and Khemmis on the musical end, and TRVE and Black Sky representing the suds side, Pendergast is especially excited about his city being able to showcase its broad swath of talent to visitors and locals alike.

“That’s one of the cool things about this version of the fest—that we get to help shine a light on our city and show what it’s made of. It’s cool that a local band like us is carrying the fest and headlining one of the days. It shows a lot of

faith on Albert’s part, but it’s a testament to the strength of our local scene that you can put on a national fest with a high percentage of local bands because those are bands people still want to see, bands that can still go toe-to-toe with the bigger names and the bands that are being brought in. It’s cool that the fest is also drawing more attention to what Denver has going on. It’s not just a fest that happens to be in Denver; it’s a fest that is also celebrating Denver.”

BEYOND THE BOTTLE Exclusivity is always a draw for any festival,

especially in these competitive times where fests of all shapes and sizes dot the landscape asking for your time, attention and money. Whether that exclusivity is generated by a) bands like the Red Chord, Cephalic Carnage, Agalloch and Krypts coming back around after absences, or b) the inherent specialness provided by the Keening and Morbikon being so new to the game that just showing up and playing is a novel event, bands are trying to match that one-off sensibility with unique performances.

That’s one of the cool things about this version of the fest— that we get to help shine a light on our city and show what it’s made of.

IT’S COOL THAT A LOCAL BAND LIKE US IS CARRYING THE FEST AND HEADLINING ONE OF THE DAYS.

PH I L P E N DE RGAST, KH E MMIS

46 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

Says Krypts’ vocalist/bassist Antti Kotiranta, “This year marks the 10th anniversary of our debut album Unending Degradation, and we will build the set around that album.”

The Red Chord played the entirety of their Clients album at 2022’s Metal & Beer Philly, and Kozowyk knows, “It’s a lot to ask of your fanbase to be continually interested when our last album was in 2009 and we have nothing new really to promote.” As such, the Massachusetts death/grind/hardcore bomb squad are going to be “doing a little bit of everything from all our albums. Plus, we’ve been checking our social media messages to take requests… within reason, of course.”

As it will be Phobocosm’s Denver debut, Dufour says that the band is hoping “to do songs from all of our releases, but we will concentrate a little more on the material from our upcoming album, which will be out by the time we play at the fest.

If possible, we’ll have our live visuals running while we play. We rarely have the chance to use them, but when we do, I feel like it brings a little something more to our chaotic show.”

And the Keening will be unveiling their secret weapon/newest member: Ludicra’s Christy Cather on guitar, who will be joining guitarist/vocalist/bandleader Rebecca Vernon (ex-SubRosa).

In 2022, Cephalic Carnage were selected to close out what was originally supposed to be the final Maryland Deathfest. The festivities concluded with a super-extended version of their small-h hit, “Black Metal Sabbath” during which they handed off their instruments to a rotation of friends who pounded out and droned on the song’s stoner rockinspired closing riff until the house lights came on. Known for 30-plus years of these sorts of sly and subtle antics, Cephalic’s Goldberg is kicking around ideas for Metal & Beer Fest Denver, but is keeping any antic plans close to his chest… although some fest-themed merch may be in order.

“We might make our name and logo into a couple of mock beer label T-shirts for the fest in limited runs,” he muses.

“We have the Heineken one, but we’ve had that forever and it’s time to move on. But we’ll come up with something. We like to do ‘things’ for every show, really, especially now since we don’t play out as often. If all else fails, [vocalist] Leonard [Leal] has his inflatable whale that’s signed by a bunch of bands that he can throw out into the crowd!”

PHOTO BY LEVAN TK

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D E C I B E L : D E C E M B E R 2 0 2 3 : 47

the

definitive stories

behind extreme music’s

definitive albums

by

chris dick

Furor Teutonicus the making of Blind Guardian’s Imaginations From the Other Side

B

lind Guardian’s journey to their

instinctively. “Welcome to Dying,” “Lord fifth album, Imaginations From of the Rings” and “The Bard’s Song - In the the Other Side, wasn’t all that difForest” reinforced the group’s burgeoning ferent from most bands of their individuality, prompting heavy interest era. Formed as Lucifer’s Heritage in Germany and near-fanatical worship in 1984, the quartet—featuring in Japan. bassist/vocalist Hansi Kürsch, guitarWhen Imaginations landed in 1995, it was ists André Olbrich and Marcus Siepen, met with acclaim. Launch single “A Past and drummer Thomen Stauch—bent the and Future Secret,” combined with the tenets of speed metal to their Teutonic will mighty title track, were portals into a wild on two demos, Symphonies of Doom (1985) new world. The aggression of the past had and Battalions of Fear (1986). For all intents manifested in an intensely epic fashion. and purposes, the Ruhr Valley residents “I’m Alive,” “Born in a Mourning Hall” DBHOF228 were just another blue-collar rust belt and “Another Holy War” were undeniable band. A moniker change from Lucifer’s bolters, the pummeling drums of Stauch Heritage to Blind Guardian—and a deal warring with Olbrich and Siepen’s cyclowith German indie No Remorse Records— pean rhythms and wild-eyed melodicisms changed all that in 1987. only complemented Kürsch’s big-voiced Imaginations From the Other Side With the release of Blind Guardian’s admonitions to society as lensed through V IR GIN debut Battalions of Fear in 1987 and its a fantasy-based perspective. The expanA PR IL 5, 1 9 9 5 follow-up, Follow the Blind, two years later, siveness of “The Script for My Requiem,” Past, future, perfect the Germans had set much of the framethe blend into “Mordred’s Song” and the work that would reinforce Imaginations second single, “Bright Eyes,” winged Blind From the Other Side’s compositional bombast, Guardian into the stratosphere. conceptual depth, masterly musicianship Truly, the Germans had ascended and overall attitude. Kürsch funneled not to Iron Maiden levels of yesteryear, his zest for sci-fi, fantasy, horror and history into the lyrics. For example, but beyond anything they could’ve imagined in 1987. The production of “Guardian of the Blind” was inspired by Stephen King’s novel It, while famed studio ace Flemming Rasmussen bolstered everything he touched.

“Banish From Sanctuary” was based on Judean preacher John the Baptist.

Imaginations From the Other Side, replete with stunningly meticulous cover art Both releases were unvarnished (if highly spirited) speed metal courtesy of by Andreas Marschall, not only exemplified the New Wave of German Heavy Olbrich and Kürsch’s twentysomething fury.

Metal—a term coined by German Metal Hammer in 1987—but set the highHard work, home studio investments and exponential musical developwater mark for everything at the time, and all that was to come after it. ment culminated in Tales From the Twilight World in 1990 and appeared to Imaginations From the Other Side celebrated its 25th anniversary in 2020. zenith on Somewhere Far Beyond in 1992, respectively. Blind Guardian were We’re belated in hoisting Blind Guardian’s grandiloquent banner, but no longer just a speed metal act, but evolving into something more, a considering we embarked on this induction in 2019, completing the Hall of sound entirely their own. Speed metal, power metal, classical music, folk Fame all these years later makes up for missing out on the group’s birthday music, and a penchant for classic and old-school rock ‘n’ roll coalesced cake silver. Time to jump through the mirror with Blind Guardian.

BLIND GUARDIAN

PHOTO BY FRANK WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY

DECIBEL : 49 : DECEMBER 2023

DBHOF228

BLIND GUARDIAN imaginations from the other side

Describe the build-up to Imaginations From the Other Side.

HANSI KÜRSCH: Virgin never dared to release Imaginations in the U.S. They were of the opinion that the metal market in the U.S. was, at that point, nonexistent; which was not the case, as we later found out. The good thing about the U.S. market was, around that time, it was still developing. What I mean is tape-trading was still a thing.

Not everything was released in the U.S.—or North America.

Imaginations and the albums before it weren’t the only example.

It was a great time, though.

Looking back, for Blind Guardian, things got bigger and bigger, either with the release of Somewhere Far Beyond or what happened afterward. Actually, I think it’s more accurate to say after Tales From the Twilight World, we were no longer an undergroundonly hit. As a band, it was a constant progress of achieving more and more success [that made it feel real]. The realization of our success was most obvious when we toured Japan for the first time after Somewhere and did the Tokyo Tales [live] album. The intensity of those experiences definitely influenced our approach to Imaginations.

ANDRÉ OLBRICH: Everybody believed heavy metal was dead in the early ’90s. Grunge—or alternative music—had taken over. Americans like Nirvana had taken the lead, and the focus was entirely on bands like that. Labels, in general, wouldn’t even respond to us, but we believed in what we were doing. We weren’t going to give up.

MARCUS SIEPEN: When we started, we had signed to No Remorse Records, a little German label created by Charly Rinne, the former editor-inchief of Metal Hammer. We were his first band.

He ran a great label, but at some point he signed too many bands. He went bankrupt. At the time, No Remorse was distributed by Virgin. By Tales, Virgin was quite familiar with Blind Guardian.

We were selling at a time when heavy metal wasn’t selling. It was the toughest time for heavy metal, but not for us. We didn’t care for grunge.

We didn’t give a flying fuck about it. We went for our own thing—no trends—and were honest about it. They simply offered us a deal based on that fact alone. OK, we were selling. [Laughs] Of course, we went for it.

The success of Blind Guardian globally can be traced back to the Japan tour. But there were rumblings in Europe and, to a lesser extent, in the Americas.

KÜRSCH: Well, we were already on a really high level as musicians and composers. We finally

got the attention that we personally considered that we deserved. I think the successes of Tales, Somewhere and Tokyo gave us a lot of liberty to do whatever we wanted. At the beginning of the ’90s, it did feel that, apart from Blind Guardian and a few others, Europe had exclusively turned to alternative rock. The scene changed drastically and very quickly. Metal bands, in general, suffered a lot. Blind Guardian, strangely, was the opposite. We were metal, and we defined metal at the time. So, we grew and grew. We were young kids—OK, I was almost 30 at that point [laughs]— and we worked very hard. We took Blind Guardian seriously. In that regard, everything seemed to be on our side. We felt invincible.

OLBRICH: We found our style on the Tales album already, but the big breakthrough that opened all doors for us worldwide was indeed Imaginations.

We had reached what I’ll call “professional level” sound-wise. We had Flemming Rasmussen as a producer. He kicked our asses like never before.

For the very first time, we had to be timeaccurate. We also were very innovative. I think we brought something completely fresh to the genre—almost a new genre—with Imaginations.

Nobody played tunes like this before. Tales and Somewhere were speed metal. They were traditional in that regard. There were a lot of great speed metal bands, but no bands doing what we were doing, which I think was trying to develop heavy metal and bring innovation into it. We wanted to add something to the scene. We were building [the band] before, but with Imaginations, Blind Guardian finally stood on its own.

THOMEN STAUCH: With Tales From the Twilight World, we already felt something was going on. We were also getting more mature as people and as musicians. When we toured Japan, we realized we were getting huge. I mean, we were bigger in Japan than in Germany. I remember really DECEMBER 2023 : 50 : DECIBEL

wanting to go to America at the time. America was always in our plan, but for a German band like us in ’95, it wasn’t really possible. It’s so huge, and to cover all that distance and make it worthwhile, we realized we’re going to have to sell a lot of albums. The problem was we didn’t even have a record deal in America.

Describe the songwriting process on Imaginations. It’s incredibly detailed and dense, yet still aggressive, heavy and melodic.

OLBRICH: Well, I started playing around with orchestration on “Theatre of Pain” from Somewhere Far Beyond. From that moment, I saw endless possibilities for bringing in instruments like this. We have so much space [in our music] to explore. So, I continued with orchestration, playing with different ideas in our little studio that we had built up over time, probably since Follow the Blind. I remember that I was almost locked in there. I lived there the whole year, basically. I didn’t see daylight. I was so passionate about the music we were writing that I couldn’t stop. My girlfriend at the time left me. [Laughs] On Imaginations, I had more sequencers and synthesizers to play around with—different kinds of sounds and effects—in the studio. I started to approach songwriting like a soundtrack. It makes you want to dive deeper.

The biggest difference between Somewhere and Imaginations was speed metal. Somewhere, in my eyes, was the perfect speed metal album. I didn’t want to do that again—I wasn’t sure I could, actually. So, I went down a different path. I slowed down the tempos [and] we added in more interesting drum rhythms, sequencers and more complex melodies. “Mordred’s Song” is a good example of this. I remember Hansi hearing and saying, “This is really good. We should try to build on it.” We did exactly that on the

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DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 51

DBHOF228

BLIND GUARDIAN imaginations from the other side

song “Imaginations,” written over a really long period. I think Imaginations was built around the types of basic structures I had on “Mordred’s Song” and “Imaginations,” which is speedy, but also bombastic. Of course, it’s speedy. I always have to have speedy stuff. [Laughs] SIEPEN: We didn’t try to be more complex on purpose. We had our own studio, which helped a lot.

We had everything—even a nice mixing console.

So, we could rehearse and write and record all on the same day. Because we were in our studio all the time, we learned how to play around with layers, building guitar harmonies and big vocals with choirs. We were doing things in the studio that couldn’t really be done in a traditional rehearsal room.

KÜRSCH: All the money we made off of Battalions of Fear and Follow the Blind went right back into the studio that we used all the way up to Imaginations. We would write and do pre-production at the same time—we were so dedicated. By Imaginations, we had a new studio with 16- and 24-tracks, which were maintained together to give us 40 tracks to work with. There was no daylight in our studio. No windows. It was a dark hole—basically, a shelter. We had a really nice studio that we had built up over the years. It had a bar. [Laughs] We’d invite our friends to the studio and party whenever we’d have downtime.

I remember we had record company people from Japan over at the studio. They brought 20-25 Japanese fans with them. It was crazy. We played some of the Imaginations stuff we had written and recorded. Their facial expressions immediately told us we had our milestone. If the record company people were excited about the music, we were thinking, “What happens when our real fans hear it?” We had our style, our sound and really good feedback. We had good indicators early on that Imaginations was going to be special.

STAUCH: As a band, when we started songwriting—even on Imaginations—I don’t think we had a dedicated plan of where to go.

We had basic ideas—to sound more thrashy, more flashy, more melodic or bombastic. It was natural, more based on what we were feeling at the time. We had simple parts and we had epic parts. I remember discussing the songwriting on Imaginations [with the rest of the band]. “Are we doing the right thing here?” We had questions, but I think as soon as the songs matured, we knew, in parts, what it was going to become.

In the past, we did a lot of work together as a band in rehearsal. Over time we got gear and computers, and eventually, the songs were put together in pieces. André would write a lot at night in his home studio. The next day, he’d transfer everything to Hansi. Hansi would check it out, looking for parts that he could sing on.

Hansi would then call me up and say, “Hey,

Thomen, André did another song. Can you come by and record some drums?” That’s how we ended up working. We were so dedicated to our process that I think that’s all we ever thought about.

The studio switch on Imaginations was, in retrospect, a smart move. What facilitated the change from Karo Musik Studios with Kalle Trapp to Sweet Silence Studios with Flemming Rasmussen?

KÜRSCH: Kalle had different ideas about Somewhere Far Beyond. He doesn’t budge when he makes decisions—he’s so stubborn. Then, we didn’t really like the way he treated Tokyo Tales.

We knew then that we had to find a new producer. We were desperately looking for Flemming Rasmussen because of Metallica and Pretty Maids. We are big Metallica and big Pretty Maids fans. He was willing to produce us because he liked us so much. I mean, he liked the pre-production demos. We had a blast doing the album with Flemming.

“I was so passionate about the music we were writing that I couldn’t stop.

My girlfriend at the time left me.”

A N D RÉ O LB RICH STAUCH: The record company wanted it, we wanted it and we believed in it [recording at Sweet Silence Studios]. The first discussions with Flemming before Imaginations were interesting. He didn’t even want to engineer Blind Guardian, let alone produce Blind Guardian. I guess he didn’t believe in what we were doing. It was Flemming’s wife who convinced him that we were a “cool band.” She said we were a “wonderful band.” She convinced him to work with us. We had a really great time in Denmark. We laughed so much— I’m happy I didn’t miss all that.

SIEPEN: I mean, obviously, Flemming was running a studio and was producing, and we were a band that wanted to work in the studio and were willing to pay the bill. In the beginning, before we met, it was a business decision. It can work on a strictly business level as well, but if everything clicks as it did on Imaginations, it’s much better because everyone’s more involved in things if we’re not just clients. I remember when we finished the recordings and mixing everything, we were invited to his place. We DECEMBER 2023 : 5 2 : DECIBEL

had a big dinner there. Flemming’s wife was cooking and everything. It was great. I guess I have to thank her twice. [Laughs] Recording with Flemming eventually turned into a longstanding friendship.

OLBRICH: We met several guys before Flemming.

None of them were as legendary as Flemming.

He did Metallica. There were no discussions about his quality. The only discussion we had was whether or not we could afford Flemming.

[Laughs] If I remember correctly, we were immediate friends. When we first met, we didn’t even talk about music or the production of it. We talked about life and the world. We eventually got Virgin to agree to work with Flemming. We were so lucky. He became a bit like a father to us.

He was so interested in us and teaching us the ins and outs of the rock ‘n’ roll business. I guess we were a bit naïve, and he saw that. So, recording Imaginations at Sweet Silence Studios was the whole package. We had a producer, a coach, his wife and a great studio. All of this made it possible for Blind Guardian to reach the next level on [1998’s] Nightfall in Middle-Earth.

André was injured during the songwriting process. What happened?

STAUCH: We were actually in the studio recording Imaginations in Denmark when it happened.

André suddenly had that problem with his arm, with his fingers. His fingers were absolutely numb—he could not feel them anymore. He woke up like that. We were a month into the studio when he had to return to Germany for surgery and then to recover. I remember picking him up from the hospital, “What’s going on?!”

André, I could tell was stressed out, said, “Fuck, I don’t know! I’m not sure I’ll be ready for the final recordings.” Of course, it was around that time when he wrote “Bright Eyes” and “Another Holy War,” both discussed as possibly not good enough to appear on Imaginations. I thought they were crazy. “Bright Eyes” ended up being one of the singles. [Laughs] OLBRICH: I was playing, recording “Requiem,” and all of a sudden, I couldn’t feel the fingers of my left hand anymore. I went to a doctor. He found out a nerve running between the bones was almost cut through. I needed an operation. And I had an operation—I still have the scar. So, we had to take a break in the middle of the production. That was my worst, my darkest moment during the production. It took almost five months before my arm recovered before I could play again. I could play, but not like I was used to.

That was probably one of the hardest times in my life because I was not sure if my fingers would come back. I couldn’t feel them and I thought, “Oh my God, is this the end of my career?” I was really worried and really sad about it. During the break, I wrote “Bright Eyes.” I had the time, and my arm was working a little bit. I wrote the riffs and sent them to Hansi. To think about it

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now, if I hadn’t had the injury, I wouldn’t have written “Bright Eyes,” one of the most important songs on Imaginations. So, out of something bad came something good. I’ll always remember and feel this inside my heart. I learned a lot about life while recording Imaginations.

KÜRSCH: I thought he was just being nervous.

Things had started to get serious in the studio.

We figured out that his problem was really serious. That’s when he went back to Germany for surgery. At that point, we had only finished “Imaginations” and “A Past and Future Secret.”

Actually, we were able to finish “A Past and Future Secret” without André. The label wanted to release a single—a sort of “sign of life,” as they put it. Here we are in the studio with Flemming, and André can’t finish recording. So, we decided to release “A Past and Future Secret” as a single months ahead of the album itself. We were concerned that André wouldn’t continue, but in the end, he got the surgery, wrote “Bright Eyes,” and we eventually finished recording Imaginations. Time well spent, I think. [Laughs] Lyrically, there’s a minor concept involved.

Can you elaborate on what you were thinking at the time?

KÜRSCH: It was the beginning of a new era, and that can be seen by the simple fact that Germany was unified again. We had the second Gulf War, which had a big impact on everyone.

The Iron Curtain came down, and with the Iron Curtain, the Soviet Union and a lot of things changed around that time. I captured some of all that on Imaginations. With the Gulf War, for example, the way media reported incidents like that changed. And to a certain extent, everything, in my opinion, got more staged or more channeled. So, you really were not sure what was truth and what was, as we call it nowadays, “fake news.” But that started around that time. This had a strong impact on the way I looked at things, even when it came to the simple things that I had worked on before, which mainly were fantasy and mythology. I also felt that everything was far more connected than I saw before.

There always has been a sort of twist to each myth. There is great value in tales and myths, for example, but they can also easily be used as a tool of manipulation.

I think that comes very clear when you look at things like religion, which also plays a very important role in Imaginations. Religion is abused in many ways. It is blamed for many things.

It has to be blamed for many things, but sometimes it’s just used as an excuse, but it’s not the main reason for things going wrong. I try to point out on the album that nothing is really certain and that it is, at least for me, difficult to rely on things. So, that is basically the story of “Imaginations” and “Bright Eyes”—a person stuck in a cruel reality. But somehow, this person realizes that there is another world, which is depending on him.

So, that is the story told, the setup on “Imaginations.” This guy, at the end of the story, has to make a courageous jump to another world and play an important role there. His decision is not made on the album. The story’s left open on purpose. If you look into this concept, I realize that over the years, and I may have thought about it back then, but it was not so much in my mind how closely related this was. Micheal Ende’s The Neverending Story certainly had an impact. I knew the story, originally by a German in German [as Die unendliche Geschichte], and I knew the movie. I can see the handwriting—which wasn’t intended—of Ende’s story all over “Imaginations.”

Blind Guardian are known for their cover songs.

Many of them—Uriah Heep, the Chordettes, Deep Purple, the Beach Boys, the Regents and Little Richard—had more visibility around Imaginations. In general, they were courageous moves by a band putting it all on the line.

KÜRSCH: We have a crush on these untypical— what do you call them?—pop songs, triplet

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songs, rock ‘n’ roll songs. Maybe jazzy songs.

The idea is to basically destroy the songs, starting out normal and then letting it all fall apart or whatever happens next. “Mr. Sandman” was a good choice for that. Virgin totally believed in “Mr. Sandman.” They thought it’d make us superstars. It didn’t [Laughs]. That’s why there’s “Bright Eyes” [as a single] in Japan and “Mr. Sandman” [as a single] in Germany. The Japanese knew better. That’s how [1996 comp] Forgotten Tales sort of came to be, which is a different story altogether. I think at the time, we also needed more songs for B-sides, so we decided on a few Blind Guardian-type songs. We all had agreed on “Systems Failing” by the Michael Schenker Group and Uriah Heep’s “The Wizard.” I’m a big Uriah Heep fan.

When we get to Denmark, we find out that Flemming hates cover songs—no matter who plays them! He simply thought they were a waste of time. He hated the song “Mr. Sandman” so much that he, at first, refused to record the vocals. [Laughs] He was really picky on everything we did apart from the cover versions. For the covers, he just dropped the record button once, and whatever we did was good enough. “The Wizard” was one in one take with Flemming.

Back then, it wasn’t too easy to find lyrics.

Marcus, Flemming and I listened to the song and wrote down the lyrics word for word—or, at least, we thought so. [Laughs] To this very day, I’m not too sure we got all the words right, but when Mick Box heard it sometime later, he was pleased. I was happy we did the song justice.

The reason why “Systems Failing” wasn’t fully recorded at the time was due to André’s injury.

We finally released “Systems Failing” on the 25th Anniversary edition of Imaginations.

www.helmetmusic.com | www.ear-music.net

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OLBRICH: After we had recorded “Mr. Sandman,” we refused to put it on Imaginations. Virgin insisted “Mr. Sandman” was going to be a hit.

They said, “You have to put this on an album.”

We said, “No—it doesn’t fit!” It had no place on Imaginations. We put a bunch of cover songs together on Forgotten Tales, which took about two weeks. Again, Virgin thought we had a hit with “Mr. Sandman.” They were in love with the idea.

The smash never happened. It was all an illusion.

[Laughs] After “Mr. Sandman,” they realized we were best left to do what Blind Guardian does best.

German artist Andreas Marschall was recognized for his cover artwork for Kreator, Mordred, Obituary and Sodom. Of course, he was no stranger to Blind Guardian either.

The window concept of the front/back covers exemplified his attention to detail, and I think that paired perfectly with the ornate qualities of the album. Tell me about the cover art.

KÜRSCH: Andreas was, in my opinion, at his peak on Imaginations. Of course, he’s still great—no question—but there was something special happening at the time [with him]. Maybe it’s all nostalgia. [Laughs] To really see the complete picture of Imaginations, it’s important to check out the cover paintings he did for the Mr. Sandman and A Past and Future Secret singles.

OLBRICH: Andreas was very creative. What he did with the artwork was extraordinary. It was such a fantasy, but it was much better than all the fantasy book covers at that time. Imaginations had a deeper meaning, telling a deeper story. I really liked that you could turn around the album [cover] and see another part of the story [on the back cover]. It was extraordinary for that time to have artwork like this.

ANDREAS MARSCHALL: The goal was to design a door to another world that you, the viewer, would be able to have the sensation of entering that world. That’s why there’s such a strong color contrast. I remember there was a book— which was based on Walt Disney’s Pinocchio movie—that had three-dimensional art on the inside. And as a child, I really felt I could enter the fantasy world [of the book]. The cover painting (done with acrylic colors, airbrush and very, very fine brushes) is the heritage of this childhood experience. I tried to paint so three-dimensional and so detailed that the viewer feels like jumping into them. If you look closely, you can see stuff from other Blind Guardian albums, like the Sandman character—which is kind of based on Stephen King’s Pennywise character—from the Mr. Sandman [single], and the time machine from Somewhere Far Beyond. I love old cameras and typewriters, and I make a lot of steampunk machines. A lot of stuff I collect or make is also in there. There’s a lot of me in the covers.

Bright dyes  Andreas Marschall’s cover art featured on an equally trippy tie-dyed shirt

There are two videos for Imaginations: “Bright Eyes” and “Born in a Mourning Hall.” What were those shoots like?

Guardian well. Virgin got the super-expensive video with “Mr. Sandman.”

OLBRICH: We were always dependent on other people and the concepts of other people at the time. Virgin came up with a film team and said, “We have an idea how to feature this.” So, they came up with this “Bright Eyes” concept, which was so cliché heavy metal that when I see it now, I can barely make it all the way through. “Born in a Mourning Hall” was a live video filmed in Dortmund. I think that video came out well. Our performance was powerful. But it’s not really a video in the traditional sense. It’s just expensive live footage. In hindsight, we were too green behind the ears to know any better. That and videos are expensive, and unless the budget is unlimited, the videos will always look amateur.

KÜRSCH: I must confess that it was not the record company behind the song choices. It was us. And I cannot even exactly tell you why we went for “Bright Eyes.” It made sense as a radio single or as a video single because it was edited down. Videos were expensive back then, so getting a shorter song to do made financial sense. The opposite is true of “Past and Future Secret,” which would’ve meant a total fantasybased video, which was (and still is) extremely expensive. “A Past and Future Secret” was obviously out. “Born in a Mourning Hall” was done without Virgin even knowing about it. We felt we needed a second video. We were basically done when we told them we were doing it. It’s not really commercial, but it defines Blind

Tell me about the tours for Imaginations From the Other Side. You toured Europe and Japan, and did a one-off, sort-of legendary show in Thailand.

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KÜRSCH: Up to Imaginations, we ran our own [band] business. We didn’t have management— every band that we knew had management. That was pretty radical for the time. On Imaginations, we finally got management, American management, believe it or not. For two years, we toured under American management, which, if I’m being honest, did no good for Blind Guardian.

The management team was supposed to get our record, Imaginations, released in America. They didn’t. Chrysalis, who I think was part of Virgin then, simply refused. Our popularity in the States and Canada was zero.

In Europe, we played our first shows in Spain, Italy and Greece, all of which were outstanding.

For the first time, we experienced audiences that would sing along with us—throughout the whole show. I have to tell you, we built up on that and have abused it heavily ever since. During these shows for Imaginations, I realized the complexity of the songs was a struggle for me to play bass and sing simultaneously. We did a very successful tour with Imaginations in Japan. I mean, big shows. We were supposed to tour all of Southeast Asia, too, but the economic crisis at the time killed all that. The only country we did end up playing in was Thailand. I remember we

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played live radio shows there and one of them was a complete disaster. I think we were also completely wasted at the Bangkok show. [Laughs] We were definitely into enjoying life at the time.

We did end up dropping the Americans. We’ve managed ourselves since.

STAUCH: I remember really huge tours. They were the first tours where we played with our equipment in every territory, which was great in some cases, but financially horrible in others.

We brought all of our own gear to Japan. The shipping company prices were awful. [Laughs] We learned our lesson with that one. We had our own personal catering, which was pretty cool, but also kind of made no sense. In general, it was professional, but many roadies were old friends. They were fine for a while, but we realized during the Imaginations tours that if we wanted to go to the next level, we would have to get rid of our friends. We had to make some hard decisions. There’s a big difference between friends and professional roadies. When real problems come up, they handle them. Friends complain. [Laughs] SIEPEN: We picked Nevermore as the support band in Europe, which was also a perfect choice.

We were always picky about support bands in the early days because we always wanted a band we liked with us. And we were big fans of Nevermore. We always loved Sanctuary back in the day. And then when Sanctuary didn’t exist anymore, but Nevermore came, we were like, “We want those guys.”

In Japan, we always played without support bands. The shows were really quite big—our “Beatles moment.” It was absurd at points.

[Laughs] We stayed at the Hilton in Tokyo—or Osaka, I don’t remember. We had bouncers! I’m a regular guy, so the idea of bouncers was something that I never liked. But the hotel lobby was crowded with screaming fans. In the elevator, there was this old couple—probably in their late 60s—and the bouncer kicked them out. I was fucking so pissed off that I started screaming at the bouncer. Of course, nobody spoke English— or fucking German—and I didn’t speak Japanese. It was so embarrassing. The show did end up having like 7,000 people, so it kind of made up for the elevator moment.

Thailand was crazy. We had just flown in from Japan, we were hung over, stuck in Bangkok traffic forever with a police escort like in the movies, and there was this van thing. It looked like a super-futuristic Batmobile, only worse. It had our logo painted on the side of it, with these huge speakers coming out the sides blasting Imaginations at deafening volumes. All of this was going from the airport to the hotel. Crazy times!

At least I can say I played at the Hard Rock Café in Bangkok. [Laughs]

“When we get to Denmark, we find out that [engineer] Flemming [Rasmussen] hates cover songs— no matter who plays them! He simply thought they were a waste of time. He hated the song ‘Mr. Sandman’ so much that he, at first, refused to record the vocals.”

HA NSI KÜRSCH Is it strange that Imaginations has, in many ways, become an influential album to heavy metal’s newest generations in the same way that albums by Black Sabbath, Judas Priest or Iron Maiden were to your generation?

OLBRICH: I think it had a big influence. I mean, at least I heard the same from many bands and many musicians. They thought Imaginations was outstanding, which I appreciate. If musicians are influenced by Blind Guardian—without copying us—then I’ll say they’re continuing heavy metal and what it means to all of us, which is very important.

STAUCH: That’s a very interesting question and a very complicated question. When I was out of Blind Guardian, people would come up to me and say, “Thomen, why did you leave Blind Guardian? Do you know how much impact you had on musicians around the world? You created something that you own forever. People started doing music just because of you.” I never really know how to respond. My first reaction is, “What the fuck are you talking about?” [Laughs] It’s hard for me to really think about the music I DECEMBER 2023 : 58 : DECIBEL

did in Blind Guardian in that way. I’m thankful people think so, though.

KÜRSCH: I’m always surprised and impressed, of course, hearing that, because I knew that Blind Guardian has always been a band for the listener.

And, of course, some of the listeners also become musicians. As mentioned, I felt we were the metal band of the hour on Imaginations because there was not much I would consider competitive to what we did then.

SIEPEN: It’s great. I mean, it’s an honor to hear that—I love it! It just shows how much our music means to some people that they said, “OK, you are the reason that I started playing in a band, too. You’re the reason that I picked up an instrument. I wanted to learn to play guitar like you or sing like Hansi or whatever.” It just shows that whatever we have been doing for the last 35-37 or how many years it has been, it means something to people. Obviously, creating music is a rather selfish thing. We write songs for ourselves. It’s our job to worry about what we like about our songs. In heavy metal, I think that’s pretty universal.

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How

AGALLOCH’S

deep roots fed the Northwest metal legends’ welcome reemergence ST ORY BY

B

DANI EL L AK E

PH OT OS BY

SHI MON K AR ME L

alve is a modest town situated in the Hönne river valley of western Germany, awash in a heady blend of myth and history. The 13th century Norwegian Þiðreks saga af Bern calls Balve home to a pair of dwarves who instructed Wayland the legendary smith in the art of forging weapons from iron. In the 19th century, a great cave portal north of the town— simply called Balver Höhle—was mined for sediment to be used as field fertilizer, and later the cave’s entryway hosted highly ceremonial marksmen’s festivals (Schützenfeste) that held high cultural importance throughout central Europe. ¶ During the second World War, Balver Höhle was repurposed as an armaments factory, and it was scheduled for destruction by Allied forces in the aftermath of that conflict. Those plans were never executed, allowing the space to be used for various theatrical and musical festivals in the decades leading into the 21st century. Since 2015, German music label Prophecy Productions has used Balver Höhle to celebrate their consistently extraordinary roster, treating Prophecy Fest attendees to a one-of-a-kind event: a cavern full of metal. ¶ And in 2023, as the very article you are reading manifests itself on Decibel’s computer screen, a reignited Agalloch stand again in front of an audience that has hungered for this return ever since the band disintegrated in 2016, after having won metal hearts with their evergreen riffs and misty melodies for the better part of 20 years.

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“Playing in a cave?” guitarist Don Anderson quips archly. “Agalloch’s never played a cave.”

“We want to be celebratory,” explains bassist Jason William Walton. “We want to play places we’ve never been before. Let’s play in a cave!”

“Shows need to be special, rewarding, interesting,” vocalist and multi-instrumentalist John Haughm echoes. “When they offered us Prophecy Fest in a cave, we’re like, ‘That’s interesting!’”

The Prophecy Fest appearance is one of only three performances that Agalloch have scheduled for 2023. Perhaps they’ll play shows in 2024. Perhaps they won’t. “If we don’t play a show next year, I don’t care, I’m fine with that,” Haughm says in a tone that speaks more about his determination to care for himself and his band than any imagined disregard for fans of his music. “If we do, let’s make sure it’s worth it. I know it sounds elitist, but I’m 47 years old.

There’s definitely reservations. We’ve got to tread carefully. It feels like playing with fire.

We’re not going to tour the world. We’re not going to play little venues. You open up that Pandora’s box and it could turn into 2015 again, and I don’t want that.”

“It’s exactly how it was in the ’90s,” says Walton of the band’s carefully curated public schedule. “When we first started playing live, we’d play a couple shows a year and it was an event. Towards the end, before we broke up, we were playing so much, people started not going.”

“Part of what made Agalloch break up and fall apart was it was starting to control us,” Anderson agrees. “It was becoming this big thing that we had to feed. I think there was a crack under that pressure. Right now, it’s the reverse.

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have to. We don’t have to do this. We’re not doing it for the money. We’re all employed. We’re all fine financially. If we don’t want to do a gig, we just don’t do it.”

If you, incensed reader, think it does indeed sound elitist for an adored band of longtime friends, who gifted the world five exceptional albums and a smattering of inspired EPs, to be discriminating about when and where they choose to perform, then, to quote Shane Mehling’s decade-old musings on Neurosis, “First of all, fuck you.” Agalloch are an elite band. As their booking agent, Nathan Carson (who drums for Witch Mountain and the Keening while running the Nanotear Booking agency) declares, “Agalloch’s music resonates with people around the world. It was a shame to see them fold for no particularly good reason. I’m happy that they’re back… They need to play these first shows and see if it’s actually a good time. If it’s not fun, it’s not worth doing.”

Then he throws a portentous jab: “I think it will be.”

GREAT COLD DEATH Agalloch had a glorious first life, and its end was

tragically messy. In conversations with the band now, with the breakup now years in the rearview, they are able to share honest words borne of long introspection.

“The way that split happened was really unfortunate,” Haughm admits. “There were a lot of hard feelings, a lot of confusion, a lot of misinformation. I wanted to do very different things musically, and I wanted to tour more. I wanted to be happy with what I was doing, and I wasn’t at that time. That’s what led to the dissolution

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of the band. That dramatic bullshit happened largely because I was a fucking stinking alcoholic at the time. That was something that came from the stress of Agalloch for years, building up. That last tour, there are shows I don’t even remember because I was blackout drunk while I was playing them. It was becoming that stereotypical VH1 special story. It led to this awful drama. Not to mention, when I said something about [the breakup], I used some words I shouldn’t have used.”

Haughm then invokes Carson as the unheeded voice of reason: “Our booking agent said, ‘This is one of those situations when you really need management. Management would have kept it from being a mess.’ We self-managed, which was a big mistake for a band at that level. [But] I didn’t care. At the time, I was focused on my stuff, like, ‘That’s in the past. That was 20 years of my life that probably should have been less.’

“I jumped right in to doing Pillorian.

Fortunately for me, I was with two guys locally [bassist/guitarist Stephen Parker and drummer Trevor Matthews] who were just as hungry as I was, and we were on the same page. During that summer, we wrote that album. None of those songs—I will say this again and again—none of those songs were Agalloch songs. I had a very acrimonious attitude [at that time], and that’s what drove Pillorian. That’s why that album has such a fire to it. We accepted that we were a band of scorn—that’s where the name came from.

‘We’re just going to go out there and pulverize these audiences and not give a shit what people are saying about us.’ We captured that energy, that creativity. It was a good way to handle a lot of that backlash, a lot of that stress, but it ate that band up.”

Part of what made Agalloch break up and fall apart was it was starting to control us. It was becoming this big thing that we had to feed.

I think there was a crack under that pressure.

RIGHT NOW, IT’S THE REVERSE.

DON ANDE R SON

Pillorian burned bright—Obsidian Arc is a bonfire of raw rage and musical ambition that deserves better than the one-and-done side project status it has been afforded—and then Pillorian burned out. Haughm went public with some ill-advised commentary, crossed a line that his bandmates couldn’t accept, and Pillorian ended.

Still, Haughm was hardly without a creative outlet. He continued to cultivate the multimedia solo work that he had begun developing years earlier. “I’ve been doing solo work since 2011, and it’s evolved from weird abstract sound experiments to collaborations to this 1800s period piece thing that I’m doing now. What I’m creating now are essentially Ennio Morricone soundtracks, but with an HM-2 pedal and big loud amps.

“I’m doing a trilogy. The first album [The Last Place I Remember] evokes the atmosphere of this nomad’s journey through the metaphysical desert. It’s harsh, extreme. It’s heavily influenced by Richard Stanley’s Hardware—which has Carl McCoy from Fields of the Nephilim playing a nomad—and Neil Young’s soundtrack for Dead Man, which is all guitar-based with effects. I wanted to have a project where I combined those two things into this Western score. The first album is more about the journey and the terrain.

“The second album [1865 // 1895: Cast.Iron.

Blood.] is about the time period when this nomadic character is from. The third [forthcoming] album is like a funeral record, about when he was hanged in 1899 and became a wandering ghost. It’s going to be a lot more ambient, with more in common musically to the first album, 64 : SEPTEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

but more morose and solemn, less of the rockish film score that Cast.Iron.Blood. was. And it’s going to circle right back around to end how the first album begins.”

Haughm’s solo live performances link the musical narrative to video accompaniment, much of which he shot himself. Over the years, his stage setup has become more complex, and he is still learning how to make the process manageable, trying everything from pairing background tracks directly to the video and using in-ear monitors to bringing all of his own projection equipment, just to gain as much control over the outcome as possible.

“John is such a well-rounded artist in so many ways,” Walton says of Haughm’s distinct solo approach. “I think it’s different than anything I know of. Not even just the music, but the outfit, the projection—he’s shown me details about that performance that nobody would ever know except for him, but because he knows it, it informs his performance. That’s so brilliant.

John has taught me so much over the years about presentation, about image. What he’s pulling off with his solo project is really amazing.”

At the dawn of a promising new era for Agalloch, Haughm is careful to clarify his priorities. “Now that Agalloch is somewhat active again, I am concerned that may affect my solo work. The new material that I’m writing is for my solo project. If people think that’s dumb, I don’t fucking care. That’s what’s in my heart.”

Haughm hopes to expand his solo project’s stage experience with artists he feels share a particular

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kinship. He has already played with like minds in Sólstafir and the Vision Bleak, and he drops names like Wayfarer, Swans, Fields of the Nephilim and Spiritual Front as intriguing tourmates. “My solo stuff isn’t stuck in the metal milieu. On an artistic level, it’s in a different place.”

A MOMENT OF UNCERTAINTY Anderson and Walton have publicly expressed

their grief over Agalloch’s dissolution multiple times in the years since it happened. “Losing Agalloch was absolutely devastating for me,” Walton confirms. “That was a huge part of my identity. It’s my life’s work. The breakup was really hard. I can’t speak for John, but it was definitely hard on Don and me.”

Anderson describes the almost unconscious choice to move forward musically under a new identity. “I know the three of us [including drummer Aesop Dekker] were stunned. When Agalloch broke up, we felt the rug had been pulled out from underneath us. ‘Who are we?

Do we have a professional musical existence anymore? What do we do? We don’t have a live band!’ We’ve always had our projects, but they weren’t anywhere comparable to the rigor of Agalloch. In hindsight, we immediately decided to keep playing, somewhat out of panic. I don’t mean that to sound belittling to what Khôrada was. But we were also upset. We wanted to fill that hole with something.”

Anderson, Walton and Dekker brought on Giant Squid/Squalus warbler A.J. Gregory and directed their unspent artistic energy into Khôrada, whose sole album Salt is both a compositional tour de force and a head-scratcher. It shares sonic qualities with some of those mid’00s records from Georgia bands like Baroness, Kylesa and Mastodon, but with a much grander scope that links it back to the progressive structures of Giant Squid and Sculptured. Sometime after the record landed, though, the quartet decided they had nothing more to say in that configuration, and by the end of 2019, they quietly parted ways.

Anderson stoked the old sylvan spirit with a few solo acoustic performances of familiar Agalloch tunes. “Which also seemed tragically cliché as a thing to do—your band breaks up, so you go out to exploit it by playing an acoustic guitar. But it was fun. I played two local shows here [in Portland], and then an outside festival. And then I got invited to play in Antwerp, Belgium. It was a wonderful show: Aerial Ruin, Saor, Marisa Kaye Janke from Isenordal, Panopticon and myself. I had [Erik Moggridge from] Aerial Ruin come on and join me for vocals, and I joined him, and Marisa played viola on ‘Bloodbirds,’ and I guested on one of Austin [Lunn’s] Panopticon songs and he guested on my song. It was bittersweet, but it was wonderful.”

Do we have the print space to talk about Anderson’s professorial work, teaching a

presents

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DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 65

college-level horror film studies class as a meditation on the limits of our control? Or to indulge in Anderson’s personal renaissance through the trials and triumphs of new fatherhood? We do not, but those experiences—sharpened during a global pandemic, no less—have been at least as impactful as his rock career.

Musically, the absence of the Agalloch and Khôrada time sinks also meant that Anderson could return creative attention to his romantic progressive metal project Sculptured. This highly collaborative identity had existed alongside Agalloch since the late ’90s—in fact, there’s an argument to be made that Sculptured is the slightly older twin. While Haughm conceived Agalloch’s earliest form, Anderson was already birthing Sculptured. Walton moved to Portland in ’97 specifically to join Sculptured, and the trio often worked on both projects simultaneously, though the recording timeline tended to favor Sculptured before giving Agalloch its turn. There was even an early sense that Sculptured would be their primary focus while Agalloch remained the more underground band.

“I never harbored any resentment that Agalloch took up almost the entirety of my musical life, because I love Agalloch just as much as Sculptured,” Anderson reasons, “but I always had songs demoed. I knew [new Sculptured] was going to happen eventually. Then when Agalloch broke up, I dove into it and wrapped it up.”

The Liminal Phase, released in 2021, was the first set of new Sculptured songs since 2008’s gnarled Embodiment, and Anderson had a specific vision for this new moment in the band’s evolution. “For Liminal, I wanted to write a more accessible record. It sounds really natural, all clean vocals. Every band has a commercialsounding record, so I was like, ‘That’ll be it.’”

And there’s more on the way—already nearly finished recording. “The new one is back to [being] a little more challenging and weird—not quite as crazy as Embodiment, but much more technical [than Liminal].”

“Sculptured is very much Don’s baby,” says Walton. “He’s the dictator, but I’ve always been second-in-command on the Sculptured boat. It’s been assumed that I will be in Sculptured for the duration. Now I’ve taken on a producer and engineer role, too. We’re doing a lot of recording for the new one at home, and I’m mixing it. I did a lot of that for The Liminal Phase as well. I think we learned a lot from that process, so this time I’ve been very adamant about the way things should be done, and because of that, it’s a much better record in general.”

STRONG BUT DAMAGED It’s here, in the attempt to discuss Walton’s

extra-Agalloch activities, that the internet’s promise of infinite accurate information sparks angrily, browns out and then utterly fails. The man is now, has been and always shall be a 66 : SEPTEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

Once Pillorian was done, I had to take a look at myself.

I GOT A REALLY UGLY LOOK IN THE MIRROR.

I spent the rest of that year and into the next year just trying to redevelop myself and find a better path, mentally.

JOH N HAUGHM

flesh-and-blood factory of creative endeavors.

Even putting aside the oddball deep-cut curiosities like Self Spiller, Especially Likely Sloth, Nothing and that old teen-years chestnut Victimized by Gypsies, Walton’s credits mimic the Charlie Day conspiracy board meme with his own web of offshoots and experiments.

“Officially,” Walton teases. “I think I’m still a member of Celestiial, Tanner Anderson’s doom metal band.” This is an especially cruel taunt— Celestiial issued a pair of nature doom masterpieces before burrowing back into northern soils, still dormant after more than a decade.

He plays in Nick Wusz’s acoustic doom project, Dolven, and he recently took the stage with F-Space at the Lunasa Cascadia art and music festival. “F-Space is a long-running experimental project that kind of took the Bay Area by storm back in the day,” Walton explains. “[Co-founder] Scot Jenerik works with fire a lot, so the instruments he plays are percussive instruments with propane tanks inside them, and they shoot fire all over the place. He’s been inviting me to play with F-Space for a long time, and we were finally able to make it happen. We have certain sections that are really planned out and more song-oriented, and we improv the other sections and see where the music takes us. It was really fun to do that for the first time.”

This modus operandi mirrors the way Walton has been performing his solo MoonBladder project as well, which itself seems connected to the collective effort he leads in Snares of Sixes… or possibly it isn’t, really. “I’ve made it very confusing for

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people. Snares of Sixes has two records out: Yeast Mother and MoonBladder. But Snares of Sixes is a separate entity from MoonBladder. MoonBladder is me when I’m working solo. Snares of Sixes is always a collaboration between a large group of people, [and] there’s a core of three people: myself, Robert Hunter [also of Missing Scenes] and Marius Sjøli. We’re going to start working on another full-length, so there is some Snares stuff coming down the line. I’m about 90 percent done with a debut MoonBladder LP. I considered calling the MoonBladder debut Snares of Sixes, just to confuse the issue further.”

While Haughm’s solo process is exacting, meant to replicate a precisely defined sonic space, Walton’s MoonBladder seeks the slimmest margin of control over chaos. “That’s intentional. That’s not me being neglectful of my set,” he assures. “When I’m performing, if I’m not on the edge of disaster, then it gets boring. I want to have those moments. In Eugene on Wednesday, a pedal failed in the middle of the set. It was feeding me different information, so I had to react to it. Because of that, I got into this really cool, trancey-droney section that I never would have done otherwise. It’s my job to take those accidents and turn them into something cool.

Sometimes I can do it, sometimes I can’t.

“There’s a definite trajectory with the set, things that I’m trying to accomplish, but again, the gear I’m using—three different Walkmen, a Kaoss Pad, a bunch of different pedals, some synths—is not always predictable or reliable.

I look at MoonBladder the way a lot of

UNDERGROUND MUSIC SINCE

| WWW.IODINERECORDS.COM | @IODINERECORDINGS

DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 67

comedians work: Each time I play, I’m working out my hour, trying to figure out how I can do it better next time. My work with MoonBladder is much more cinematic than a lot of noise. I like to think of it as being a soundtrack for a modern horror film, like a Lars Von Trier film or The VVitch or something like that.”

Did we forget to mention Walton’s most recently realized collaboration, the war-torn ambient paranoia of Crossed Paths, which he created with ex-Bolt Thrower drummer Andy Whale? At the moment, there are 20 minutes of recorded material available, and Walton promises more to come soon. Have you bought any of the official wearable merch repping Disharmonic Orchestra, Nuclear Death or fucking Confessor that he printed under his Earth in Sound banner? Have you listened to his pristinely produced and recently rebooted I Hate Music podcast, where he has frank and friendly conversations with the many interesting people in his life?

When we said the man was busy, we meant like a proverbial nose walking into a grindstone convention. No wonder it took so long to bring Agalloch back into focus.

AN ASTRAL DIALOGUE But before there could be Agalloch, there needed

to be reconciliation. When Anderson decided to reach out to Haughm again, the best ways to reconnect were “movies, booze and records, man!” Anderson smiles right through the audioonly phone call. “It was like nothing ever happened. It was seamless. I know it sounds cliché.

When I’m at a record store in town, I’ll let him know, [and ask] if he wants to swing by and get a beer afterwards.”

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“We were friends again, but it was like it was in 1996,” Haughm relates. “There wasn’t the weight of the band on our shoulders. I was showing him some of my solo stuff, he was showing me new Sculptured stuff. It was really great to have that again. I know he missed that camaraderie, and I certainly did as well.”

Walton’s relationship with Anderson had never frayed, but his forgiveness of Haughm was a slow process. Haughm mentions seeing Walton at one of Anderson’s acoustic shows, and then again extending an olive branch a few months later, but neither attempt broke through. “Don did one of Jason’s podcasts,” Haughm says. “They were talking about Agalloch and the history of it, and they just sounded very sad. As much as I didn’t care about the band, it affected me in how they were talking about it very nostalgically. It was like they’d lost a child.”

“I was talking with my friend Ramin Hosseinabad,” Walton explains, “and he was like, ‘Dude, you’re the one holding this up. Let John talk to you. You’re the one being dumb in this situation.’ It really took me a long time to accept that, but I finally did. Don said, ‘Hey John and Jason, you want to come over, have a beer in the backyard?’ We did, and from there we just slowly started hanging out again. In the process, I understood where John was coming from better than I ever had. And I think vice versa, too, which leads to forgiveness.”

For his part, Haughm sees the plank in his own eye just fine. “Once Pillorian was done, I had to take a look at myself. I got a really ugly look in the mirror. I spent the rest of that year and into the next year just trying to redevelop myself and find a better path, mentally. I think that also

68

helped Jason come back. He just hated how negative and what an asshole I was, all the time.”

Walton is starkly realistic about the situation, and all the more grateful for it. “I don’t want to sugarcoat it: Agalloch definitely broke up.

Agalloch was unmanageable. It was too big for us to handle. We had different priorities at the time. I think it had to crash and burn in order for us to heal and come back years later. I wish it didn’t go down the way it did, but in some ways, I think it’s good. At this point in time, it feels like we just took a break. When the three of us are hanging out together, it’s three best friends geeking out about Xysma demos, like it was in the ’90s. We have that kind of bond where we almost speak a different language. It’s the type of friendship that’s completely irreplaceable.

After mending my relationship with John, I realized how much I had missed that.”

And that was it. Three friends, unharried by musical ambition. No Agalloch. Well, almost.

“When bands break up,” says Anderson, “that doesn’t mean that you’re still not doing reissues, that there’s not merch out there or decisions to be made. We were having band meetings, the three of us, even while we were broken up. We were doing all the paperwork, but not the fun part of being in a band.”

“John was still doing so much work for Agalloch,” says Walton. “We’d meet somewhere and John would show us the layouts that he was working on for these reissues that keep coming out. Finally, it was Don who was like, ‘We’re doing all the work, but not having any of the fun.’ Then John was like, ‘We could see if we wanted to play a one-off show or something.’

I remember vividly—Don dropped his drink or whatever and was like, ‘Let’s fucking do it then!’”

“It was like a superhero putting on their old outfit,” Anderson tells us. “We all had to break out our pedal boards and redo them back to the Agalloch pedal boards. I had to get my guitars retuned to Agalloch tuning. We got together, relearned some songs, and it felt great.”

At which point, the question of a drummer became paramount. Aesop Dekker had definitely imprinted himself on the band’s post-Ashes incarnation, but this new era necessitated a new approach. Initially, it seemed important to find a local skinsman who would be able to rehearse and integrate himself regularly with the rest of the band. When that option never really materialized, it was time to look elsewhere geographically, if not socially. Hunter Ginn—founding drummer of progressive act Canvas Solaris, one half of the erudite Radical Research podcast, and core contributor to the experimental Plague Psalm and death project Gorging Shade—had already been drafted to record percussion for the forthcoming fifth Sculptured record, and though it took a little exasperated urging from Walton’s wife to finally ask him, reanimating

DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 69

The bottom line is, when the three of us are together, we’re Agalloch.

SO, WE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE FUN WITH IT. JASON WALTON

Agalloch by yet again cross-pollinating with Sculptured turned into exactly the right move.

“Agalloch is one of my favorite bands,” Ginn tells Decibel just one day before he flies out for the band’s second-ever weekend of rehearsals.

“I couldn’t even tell you how many memories I have that are attached to Agalloch. I’ve driven hours to see them. I used to own one of the wooden boxes [collecting the first three fulllength LPs and Of Stone, Wind, and Pillor]. Without any reservation, I said yes.”

Agalloch have benefited from—and battled with—a varied array of drummers, from Haughm’s tidily honed metal approach on a large kit at the band’s outset, to Chris Greene’s straightahead rock background in the mid-’00s, to Dekker’s punk-powered attitude on a smaller setup during the band’s most difficult creative years. Ginn brings his own very particular set of skills to bear.

“My four-piece kit is very similar to Aesop’s,” Ginn reports. “Most of the acoustic jazz guys played smaller kits. The philosophy behind that is you can orchestrate a part in any number of ways.

You don’t have to have a big kit to do that. You can find ways to manipulate a part so that it’s interesting without having a ton of drums. But Aesop and I are very different drummers. I love the way that Aesop approached those songs; I [also] love John’s drumming on those [early] albums. All I want to do is serve this music and support these guys. I’m a background player. I know exactly how I would want to hear these songs as an Agalloch fan, and the way I’m playing is to make these songs feel as good as I possibly can.”

“He keeps saying that,” Walton says wryly of Ginn’s modest entry into the band. “We asked him to play these songs with us because we want his stamp on it. We don’t want him to replicate Chris or Aesop or John. We want Hunter Fucking Ginn. He’s a massive drummer, and I’m really 70 : SEPTEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

looking forward to playing with him live and seeing his work come to life in Agalloch. It’s going to be stunning. I think Hunter is going to inject life into these old Agalloch songs in the perfect way. He’s so consistent. It’s intimidating playing with him. I think he’s the perfect drummer for Agalloch in 2023.”

“Hunter can definitely swing,” Anderson says of Ginn’s ability to nudge the beat around when the song calls for it, “but his background is more technical, closer to Sean Reinert. But he’s not going to tech-up Agalloch. He can also play double bass forever. More than anything, we go out and hang. He talks the talk and gets all the references, and that’s really important. We can talk in shorthand really easily—this short song on this side of this weird record, and he knows it.”

“He’s got a very similar sense of humor,” Haughm says of the way Ginn’s personality jibes with the rest of Agalloch’s core. “He’s very knowledgeable, kind of an encyclopedia of good music, not just metal. I heard some of his drumming on the Sculptured stuff and thought, ‘Yeah, this guy can do our stuff easily, and probably breathe some fresh air into it as well.’”

THIS GRANDEUR THAT PROTECTS THE SPIRIT WITHIN In early 1914, construction was finished on

Ringler’s Cotillion Hall in Portland, OR, and the building opened as a ballroom and a venue for dance revivals. After allowing such “controversial” events as jazz shows and segregated AfricanAmerican formals, the hall changed ownership and hosted much safer fare that primarily consisted of square dances, during which time it was rechristened the Crystal Ballroom. The ’60s saw an influx of rock and R&B acts, until the space fell out of public use and was given over to “squatters, artists and bohemians,” as

70

some Wikipedia editor helpfully describes them.

The McMenamins family business acquired the location in 1997 and reopened it as a historic music venue. On September 23, 2023, Agalloch play their second hand-picked show of the year, accompanied by a scotch ale called the Loch that McMenamins is brewing especially for the event.

“Agalloch and McMenamins go all the way back to the late ’90s,” Haughm explains. “Most of the lyrics of The Mantle were written in the Little Red Shed at the Edgefield [McMenamins property]. I always wanted to play the Crystal Ballroom as a full-circle kind of thing. It’s a big historic venue.

The fact that we sold it out is awesome!”

And on the first weekend of December, we will gather in Denver at Decibel Magazine Metal & Beer Fest to drink a smokey Oktoberfestbier from WarPigs Brewing—brewmaster Erik Ogershok reports the use of “malt, which is smoked over beechwood, from the region in Germany where these [rauchbiers] are traditional and still popular”—and a smoked huckleberry mead from Brimming Horn, as we celebrate Agalloch’s third and final 2023 appearance. But what will Agalloch be, beyond this year’s deepening winter?

“Everything is forgiven,” Anderson says of the work Agalloch have done just to get this far.

“Everything has been confronted. It’s a reflection of the ability for us—for anybody—to put aside feelings of bitterness and resentment, to foreground forgiveness and acceptance. It’s the triumph of friendship more than anything else.”

Likewise, Walton focuses on the joy at the center of the experience. “I’m in Agalloch, obviously, but I’m also a massive fan of Agalloch. I really love these songs and I’m excited for them to exist again in a live setting. But the bottom line is, when the three of us are together, we’re Agalloch.

So, we might as well have fun with it.”

DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 71

Started in 2019, Nailwound is a band from Orlando, Florida. They mix metalcore and deathcore with lyrics that tackle social and personal issues with an aggressive and inyour-face approach. Their newest album "An Ode to Misery" shows a maturing of this hybrid sound, building further on the visceral mix of riffs, breakdowns, and slams established by their previous EPs "Dog Eat Dog" and "Doomsday". Lyrically, the songs of "An Ode to Misery" invite the listener to explore an amalgam of perspectives on the emotion of "misery" and how it is experienced, perceived, created, and fostered.

圀圀圀⸀䬀一䤀䘀䔀䠀䤀吀匀刀䔀䌀伀刀䐀匀⸀䌀伀䴀

72 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

圀圀圀⸀䐀䔀一伀䘀圀䄀堀⸀䌀伀䴀

NAILWOUND AN ODE TO MISERY 10.13.23

INSIDE ≥

75 CULTUS SANGUINE RIYL having no friends in 1995 75 DISGUISED NALIGNANCE Peekaboooooooo 76 FUMING MOUTH

Cheating death breath 76 GLACIER EATER

Ultimate brain freeze

ALL THE NOISE THAT FITS

78 WAR CURSE

More like snore curse

Breath and a Scream SUFFOCATION

Death metal legends survive a siege of (online) inveracity, welcome new frontman to their church

DECEMBER

0

Moments met

0

Fucking means somethings

0

Badass musical warriors

1

15 minutes of internet infamy before a swift return to irrelevance

F 8

rank mullen isn’t in suffocation. He’s not on Hymns From the Apocrypha. There, I said it. Although death metal’s heroes mercilessly carved Mullen’s departure on the genre’s perpetually reanimating corpse via an offiSUFFOCATION cial release (Live in North America), basement plebs the world Hymns From over will decry Hymns simply on the grounds (i.e., “shockthe Apocrypha ing news”) that Mullen has left the building, likely never to NUCLEAR BLAST grunt and hand-chop again with the band he called home for three decades. ¶ Well, blood brothers and sanguine sisters, newcomer Ricky Myers (also of Disgorge fame) fills Mullen’s shoes more than admirably. Actually, Myers has been fronting Suffo since 2019, but don’t let that fact get in the way of shitposting to accumulate Reddit flair. OK, the elephant in the room is now cruelly, unequivocally slain. ¶ If there’s one continuous trait that the longstanding New Yorkers have extolled since 1988, it’s brutality. Unapologetically, in fact. Decibel has a history of celebrating Suffo’s innovation (Hall of Famer Effigy of the Forgotten), resurrection (Souls to Deny) and their continued dominance (Mullen and Terrance Hobbs appeared on

ILLUSTRATION BY MARK RUDOLPH [MARKRUDOLPH.COM]

DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 73

the cover of our August 2017 issue). By sheer determination—and Hobbs’ unwavering ability to rewrite (and, in some cases, rerecord) the rules of his wickedly sick riffs/songs—Hymns From the Apocrypha continues the tradition of adulation. Yeah, I like death metal—more when it’s parlayed with this level of expertise and intensity.

Caveat lector. Hobbs has said Hymns has “a little more progressive riffage.” That doesn’t mean he’s gone egg-shaped on Suffo’s ninth fulllength. There are no jazz interludes, five-part epics or bell-bottomed grooves here. Midway stunners “Seraphim Enslavement,” “Descendants” and “Embrace the Suffering” offer all the things we’ve come to revere in Suffo—speed, intensity, crushing slowness—but the inclusion of dissonant harmony, multiplex craziness and super-wild solos is fucking cool. They pair well with the obligatory re-cast of Breeding the Spawn closer “Ignorant Deprivation,” which also caps Hymns like a hammer to the head.

Elsewhere, it’s hard to find fault in Suffo as they celebrate their 35th birthday. “Perpetual Deception” and “Dim Veil of Obscurity” are genuine pit-destroyers. Hobbs and guitarist Charlie Errigo are (still) relentlessly pursuing the edges of extremity. They’re bolstered by bassist Derek Boyer and drummer Eric Morotti’s second-tonone rhythmic fortitude and jaw-dropping proficiency—check out Boyer’s showpiece in “Descendants” and the epochal transition from “Dim Veil of Obscurity” to the wimp-stomping churn of “Immortal Execration.”

Truly, what makes Hymns stand out is Christian Donaldson’s genre-defining production (Suffo also helmed). Everything’s properly delineated, yet vibrantly savage. The sonic trajectory reminds me of Flemming Rasmussen and Tom Morris’ handling of Morbid Angel’s Covenant or Scott Burns’ acceleration of Death’s prodigious ascent on Individual Thought Patterns. Just Suffo don’t sound like they’re trying to revisit 1993. This is very much a production of the modern era.

Hymns From the Apocrypha isn’t a valediction, but a vindication. The monster of Long Island is very much alive and well. —CHRIS DICK

ANGELUS APATRIDA

8

Aftermath

CENTURY MEDIA

This is the news

With the world going to hell in a handbasket thanks to the dangerous rise of populism, authoritarianism and theocracy, the most politically savvy subgenre of metal has to step it up, if only to offer a clear alternative to so much regressive, right-wing sentiment in the scene. Spanish heshers Angelus Apatrida have been churning out music for the last two 74 : D E C E M B E R 2 0 2 3 : D E C I B E L

decades, but it wasn’t until 2021’s self-titled album that bigger audiences started to perk up their ears. Led by vocalist/guitarist Guillermo Izquierdo, the band excels at tourniquet-tight rhythm riffery that finds a tidy balance between the melodic thrash of Testament, the taut ferocity of ’80s Kreator, and the raw anger of Beneath the Remains-era Sepultura. And that combination, combined with some brilliant lyrics, makes for one of the most exciting thrash releases of 2023.

Angelus Apatrida explode out of the gates with the Cavalera-esque rager “Scavenger,” wasting no time commanding the listener’s attention with its whiplash-inducing rhythm riffs. The record is brilliantly paced between blunt force (“Snob” is one of the best thrash diss tracks since Megadeth’s “Liar”) and more melodic diversions (the excellent “Vultures and Butterflies”), but it’s when Izquierdo contemplates the state of the world that Aftermath takes off. Especially on the brilliant “What Kills Us All,” which takes on police corruption with welcome anger and bluntness. As guest vocalist/rapper Sho-Hai says so well on the song, “Mi mente siempre activa, efectiva, hoy agresiva pero siempre antifa.” (“My mind always active, effective, today aggressive, but always antifa.”)

That’s what thrash is all about.

—ADRIEN BEGRAND

AUTOPSY

8

Ashes, Organs, Blood and Crypts PEACEVILLE

Can’t kill what’s already dead

First-mover advantage counts for little after over 30 years of death metal evolution, and the bind that O.G. pioneers like Autopsy find themselves in is how to creep us all out once more. Autopsy were among the first to severe the artery and let peers and successive generations of death heads sup from it. They threw the chum in the water.

What now? Well, now here we are with their 10th studio album, and what made Autopsy great in 1989 when Severed Survival hit record stores is what makes them great now—we will always be here for the splatter gore and the caveman metal.

It might not shock us when “Rabid Funeral”—a possible sequel to “Mental Funeral”—scratches its way out the casket for a head-down punk freakout turned doom epic, but there’s awe. No one quite does this like Chris Reifert, Eric Cutler and Danny Coralles.

Many have tried. The addition of bassist Greg Wilkinson in 2021 was a welcome transfusion.

Wilkinson’s mixing skills gives this the raw clarity it deserves. He also assisted Scott Evans when recording at Oakland’s Sharkbite Studios.

Reifert is a big Stones fan. It’ll tickle him that this is coming out the same week as

Hackney Diamonds. There are parallels between the two: veteran apex predators in their field with sounds constructed upon rock ‘n’ roll instinct. Reifert and co., let those instincts run wild here on the concise animalism of “Throatsaw,” the gnarly doom of “Bones to the Wolves” and morbid hardcore of “Toxic Death Fuk,” all songs that spill out of the speaker a little uncooked in the middle, just the way you like ’em. —JONATHAN HORSLEY

CRUCIAMENTUM

9

Obsidian Refractions P R O FO U N D LO R E

Crucia blasts

Cruciamentum’s 2015 debut, Charnel Passages, was unquestionably brutal, yet much more than just maniacally focused on sonic destruction; it was also extremely dynamic, shifting between tempos, moods and odd time signatures more often than the demos and EP before it. Although plenty of weight had been placed upon slower, atmospheric sojourns—similar to their British doom/death forefathers in Paradise Lost and Anathema—Cruciamentum still unleashed torrent after torrent of hellfire à la Morbid Angel, Bolt Thrower and Immolation. The swarming blackened riffs, jackhammer blasts ‘n’ grooves, cacophonous guitar solos and guttural barks were all-consuming on tracks such as “Dissolution of Mortal Perception” and “Collapse,” especially combined with death-doom sections laden with sinister textures courtesy of keyboards.

With such a clear understanding of effective extreme metal songcraft, Cruciamentum had the one essentiality that many of their murky peers lacked: the ability to write memorable songs without weakening their core style, built upon strong, discernible arrangements and skilled pacing. So, while Cruciamentum were beholden to diabolical old-school values, there was a nightmarish vision of death metal’s future cast across their impressive first full-length.

This vision is now fully realized on Obsidian Refractions. “Charnel Passages,” “Abhorrence Evangelium” and “Scorn Manifestation” slither, blast and rip through raveled mazes of Azagthothian madness. “Necropolis of Obsidian Mirrors” refracts primal syncopations through a contemporary DM prism, while “Interminable Rebirth of Abomination” unveils riffs and solos as aphotic and regal as the song’s name would suggest. Closing with the 10-minute-plus “Drowned”—as extravagantly evil-sounding a composition as doom-flecked death metal can get—you’re left with the clear impression that Cruciamentum might actually be the best British death metal band (not from the subgenre’s classic period) in the game today. —DEAN BROWN

CULTUS SANGUINE 8 Dust Once Alive

BADMOODMAN MUSIC

Re-enthrone darkness exultant

Italian vamps Cultus Sanguine had select members of Decibel (you can probably guess who) in fits of underground awe when they emerged from their Milan-based catacomb with their eponymous EP in 1995. Fast forward a trillion years later and chief rebel angel Joe Ferghieph has blood gushing out of his wounded love yet again. Cultus Sanguine had a minor run in the late ’90s with Shadows’ Blood (1997) and The Sum of All Fears (1999). They’ve been relatively silent since. I guess life (or death, figuratively) gets even the most dastardly of devils nailed to the proverbial cross.

Dust Once Alive, if honesty is prime, could’ve been clown car levels of monotony but alas, it’s well-executed, competently-produced gothic black doom, the likes of which reside under the dead skin masks of top hat-era Dimmu Borgir, pre-Vinny Cavanagh fronting Anathema and Shining’s early DSBM insanity. Those ain’t necessarily bad things now that Stormkeep and Moonlight Sorcery have made two-bit black metal a thing of the not-so-distant past.

“Facing Vulture Season” bites two fangs first.

The active guitar and (slightly) restrained keyboard counterharmony give off familiar vibes before they hit Ferghieph’s agonized vocals. The grand processional of “Sister Solitude Saves” is churchlike in its funereal nature. Only this temple is inverted. “The Greatest of Nothing” is a clever mix of the two, though its starry prog interludes elicit more a group of songwriters slinging protean atmospheres than would historically be permitted. Add the mid-tempo gallop of “Delusion Grandeur” to the fray and Cultus Sanguine’s Dust Once Alive transitions into feel-good hit of the summer. No kidding. —CHRIS DICK

DISGUISED MALIGNANCE

8

Entering the Gateways PROSTHETIC

Annihilation ahead

The influx of new quality death metal bands shows no signs of abating, with the Finnish feeding frenzy of Disguised Malignance being the latest arrival. In striking fashion, the lineage of Demigod, Funebre, Abhorrence and Convulse ripples through the tremolo-driven riffs and brutish-yet-technical rhythms of “Gates to Nihill” and “Confined”—all replete with that signature atmospheric otherness that exists in intangible form across all Finnish DM releases.

“Unearthly Extinction,” meanwhile, cuts across Scandinavia and lands in Stockholm, as Clandestine-esque barbaric grooves meet melodic

tech-death soloing for an interesting juxtaposition of styles. Vocalist Felix Pennanen is a brute force rhythmic weapon in the band’s arsenal; his punchy phrasing recalls David Vincent circa Covenant, though his tone is more subterranean, which ultimately suits the Lovecraftian aura that Disguised Malignance summon. “The Fading Path of Existence” and “Remnants of Serenity” have the kind of catchy riffcraft Dismember excelled at in their early days, as guitarists Daniel Gamache and Tuure Suomalainen hurl out twisted, bludgeoning missives that connect hard from first listen and don’t sacrifice power for dazzling musicianship. The seven-plus minute “Disengagement Into Eternity” is the highlight the album, however; there’s some prime Demilich found in the knotted guitar and bass interplay when the band rages at full pelt, while the shadow of diSEMBOWELMENT looms large over the slower, more spacious passages.

It took some time for the likes of Blood Incantation or Tomb Mold to get to the compositional level that Disguised Malignance have achieved over two demos in two years, which has led to this, a fully realized debut from a very exciting new band. —DEAN BROWN

EXULANSIS

7

Overtures of Uprising BINDRUNE RECORDINGS

EXULANSIS

8

Hymns of Collapse BINDRUNE RECORDINGS

The duality of nature

In Wolves in the Throne Room and Panopticon’s wake, U.S. black metal has done a couple things. One: It has embraced folk music wholeheartedly. Two: It likes to compartmentalize. Exulansis, who have not one but two albums set to release, exemplify these two halves. Let’s explore this.

Folk music. Though the well from which most artists draw is inherently European (save for Panopticon’s bluegrass-isms), modern USBM (read: post-2007) loves to include what are considered folkisms into its music. It could be as simple as an acoustic guitar or a violin melody, but what’s important is the vibe. Overtures of Uprising, while undoubtedly a black metal album (mostly—there’s some neocrust in there, too), subsists on vibe in totality, and the ever-present violin that dances atop blast and D-beats alike creates a folky atmosphere which, for all intents and purposes, succeeds in setting Exulansis in the ever-treasured “folk/ black metal” trope that defines much European black metal.

Hymns of Collapse also fits into this trope, but not as a metal album. No, this is a fully

unplugged folk/singer/songwriter record with songs of societal collapse, society uprising and many other solid -isms that made folk music a tool for The People in the face of classism and oppression. A strummy affair that recollects some of the naughtier neofolk greats, this album really showcases Exulansis’ ear for melody when laid bare (without walls of distortion), which reveals this to be the stronger of the two albums. There’s something about a lot of this newer atmospheric USBM that is essentially the same folky chord progressions (just tremolopicked) as what is presented here, and it just sounds nicer when it’s unplugged, honestly!

Now, compartmentalizing. Here’s where the two albums start to become one in a few ways.

Black metal, for all the influences it could bring to the table, is still unapologetically itself in a way that the oil of outside influence separates from the water that is black metal. Though Exulansis do a pretty good job of keeping folk instruments active in their black metal sections, they feel like an additive or a flourish as opposed to a part of the central songwriting that makes it black metal. This does not make Overtures of Uprising bad, rather it shows that black metal still has a way to go before things start to meld.

Hymns of Collapse is by far the most indicative of black metal’s compartmentalizing obsession.

I mean, a folky black metal band releasing an “extracurricular” album is no new concept.

Ulver did it. Wolves in the Throne Room did it.

It’s not a stretch of the imagination. However, where Exulansis truly shine is how strong this album’s songwriting is. This isn’t some cast-off look at how varied we are departure; you can really tell their hearts are in this music.

Did Exulansis reinvent the wheel? No, but it’s still pretty ambitious to release two entirely different albums at once, and that in itself is commendable. Go listen to both. —JON ROSENTHAL

FLESHER

8

Tales of Grotesque Demise REDEFINING DARKNESS

Paeans to fallen neanderthals

God, do I adore caveman death metal. I am not alone. Flesher’s new album was created for people like us—the discerning group who likes music that lands like a dominatrix’s kick to the nads, and yet is precise, sleek and masterfully played. Sean Frasier, I am looking at you, bub!

First, just a touch on Flesher. The trio was formed in 2022 in Indiana by Paul Breece, Gus Matracia and Dustin Boltjes (Skeletonwitch, Demiricous). Their main inspirations are ’90s death metal and horror films. (If you say “’90s death metal,” horror films are a given, but we’ll let that go.) The results are ridiculous for a DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 75

band that just got together a little over a year ago. Tales of Grotesque Demise will remind listeners of classic ’90s American death metal filth: Deicide’s Legion, Obituary’s Slowly We Rot and even Cannibal Corpse’s hook-laden Hall of Fame masterpiece The Bleeding.

With so many death metal bands reaching for the jam stratosphere, Flesher have instead chosen to go all in on groove. While bands like Six Feet Under claim to groove, Flesher do groove. “The Gates” has a simple yet driving hook, and “Wisconsin” has peak Glen Benton vibes. The only other band nailing this sound as well is Necrot, and they’ve been on the cover.

The Ed Repka cover art enhances the retro vibe.

To get more granular about why this album rules goes against the reason it exists. Tales of Grotesque Demise is meant to be played on a CD Walkman at full blast before surviving another day at school or work. It’s death metal for people who love death metal, a vicious hook to the temple in an age of banal technicality. —JUSTIN M. NORTON

FUMING MOUTH

8

Last Day of Sun NUCLEAR BLAST

Should we talk about the weather?

Bands hate being pigeonholed, but Fuming Mouth likely hate it more than most. On their second full-length the band is a death ‘n’ roll crust-punk sludge machine with shredding solos and crestfallen melodies.

So, yeah, Last Day of Sun is pretty fucking great.

But you probably want more details, so here’s the deal.

All of the aforementioned styles by these Massholes are pulled off with enough dexterity and conviction that if you only heard certain sections, you’d assume that’s all they played. As to what they’re best at, that’s probably more dependent on which kind of music you like the most.

A certain reviewer was partial to the sludge, and when opener “Out of Time” gets doomy right at the end, it’s both the perfect ending and an indication of what’s to follow.

The band’s attempt to cram all of this variation does lead to a few missteps. “Leaving Euphoria” is a sad bastard funeral dirge that has the potential to expand into something monumental, but sort of sputters out, while “Disgusterlude”—one of the best riffs on the record—is played off as, well, a disgusting interlude that breaks apart before you can even enjoy it. And “The Silence Beyond Life” is packaged for your local heavy metal radio station, the album’s most accessible song with a soaring chorus that sacrifices grit for not enough payoff.

What’s left, though, is golden. Fuming Mouth want to accomplish a lot, and on Last Day of Sun they absolutely pull it off. —SHANE MEHLING 76 : DECEMBER 202 3 : DECIBEL

GLACIER EATER

8

Tempest

GLACIER RECORDINGS

The beginning of the end of a new (ice) age

I was pondering which extreme music subgenres would be most difficult to make sound fresh while remaining faithful to recognized boundaries. Then, it hit me: all of them, dumbass! Trying to emerge from a vacuum and sound completely novel is impossible. Everything thrives on familiarity, though some factions are more guilty than others.

Melodic death metal has been a longtime podium-worthy culprit in the departments of staidness and forward-thinking resistance. Tempest, the second full-length from Oakland’s Glacier Eater, may not have entirely shattered the tedium, but it’s done a beast of a job injecting life into a sound that has taken a self-imposed cliff dive in recent years.

The secret sauces include the tandem vocals of Ryan Hansen and Keith Welch (both also on guitar) and the melodic depth executed throughout the album’s eight-song, half-hour silky head kick. Their voices are definitely rougher, raspier and more “streetwise Oakland” than you’d expect from a band whose 4x100 relay team includes early In Flames and Arch Enemy handing the baton to Arsis and Epoch of Unlight. But it’s not simply urbanized strep throat screaming that makes “Exodus” and the title track glorious callousedhands anthems; it’s how the contagious phrasing and vocal lines boil underneath the gristle.

A layer of slime and grime gives Tempest an overall ballsy punch, even as melodies flirt with the lush and effusive on “Massacre” and the harder edge of melodic punk (think early Strung Out and Bad Religion) on “Disharmony.” The acoustic ballad “Grief” and the electric ballad “Adrift” tightrope between providing dynamic breathers and killing momentum, but masterful offerings of riffs, harmonized guitars, and heroic leads in “Landing” and “Homeward” toy with the harder, bleaker side of the melodic-death equation, and absolutely raise the bar for the sound as a whole. —KEVIN STEWART-PANKO

KARRAS

7

We Poison Their Young M-THEORY AUDIO

The power of grind compels them

Because I’m obsessed with old-school TV shows the same way others are illicit intoxicants— though, it’s still up for debate what causes more brain rot: an eight ball with a bathtub gin chaser or old episodes of Knight Rider—my first thought about Karras was this: In the grindcore tradition of bands naming themselves after rugged actors

and fictional celluloid personalities (Yaphet Kotto, Charles Bronson, Jenny Piccolo, et al.), this lot was christened in honor of Alex Karras, the dad from Webster. After learning they’re French, failed to do the obvious and call themselves Jerry Lewis, and are unlikely to be fans of shitty ’80s American sitcoms, it was revealed they’re named in honor of The Exorcist’s Father Damian Karras and have personal liberty, freedom of thought, religious hypocrisy and societal regression as overriding themes to their existence. Which makes slightly more sense.

Karras take a huge slice outta the Scandinavian grind world with additional flavoring coming from the Swe-death gallop and HM-2 buzz. Sure, they sound like something anyone reading this has stumbled across at one (million) point(s) or another, but the glint coming off the razor-sharp guitar, incisive drum sounds and Diego Jansen’s vocals try their darnedest to lump them closer to Rotten Sound, Nasum and Victims instead of minor league also-rans like Blockheads, Afgrund and Mumakil. At times it’s crushing (“Prelude to the Depths,” “A Chaplain’s Breath,” “Ritual Overdose”); other times it’s more forceful nudge. But at least they’re not full-on performing fellatio in Hades, or whatever angry pre-teen girls say to describe things they don’t enjoy. —KEVIN STEWART-PANKO

MORNE

5

Engraved With Pain M E TA L B L A D E

Hurts not so good

A multiverse of greater and lesser acts don’t live up to their monikers like Morne. Grieving post-sludge since 2005, the Boston depressives might be over it, too, since their fifth full-length can’t match that same sync. In fact, since 2011 sophomore spike Asylum, the law of diminishing returns continues sanding this mountain of sound and grief into a middling discomfort instead of abject anguish. Take two aspirin for Engraved With Pain.

Exhorted also by vocalist/guitarist Milosz Gassan, guitarist Paul Rajpal, bassist Morgan Coe and drummer Billy Knockenhauer, 2018 predecessor To the Night Unknown unfurled long after dark-like: protracted stretches of white din. The bandleader hoarsely bellows and writhes postrock emotionalism over monolithic riffs, tempos and songs shot through a tribal thrust. Strap to the mammoths, ’cause Hannibal’s crossing the alps. Shadows beforehand, same: arid plod and the least of the lot.

By contrast, Asylum, despite hollering for a vocal makeover, moves masses as Morne’s most dynamic. 2009 bow Untold Weight matches its metallic post-rock with a tempo-bending wall of sediment. Sadly, Engraved With Pain skews more Shadows than Untold Weight or Asylum. At

four tracks in 41 minutes, song length isn’t the problem. It’s what they don’t do with it.

Digital percussion tapping like a Sabbathian rain on the opening title track too soon devolves into The Crow soundtrack: tribal rumbles, tectonic riffs and an industrial wash. That millennial tension overlays all, but hardly tensile enough (“Memories Like Stone”). It thus creates a white noise effect sanding the bulk of Pain into a generic buzzing (“Wretched Empire”). Longest and strongest, closer “Fire and Dust” shudders classically rock and begs Morne to find acceptance. —RAOUL HERNANDEZ

MORTUARY DRAPE 8 Black Mirror PEACEVILLE

Italian masters rise once from their slumber

The Italian masters are back. Yes, they put out an EP last year. Fine, but Black Mirror closes a nine-year opening in Mortuary Drape’s full-length catalog. These guys have taken a while between albums before, but in their near-40-year career, nothing’s felt quite like this emptiness. I like to think of this album as frontman Wildness Perversion looking across the great plain of black metal and rubbing his chin in thought, knowing he would have to show a new generation of youngsters just how it’s done.

To clarify: This isn’t the same band who made All the Witches Dance 30 years ago. Get over it. At its core, Black Mirror is a Mortuary Drape album through and through. The bass rips, the riffs are strong and there is a generally spooky atmosphere that defines the record as a whole. Considering the majority of the band’s lineup joined in 2010 (the last as recently as 2019), it’s amazing how what makes Mortuary Drape what they are remains so steadfast.

There are a few other things that make it apparent that this is a newer Drape album. For one, it is sharp. Classic Mortuary Drape operated on a level of slop, which is acceptable (and embraced), but this new material is super distinctive and very proficient, especially in the solo department. Holy hell, can these guys rip.

And new drummer M.T.? A machine!

This isn’t classic Mortuary Drape, but there is something compelling about Black Mirror that has me coming back for more and more. It’s just that good. —JON ROSENTHAL

NYTT LAND

6

Torem

N A PA L M

Siberian shamans

Folk and metal have been perfect bedfellows at least since Skyclad and Cruachan (and, hey, Bathory)

were forged, but it only became clear more recently that taking the metal out of it entirely and going back to your geographical, mythological and spiritual roots, the same audience—and a whole new one—will keep paying attention.

Wardruna are obviously the main culprits, their success inspiring lots of similar-minded acts, mostly within their neighboring Nordic regions where the folklore and imagery is still the easiest to identify with for our scenes. Nytt Land are indeed Nordic, and even if not the “coolest” kind—they are Russian, from Kalachinsk in Siberia—there are enough similarities with your typical Vikings for this universe to feel welcomingly familiar.

Musically, expect the usual hallucinatory journey to the old customs of their ancestors—they even call themselves a “shamanic couple”—feverish and psychedelic, close to Heilung in feel and style. Torem (“Great Sky”) speaks of riveting stuff, but they’re also big concepts that are hard to convey no matter how many old instruments you use. Anatoly Pakhalenko’s throat singing, perhaps their more distinctive feature, becomes a little overbearing as the main vehicle of vocal expression, and Natasha “Baba Yaga”’s choruses, though awesome to set a particular mood, don’t offer much in terms of melodic richness. When they nail it, like on “Nord,” they make you feel like you’re in the middle of some ritual in the wilderness.

But as the album drags on, Nytt Land are unable to maintain that level of articulation.

Not as rewarding a journey as some of the bigger names in the “genre,” but still a nice walk in the woods. —JOSÉ CARLOS SANTOS

PANOPTICON

8

The Rime of Memory BINDRUNE RECORDINGS

Don’t let the fire burn out

Fifteen winters have passed since Austin Lunn first introduced his solo project to the world. During that time, Panopticon has reluctantly achieved acclaim at the forefront of American black metal. Lunn doesn’t exactly chase cameras in corpsepaint, like some other super-visible musicians in the genre. Similar to his life’s work at HammerHeart Brewing, Lunn privately creates so others can taste and hear the fruits of his toiling.

The Rime of Memory is a 75-minute concept album; basically one minute for every year of the American life expectancy. Like past albums, the project champions wilderness advocacy. But the most resonant themes result from Lunn reflecting on his own midlife milestone (a.k.a. his 40th birthday). The result is chilling at its most cynical—first single “Cedar Skeletons”—but ultimately embodies a vibrant discourse of mortality, memory and the lost art of being present.

With the intro and front half of “Winter’s Ghost” combined, the album endures 10 minutes without blackened components. That drought of blasts and screams isn’t startling if you’ve already visited Panopticon’s music. Black metal is still the primary vehicle for Lunn’s expression. But Panopticon is a reflection of Lunn’s personal journey more than it’s beholden to genre. And it has never felt more personal than The Rime of Memory.

“Enduring the Snow Drough” is triumphant and soulful, soaring across the white cover’s tundra with sky-flung leads. The song’s funereal denouement feels like freezing temperatures settling as the sun sets. In the closing epic “The Blue Against the White” alone, a small village of collaborators and loved ones contribute their talents. There’s certainly outsider appeal to the image of the isolated genius. But The Rime of Memory succeeds because it is a bittersweet testament to how our interpersonal bonds strengthen us, despite their impermanence. —SEAN FRASIER

THRONEHAMMER

7

Kingslayer

SUPREME CHAOS

Kings(layers) of metal

Epic doom is a profoundly traditional genre. For starters, you need a great vocalist. That tragic/ powerful wail from the top of a mountain will need to hit you just right. There’s also not much musical or lyrical wiggle room—get too weird and it’s just not epic doom anymore. Fortunately, Thronehammer tread all the fine epic doom lines with seemingly effortless grace, establishing themselves on their third full-length as natural contemporary pack-leaders.

It helps that they’re not exactly newcomers— Kat Shevil Gillham is a familiar name in the U.K. underground, a talented multi-instrumentalist and vocalist active in countless other extreme and heavy metal bands. Elsewhere, riffmaster Stuart West has a rich past in psychedelic doomsters Obelyskkh and sludge lords Versus the Stillborn-Minded. They know how to structure a song, maintaining a mostly mid-pace, but always dynamic stomp fueled by huge riffs.

Crucially, they know their Manilla Roads, their Cirith Ungols and their Doomswords, but they never really sound like them or anyone else, using their extreme metal expertise to inject some much-needed muscle and variation in the songs. Gillham is a vocal show unto herself, wailing, crooning and occasionally growling, giving words their proper weight to reach the higher echelons of the epic scale.

A 73-minute album is way beyond what’s in the rule book in these short attention span times, but through the massive—and massively catchy, too—drive of the title track, the melodic DECIBEL : DECEMBER 2023 : 77

richness of “Shieldbreaker” or the mountain of feelings and metal that is closer “Ascension,” you won’t notice the sound of the rule book being torn to pieces. —JOSÉ CARLOS SANTOS

TRIUMPH OF DEATH

8

Resurrection of the Flesh NOISE/BMG

Hella good

I’ll admit that when I first heard Apocalyptic Raids in 1984, I agreed with pretty much every review of it I read at the time: Hellhammer sucked. To my 17-year-old ears, it was too rudimentary and amateurish. Considering the fact that some of my favorite bands from this era were Metallica, Iron Maiden and Queensrÿche, it’s not surprising that Hellhammer didn’t exactly, uh, resonate. Ah, but Celtic Frost a year later, I was fully sold on. Some of that was my changing taste in music, but I think we can all agree that Celtic Frost succeeded in certain ways its predecessor did not.

A live album of Hellhammer material performed by the main creative force behind the band, Tom G. Warrior (and friends), seems inconceivable in 2023, for any number of different reasons. Obviously, history has shown us that Hellhammer were incredibly important to the evolution of extreme metal. As sort of shoddy as their recordings (and performances on them) were, the spirit of what they were doing was pure and legitimate, and had a profound effect on generations that followed.

So, here we are more than 40 years after the band formed, and Warrior is trotting out a full Hellhammer repertoire (as Triumph of Death) to hugely appreciative audiences at festivals in the U.S. and Europe. And thank god this exists, because we can hear how great these songs could have been had the band chosen to ignore the harsh criticism at the time and stay the course (and generally gotten better). It can be argued that they in essence did that under a different moniker, but I’d counter that Hellhammer possessed something gnarly, ugly and primal that Frost ultimately abandoned. And this live collection of 12 of Hellhammer’s nastiest cuts 100 percent doesn’t suck. —ADEM TEPEDELEN

VARIOUS ARTISTS 8 Faster Than the Devil 2 W I S E B LO O D

Yeah? You try running in all that Prada

Faster Than the Devil 2 is a comp that would’ve made me feel like the dopest middle school pariah ever if it’d only come out in the late 78 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

’80s. The included bands, the equal parts coolto-cartoonish aesthetics, the brevity (oh, thank you, Jesus) and the bluntly sadistic riffs all feel pilfered from a time just before Bathory got terminally swept up in that whole Viking longship gridlock.

Situated in the record’s pole position is Pittsburgh’s Vicious Blade, who could easily hang on a bill with [pick your preferred thrash big shot].

They’re ready. Vocalist Clarisa Badini (Castrator) is a bloody minded beast-mistress, every riff counts and the compositions smoke. Sure, they occasionally work like they’re way behind on rent, but it gives ’em a bit of a flattering, Johnny Lunchbucket edge.

Indianapolis’ Blasted Heath have a quirky sound that I’d describe as Sadus covering Oranssi Pazuzu. They’re easily the most ambitious band on the comp, and their full-length (Vela) is also oh-so worthy. Highly recommended.

One-man panzer division the Gauntlet initially comes off like a more elementary, Onielar-era Bethlehem, but is probably better characterized as a domestic beer-boozin’ Bathory that prefers its unholy invocations phrased in toe-tapping 4/4. Compared to Blasted Heath, the Gauntlet sounds deeply orthodox but, hey, the tunes all rock and the passion’s undeniable.

Last up is Philadelphia’s Bastard Cröss, (bitching umlaut, dudes!). BC incorporate a fair amount of early King Diamond into their crusty BM tantrums, and it suits them well; though I’d argue that these guys sound just a smidge too far out over their skis. I can see them gelling into something special given just a little more cook time, but as it stands, they’re the limpest link in this here relay race against the prince of darkness. Recommended album, nonetheless.

—FORREST PITTS

VASTUM

9

Inward to Gethsemane 20 BUCK SPIN

Sexecutioners’ return

That we have waited four long years for the follow-up to the Oakland sickos’ Orificial Purge only heightens the pleasure when Daniel Butler hits us with a death growl joy buzzer to properly inaugurate “In Bed With Death” and declare this NSFW monstrosity officially open. Vastum are just so mean, so dark, so human. Animated by our most base impulse— carnal and otherwise—then driven to explore the philosophical implications thereof, they’re wired a little different, plugged into an oldschool sensibility, but with an ugly sound that never existed in any timeline. They’ve scarcely sounded uglier. The vibe is a heady cocktail of dead meat and formaldehyde, long-form true

crime podcasts and Finnish death metal, haunting death-doom and obscure psychology. A face at the window as you turn out the lights.

Leila Abdul-Rauf and Shelby Lermo’s downtuned riffs are physically awesome, and yet work to simultaneously milk us of adrenaline and pique our sense of the uncanny. Some arrangements evolve as though composed by dream logic, and as such are all the more effective. An atonal guitar solo squawk in the time-honored but undiminished Hanneman/King style will periodically illuminate the mix like forked lightning. Such elements have long existed in metal, but it is how they are presented, the tone and the feel that makes them effective still. There’s atmosphere and, you know, songwriting goes a long way. That’s how the audience might still want to move themselves to the challenging, spasmodic rhythms of “Priapic Chasms,” or how a song such as “Corpus Fractum” can hold us for eight minutes, conjuring deep horror at a tempo modulating between the frenzied and the positively somnambulant. —JONATHAN HORSLEY

WAR CURSE

5

Confession

M E TA L B L A D E

The not exactly new order

I’ve written damn near 300 reviews for this esteemed publication, but I’ll be damned if I can think of anything I’ve covered that was more aggressively average than War Curse’s third album, Confession.

From the dry production to the anti-war lyrics to the “gray mud on concrete” aesthetic of the cover art, this Cincinnati-based band has created something that would feel more at home on Metal Blade in 1993 than 2023. It’s the kind of solidly unremarkable thrash you’d find alongside Heathen or Xentrix in the cutout bin at a Sam Goody.

Which isn’t to say it’s painful to listen to— we’ve all heard Ride the Lightning, Rust in Peace and The Legacy so many times that sometimes you need to look elsewhere for your Megaforce fix.

Even though Blaine Gordon sounds kinda like Dave Draiman, he delivers the generic words with conviction. The all-important riffs are decent, especially on the title track and “Power of the Powerless.” The musical performances are tight all around, despite some monotony in the drumbeat department. War Curse just lack the spark that would make the style their own.

That’s admittedly a hard thing to quantify!

Still, the 5 rating up above says it all: There’s nothing really bad about this record, but also nothing remarkable. Even compared to its predecessor, Eradication, it feels lifeless. Recent work from bands like SpiritWorld and Enforced has injected new energy into the genre. This just feels like a rehash. —JEFF TREPPEL

by

EUGENE S. ROBINSON

AGALLOCH,

WE HARDLY KNEW YE It’S

funny how you get

to things that you should have gotten to before it ever dawned on you to get to them. The question I most often and most readily ask people who brace me after Oxbow gigs is, “How’d you find your way to us?”

The answer, while often standard—someone read something or heard something—sometimes gives up the secrets I’m seeking. Without me even knowing that was what I was seeking.

Like that time I was in Israel. Of all places, on a madcap vision quest.

You can really feel the bite here.

And by the bite I mean specifically the thing that happens when people travel to places where the weight of world history crushes the sanity out of them. I knew a guy who went to Jerusalem—the place, not the record—had a nervous breakdown and became convinced that he was, in fact, the messiah.

To get back on a plane and to the safe and secure comforts of

80 : DECEMBER 2023 : DECIBEL

an American mental institution, he had to be told that Florida was waiting to hear from the New Messiah, and in this way, he was lured onto the plane, where he was heavily sedated until it landed in Miami.

This was not that, but the weight of world history I could feel.

“Agalloch.”

Not a burning bush from whence the voice of God came. But a woman I knew.

“What?”

“Aesop’s band.”

“I think they recorded something at House of Faith with Bart, but…” I say, on the basis of some hazy recall.

“He’s pretty famous now,” she says, cutting me off. “That’s what I see online.”

And in a strange turn of events, I don’t think of Aesop Dekker again until he calls. He wants to interview me for some publication. We agree to meet at some horrible San Francisco breakfast eatery. Not as bad as Clown Alley, but pretty close.

“You know,” he says mid-interview when I ask him if he had ever even seen Oxbow. “I have. But halfway through the show, the spider sense I developed in New York told me that I should leave. So, I left before the show ended.”

“Did you think I was going to do something to you?” I ask, because I was nervous that I had.

“Oh. You were going to do something to me,” Aesop smiled. “I was sitting there on the stage watching you all, and I definitely got that sense that something bad was about to happen.”

Then it dawned on me.

“Wait… the Eagle?”

The Eagle was San Francisco’s famous leather bar that had, under the stern tutelage of Doug Hilsinger, started having “rock nights.” Usually sandwiched between piss nights.

He smiled again, and then it started to come back to me. Someone had dragged a beer keg onstage while we played and sat on it, onstage, while we played, and smiled at me just like he was smiling now. I remember

telling myself that, if he was there by the end of the song I was playing, I would stick my hand up inside of him and make him cackle like a ventriloquist dummy.

“Something bad was very definitely going to happen to you,” I said, trying to figure out the endgame in mentioning it to me now.

“What the hell were you thinking sitting right onstage?”

“I just wanted to enjoy the show,” he laughed. Maybe harder because I was not laughing.

This was all it took, though. I sought out every Agalloch record I could find, confirmed in the belief that I’d either figure out how his balls had gotten so big or, at the very least, how I could sabotage their shows.

Neither of which happened.

What did happen is that I discovered a deep and abiding love for both Agalloch and, weirdly enough, Aesop Dekker. Too bad no one’s ever asked me how I found my way to them. I mean, they’re famous, you know!

ILLUSTRATION BY ED LUCE

THE COLLECTION II 1986 – 1996

INCLUDES NEWLY REMASTERED VERSIONS OF:

5150 • OU812 • BALANCE FOR UNLAWFUL CARNAL KNOWLEDGE STUDIO RARITIES 1988-2004 5LP • 5CD • DIGITAL

© 2023 Rhino Entertainment, A Warner Music Group Company.