STUDIO REPORT
ARE NO THE ANSWERS BOUNDARIES FOR THE BAND. AT THE GATES THERE ICE-T QUESTION
REFUSE/RESIST
ALEXI
LAIHO 197 9 - 2 0 2 0
FLEXI DISC
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MARCH 2021 // No. 197
T H E N E W F A C E of H E L L
FUDGE TUNNEL MOONSPELL CAVE IN BLOOD FROM THE SOUL AL S O
AKHLYS SWAMPBEAST DURBIN
EXTREMELY EXTREME
March 2021 [R 197] decibelmagazine.com
upfront 8 metal muthas And we continue to chase the son 10 obituary:
alexi laiho The metal world mourns yet another loss
12 low culture Happy to forget you 13 no corporate beer SAD!
features
reviews
16 swampbeast Positively negative
24 moonspell Antisocial media
18 durbin Activating beast mode
26 q&a: ice-t The O.G. himself talks life and loss in the age of COVID
51 lead review Gatecreeper provide one of the only good surprises of recent memory with An Unexpected Reality
20 akhlys The night extends towards new horizons 22 blood from the soul Never giving up the ghost
14 in the studio:
at the gates
No soul to steal
Prophets of Gloom COVER STORY COVER AND CONTENTS PHOTOS BY ESTER SEGARRA
30 the decibel
hall of fame Fudge Tunnel find an opportunistic home with uneasy company for their oft overlooked classic Hate Songs in E Minor
52 album reviews Releases from bands that are happy to never know what a Bean Dad is, including Cult of Luna, Mogwai and The Ruins of Beverast 64 damage ink Go ahead and jump
40
Decibel (ISSN 1557-2137) is published monthly by Red Flag Media, Inc., 1032 Arch Street, 3rd Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19107. Annual subscription price is $29.95. 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, 1032 Arch Street, 3rd Floor, Philadelphia PA 19107. © 2021 by Red Flag Media, Inc. ISSN 1557-2137 | USPS 023142 All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission of the publisher is strictly prohibited. 2 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
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REFUSE/RESIST
March 2021 [T197]
In the deep recesses of my base-
ment closet resides a box of early-’90s extreme metal T-shirts and longsleeves. This ill-fitting wardrobe—amassed from approximately 1991 to 1995—includes my then-daily ensemble of Arise, Shades of God and Turn Loose the Swansthemed, general population-repelling attire. These shirts—many of which have been retired for decades—are actually in excellent condition, yet aren’t for sale. I don’t know why. Honestly, I might as well show my kids this box’s location and label it “Things You Can Throw Away When I’m Dead.” Lest you think I’m some kind of deranged hoarder, I will occasionally donate one of these threaded treasures to a good home. When Decibel’s former customer service guru Mark Evans was hired back in 2006, he was, as a man of prodigious taste, a great admirer of my original Fudge Tunnel Hate Songs in E Minor shirt. (I’m certain it was an original because 15 years ago, you couldn’t have convinced anyone— the band included—that there was a market for merch from the long-defunct Nottingham noise trio.) Mark also consistently lobbied for a Hall of Fame induction of Hate Songs, which—to me—seemed to have an even narrower audience than shirts depicting stick figure decapitations. Since that story was clearly never happening, I thought that furnishing Mark with my Hate Songs shirt was the best consolation prize. And because his precious Cows Sexy Pee Story shirt was forever ruined after he wore it accompanying me to one of Watain’s first blood-soaked U.S. performances, this was the least I could offer in return. Fourteen years later, Mark gets his other wish courtesy of original dB contributor and fellow Fudge Tunnel advocate Nick Green via this issue’s Hate Songs in E Minor Hall of Fame induction, celebrating the 30th anniversary of the album. Mark moved to Texas a little over a decade ago, and I’ve not seen him since the magazine’s 100th issue show in 2013. But after a few texts, I received the above visual confirmation that both he and the Hate Songs shirt are living their best lives. Maybe it’s time to clear out the rest of those shirts. albert mudrian, Editor-in-Chief
PUBLISHER
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CONTRIBUTING WRITERS
Vince Bellino Adrien Begrand J. Bennett Dean Brown Louise Brown Chris Chantler Richard Christy Liz Ciavarella-Brenner Chris Dick Chris Dodge Sean Frasier Nick Green Raoul Hernandez Jonathan Horsley Neill Jameson Sarah Kitteringham Scott Koerber Daniel Lake Andrew Lee Shawn Macomber Shane Mehling Justin M. Norton Andy O'Connor Dutch Pearce Forrest Pitts Greg Pratt Jon Rosenthal Joseph Schafer Rod Smith Matt Solis Kevin Stewart-Panko Eugene S. Robinson Adem Tepedelen Jeff Treppel J Andrew Zalucky Bradley Zorgdrager CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS
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Rotten cotton
Our former dB blood cow… er, employee modeling our dear leader’s former wardrobe staple
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READER OF THE
MONTH (The Promised Land)” and said something like, “That was a tasty little ride cymbal flourish,” and Danny says, “I was wondering if you’d notice that!” In my head, I was like, Yessssssss. Tell us about your DuPage County Hardcore archival project. Please start by telling us what the DuPage County Hardcore archival project is.
Dave Hofer Chicago, IL
You’ve spent the majority of your adult life managing a record store. What has it been like to transition out of that into a career as a librarian?
Part of the reason I decided to pursue my MLIS and library-related work is because there are a lot of parallels between record store and library work. For example, they both involve databases of information that need to be appropriately cataloged. In addition, they both require reference work (“I’m looking for an album, I think the cover is black, do you have that in stock?”), outreach (setting up in-store performances, meet-andgreets, etc.) and acquiring materials that are appropriate to the communities they serve.
6 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
You’re the author of the Dan Lilker biography Perpetual Conversion. What’s the best Danny story that didn’t make the final cut of the book?
Any stories that didn’t make the final cut didn’t make the final cut on purpose! I started working on the book with no deal or potential publishers, just to see if I could make something happen. Thankfully, he was open to the idea. I had only spent a little time with him on a few Brutal Truth tours, so it’s not like I knew him. I was a bit starstruck, admittedly. There was one night, early in the interview process, where Danny and I were sitting in his car, listening to some then-unreleased Nokturnal Hellstorm material. I play drums, and noticed a tasty little ride cymbal flourish à la Pete Sandoval in “World of Shit
DuPage County Hardcore is an online archive of Chicagoland-area underground music I started in 2013. Initially, the idea was to digitize my old bands’ demos and upload them for former members that might not have copies and/or a way to play them. After I exhausted my old bands’ material, I started digitizing my close friends’ bands and uploading those. Now, it’s snowballed to over 450 out-of-print releases, all of which are free to download. I also painstakingly scan all inserts so anyone that downloads a release can enjoy the original artwork as well. Fudge Tunnel’s Hate Songs in E Minor is the Hall of Fame induction in this issue. As a longtime Chicago resident, tell us why noise rock-influenced metal bands don’t get more love.
I’d wager that it’s because of some surfacelevel “they don’t look very metal” kind of bullshit. I like when a band looks straitlaced and then absolutely crushes me. It’s like musical camouflage!
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
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NOW SLAYING Wonder what Decibel world HQ has been rocking for the past month? Well, here are the records that we spun most while we just wanted to find 11,780 votes for that last Ulcerate album.
Because not all of us were spawned in the darkest recesses of hell
This Month's Mutha: Marie Kathy Brodsky Mutha of Stephen Brodsky of Cave In
Tell us a little about yourself.
For the past 22 years I have worked in food service, mainly at the Marsh Elementary School in Methuen, MA. When I have the time, my hobbies are reading and gardening, and I enjoyed being mom to Baby, my pet cockatoo, and my two box turtles, Beavis and Beatrice. Also, my favorite place to vacation is anywhere on Cape Cod. Your son has very diverse musical tastes. What kind of hand did you have in that when he was growing up?
I have always encouraged Steve in all of his musical endeavors. But I have to be honest: I also encouraged him to go to college just in case his musical career didn’t pan out. Luckily, he’s very talented and has proved me wrong (but he did get his Associate Degree). Back in grammar school, he wanted to take saxophone lessons. I have to admit, when he first started, it was horrible. But after a few weeks, he started to get better. And then he got tired of it and quit. Then he found one of his dad’s guitars and started playing it. He would be in his room all night, playing until his fingers would bleed. When he was about 12 or 13, he started a band (New Breed) with his friends in the neighborhood. I think at first I was the only mom of his band members to let them practice in our basement. He also took private guitar lessons for a couple years, which he really enjoyed. But his father was also very instrumental (pun intended) in his success. They would talk about music and different bands that they both enjoyed. Music is in his genes, as his great 8 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
uncle Sammy used to sing in the North End, and his grandmother Marilyn also used to sing as well. Steve has played a lot of memorable covers both in Cave In and his gig on Two Minutes to Late Night. Any personal favorites?
Well, Steve always surprises me! I have seen him perform in both Cave In and Mutoid Man, and I have seen him on Two Minutes to Late Night, which is a different venue for him, but no less enjoyable (although a little over the top sometimes). His solo performances may be my favorites. I will never forget the night he performed solo at the House of Blues. It was special. He recently joined Old Man Gloom, giving him at least three active bands, counting Cave In and Mutoid Man. What are your impressions of him onstage?
He is very comfortable up there. He knows how to connect to and engage with his audience. He loves to perform, and that charisma comes across in all of his shows. He puts everything he has into each of his performances. What’s something most people wouldn’t know about Steve?
Steve is a wonderful artist. Early in his music career, he drew much of the artwork for the front covers of his albums and CDs. I don’t think he has much time for that now, though! I also doodled and drew cartoons in my early years, and I still enjoy doodling today. Some of my artwork even ended up on one of his CDs! —ANDREW BONAZELLI
Albert Mudrian : e d i t o r i n c h i e f Gatecreeper, An Unexpected Reality Tribulation, Where the Gloom Becomes Sound Sentenced, Shadows of the Past The Crown, Crowned in Terror Fudge Tunnel, Creep Diets ---------------------------------Patty Moran : c u s t o m e r s e r v i c e Dry Cleaning, Boundary Road Snacks and Drinks In the Company of Serpents, Lux Fontanes D.C., A Hero’s Death Thurston Moore, By the Fire Clockcleaner, Babylon Rules ---------------------------------James Lewis : a d s a l e s The Crown, “Driven to Disaster” Decibel Flexi The Crown, Royal Destroyer Clutch, The Weathermaker Vault Series Vol. 1 Wolfheart, Winterborn Ignominious Incarceration, Of Winter Born ---------------------------------Mike Wohlberg : a r t d i r e c t o r Yelle, L’Ère du Verseau Body Count, Carnivore Carpenter Brut, Leather Teeth Various Artists, Cyberpunk 2077 Original Soundtrack Sexless Marriage, Sexless Marriage ---------------------------------Aaron Salsbury : m a r k e t i n g a n d s a l e s Various Artists, Killed by Deathrock Vol. 1 Shadows Fall, Of One Blood Cattle Decapitation, Human Jerky GWAR, Scumdogs of the Universe (30th Anniversary Edition) Killer Be Killed, Reluctant Hero
GUEST SLAYER
---------------------------------Piotr Wiwczarek : v a d e r Slayer, Show No Mercy Havok, V Dark Angel, We Have Arrived Abysmal Dawn, Obsolescence Deicide, Deicide
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WILLIAM BASINSKI Lamentations Transforming operatic tragedy into abyssal beauty, the tape loop pioneer has crafted his most mournful work since The Disintegration Loops.
MOGWAI As The Love Continues The Scottish icons return with their first new album in four years, continuing to offer solace from the mundane.
SPARKLE DIVISION To Feel Embraced The new duo of William Basinski and Preston Wendel debut their unlikely concoction of vintage lounge, new jazz, and sample-based electronic groove.
INVENTIONS Continuous Portrait The duo of Matthew Robert Cooper (Eluvium) and Mark T. Smith (Explosions In The Sky) returns with a brilliant, boundless album.
ENVY The Fallen Crimson Japan’s most iconic and influential post-hardcore band returns with their first new album in five years. Released in the UK/EU by Pelagic Records.
EXPLOSIONS IN THE SKY How Strange, Innocence Anniversary Edition Celebrating the 20th anniversary of the birth of Explosions In The Sky with this exquisitely remastered, repackaged reissue.
EXPLOSIONS IN THE SKY The Rescue – Anniversary Edition Beautifully remastered and repackaged, Explosions In The Sky’s sought-after “secret album” is finally available on vinyl for the first time ever.
MASERATI Enter The Mirror The legendary cross-continental synth-rock group returns with their first new album in five years, taking equal inspiration from 80s industrial noise and new wave.
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OBITUARIES
C
hildren of Bodom mastermind and guitarist Alexi Laiho lost an ongoing battle with his health in late December at 41, leaving an incredible legacy not only in the Finnish music scene, but in metal music overall. A prodigal talent, Laiho’s works as early as 1993 quickly gave way to the now wildly popular Children of Bodom, though he also collaborated with bands like Impaled Nazarene, Thy Serpent, Sinergy and more. At just 18 years old, Laiho had ascended to underground guitar hero status with the release of Children of Bodom’s debut, Something Wild. It took a few albums to gain the popularity that followed them to the band’s 2019 breakup, but from there, Children of Bodom became international sensations, regularly touring overseas and outside their native Espoo, Finland.
Looking back, Laiho was always attracted to the heavy metal which would skyrocket him to fame. “Everything about it was so fuckin’ attractive,” Laiho once told Metal Hammer. “How they played, the sound of the guitar, the way the guys looked. They were dangerous. I was so fuckin’ drawn into it. And I still am.” Laiho would eventually be known to embody the danger of the rock ‘n’ roll lifecycle and would develop an often destructive relationship with alcohol, earning him the nickname “Wildchild.” Laiho was known for his work ethic and personal relationship with his music, which fused an eclectic musical background with a base of extreme metal. A mix of power metal, melodic death metal, ’80s pop music and a neoclassical melodic sense, Children of Bodom’s guitar and
10 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
keyboard heroics dazzled critics and casual listeners alike via record’s like 2000’s acclaimed Follow the Reaper. “Work ethic is important,” Laiho once told MusicRadar. “Being in this band requires people who are hard workers.” Losing Alexi Laiho at such a young age is unfair, but the world is unfair. People die and the world goes on. What Laiho has left in his wake—an army of talented guitarists, a stellar body of work and memories for tens of thousands of people—defines more than his demise. Alexi Laiho was a hero to many, his guitar antics inspiring the aspiring to take their instrument seriously in hopes of living in his long shadow. You probably remember the first time you heard Children of Bodom. Why not reminisce and put on an album in Alexi’s honor. He’s earned it. —JON ROSENTHAL
PHOTO BY MAREK SABOGAL
TRAPPIST FRONTMAN crafts a monthly journey through
I’m Sure All Our Problems Went Away Midnight January 1 emember shows?” Please shut the
fuck up, every single one of you, especially the ones who follow it up with some reference to a fucking South Park episode that originally aired five years ago. You’re about as funny as an orphanage failing a health inspection. Of course, we remember shows, you fucking tit. All you’re doing is standing there, taking up space (probably not six feet away from the nearest person, with your mask around your nose) while the people whose livelihoods depended on live music had the equivalent of a large, twisting tree branch shoved up their asses for the last 10 months. During the first few weeks of the pandemic, we all seemed pretty good, like we were going to try to help out those in the creative arts whose lives were upended, and a lot of us donated when we could, and it helped. For a minute. But the afterglow of being altruistic wore off for a number of reasons. People in every industry lost their jobs, and life became somewhat tense when even going out to the grocery store to buy some Mr. Pibb seemed like a late-stage video game mission. Or people just got bored with the idea of the pandemic and moved on. And now we’re here. The government has done about as good of a job as one could expect helping venues and artists, but a lot of people forget that because they’re too caught up in thinking the election was “stolen.” They also forgot that Trump was friends with Jeffrey Epstein, but it’s not in good taste to make fun of the mentally handicapped. At least there’s a new administration right around the corner, right? This joke wasn’t terribly funny the first time around. I have as much faith in anyone in government giving a 12 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
fuck about the arts as I do in my ability to pass a kidney stone the size of a citrus fruit without spending the rest of my life with a pink sock attached to me. Does this mean I think you shouldn’t bother the piss out of them with calls and emails (I don’t expect you to write actual letters, but, hey, surprise me) about bills supporting venues and artists? While it might not make a difference, it will at least be an irritant to these people, and who doesn’t like making rich old men aggravated? Record stores are still hurting, too. Check in on your favorite, see if they’re doing Discogs or appointment-based shopping or selling gift cards. Anything will help. Wait… that’s not entirely true. Posting how upset you are that they closed when you didn’t do shit to financially support them in the last year doesn’t help. You’ve basically handed them a vibrator with dead batteries and told them to do the work themselves. You’re a fucking monster. Bandcamp is continuing their Bandcamp Friday initiative, where they don’t take a cut of anyone’s pie for one day a month. I know many of you plan your purchases around those days, and it’s made a difference for a lot of bands and labels that would have had even harder years without your support. I don’t expect everyone to be charitable all the time—that’s unrealistic and hypocritical. Plus, I realize a large part of the readership is already doing what they can to help bands, labels, stores and venues, and it might not be enough, which is a pretty shit feeling. But playing the part of Sisyphus in this game is far more noble than being the stale asshole who asks if you “’member shows?”
MORBID ALES BY CHRIS DODGE
Real Brews or Fake News?
I
n a time of seemingly constant
misinformation, I’ve been duped many times thinking fake beers were real and vice versa, especially considering how many bizarre craft beers are on the market. The most convincing phony brews are the hilarious creative output of Justin Shane via his @boxofchowder page on Instagram. Think it’s easy? See if you can tell which of these is real or fake at first glance.
Oskar Blues French’s Mustard Beer: This
5.2% ABV wheat beer not only boasts key lime, lemon and tangerine flavors, but it’s brewed with 150 pounds of French’s Mustard. Completely absurd, with no rightful place in the real world. If 2020 couldn’t get weirder, Oskar Blues did in fact break the internet by shipping this limited brew last summer. Real. Stone Arrogant Mustard Ale: From the
brewery famously known for criticizing “fizzy yellow beers,” this 7.2% ABV brew promises a “hop beast” “brewed with whole grain Dijon mustard.” I accepted it as fact until some deeper research exposed this was clever chicanery courtesy of Mr. Shane. Fake.
All the brews that’s fit to drink Despite a plethora of @boxofchowder’s masterful fakes (above), our fearless columnist braves the all-too-real sour pickle beer
Best Maid Sour Pickle Beer: 4.7% ABV gose style brau brewed with pickle juice. I’ve had a whiskey shot with a “pickleback” shot of pickle juice, which was interesting, but not necessary, but a full-on pickle beer didn’t seem legit. Then my pal Jack Blackmon from Austin sent a package and, you guessed it, this fucker is real. Salty and sour, this puckersome brew from Martin House Brewing is a tough one to swallow, although my buddy Jack drank a six-pack. There’s also a spicy Bloody Mary variant. Real. Spear Beer Asparagus Ale: A sessionable, straw-colored brew with the least likely veggie additive. If I hadn’t visited the Right Brain Brewery booth at Great American Beer Fest, I would never believe this exists. It was astonishingly tasty; a hint of asparagus keeps it interesting, but it mainly drank like a wheat beer. I’d have 10 of these over another pickle beer. Real. Cheetos Flamin’ Hot Snacks Beer: This
abomination should not exist, but “thanks” once again to the ingenuity of Martin House Brewing, their 5.2% Fiery Crunchy Cheesie Bois Sour is indeed available in their tap room. Real. Jimmy Dean Breakfast Beer: Three to
choose from: West Coast Style IPA with chorizo and hops; American Cream Ale with pork sausage, gravy and Tahitian vanilla beans; and Imperial Stout with various meats and espresso. Innumerable breakfast beers have hit the shelves—mainly coffee ales with
a few bacon brews along the way—but, alas, we still have not attained this level of liquid breakfast. Thanks, boxofchowder. Fake. Pad Thai Peanut Ale: Brown ale that repli-
cates your favorite Thai dish—flaked coconut, peanut butter, Thai chili peppers, dry-hopped cilantro. No need to grab a fork because Right Brain Brewery strikes again with this 7.9% dinner in a bottle. Real. Bull Testicle Beer: Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout by Wynkoop Brewing is brewed with sliced and roasted bull balls. I’ve had a sip of this on every trip to Denver over the past decade or so, and it drinks like a standard pub stout. Not as ballsy as the name implies— just roasty and refreshing. Real. Whale Testicle Beer: Brown Ale flavored
with an 18-pound whale testicle smoked over a mound of sheep dung. Too extreme to be legal, yet Iceland’s Stedji Brewery released their Hrutur ale despite constant threats from animal rights activists. For a culture whose culinary specialty is fermented rotten shark, whale balls and feces beer isn’t such a stretch. Real. New England Clam Chowder IPA: Following predictable brewing trends of recent years, a dry-hopped, hazy IPA with lactose and flavored with Campbell’s Chunky brand clams and potatoes. For further proof we live in the Bizarro Universe, at least two testicle beers exist, but this soupy offshoot does not. Yet more trickery from our pal at boxofchowder. Fake.
DECIBEL : MARCH 2021 : 13
AT THE GATES
STUDIO REPORT
AT THE GATES ALBUM TITLE
TBA PRODUCERS
Jens Bogren and At the Gates STUDIOS
Studio Gröndahl; Sonic Train Studios; Welfare Sounds Studio; Soundlab Studios RELEASE DATE
Spring 2021 LABEL
Century Media
A
drian Erlandsson is only days into tracking drums with master craftsman Jens Bogren at Studio Gröndahl in Stockholm when Decibel calls frontman Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg to get the latest on the follow-up to the (Swedish) Grammy-nominated To Drink From the Night Itself. “I would say there is a mix of focus and determination,” beams Lindberg. “This is the fruit of a long process. I think me and Jonas [Björler, bassist] started writing the first song for this record in a backstage room in New York on the [2018] Behemoth tour.” While the writing started two years ago, according to Lindberg, the process has been insanely energized. Our man is talking about how the pressure to continue where landmark Decibel Hall of Famer Slaughter of the Soul is gone. Since reforming in 2011, they’ve not-so-secretly plotted to be free from the yoke of their storied legacy. “We feel that there are no boundaries for the band anymore,” Lindberg advances. “The atmosphere is, therefore, one of 100 percent creativity. It is very rewarding to finally hear the new songs come together in the studio. Of course, there have been pre-productions and demos, but to hear them like this is always exciting.”
For At the Gates fans and purists, the new album will, at various junctures, venture headlong into the experimental. No, Alf Svensson hasn’t returned to the fold—guitarist Jonas Stålhammar fills that role admirably—but the Swedes are more than ready to take the left hand path. “It is dark and heavy,” offers Lindberg. “It does sound like At the Gates. When we write together, it always ends up [like] that, but there are a lot of [new] elements that we are very excited about. Our performance, as part of my curation at Roadburn last year, made us realize that we are now capable of incorporating a lot more of our avant-garde ideas into the band’s sound.” As for guest musicians—a near and dear part of the At the Gates framework—it’s all hush-hush. Lindberg says it’s far too early in the process to reveal who might appear, but he’s nearly frothing at the mouth in anticipation. We know this much at this stage—the follow-up to To Drink From the Night Itself will be a 2021 highlight. —CHRIS DICK
SCOTT BURNS RETURNS TO THE PRODUCER’S CHAIR FOR KELLY SHAEFER’S TILL THE DIRT 14 : M A RCH 2021 : DECIBEL
Kelly Shaefer (Atheist) formed brutal groove outfit Till the Dirt—featuring Yoav Ruiz-Feingold (bass), Daniel Martinez (guitars), Chris Martin (guitars) and Anthony Medaglia (drums)—out of restless fingers and creative bursts during the pandemic. Now, Till the Dirt are holed up with engineer Preston DiCarlo and Scott Fucking Burns recording their debut album, Outside the Spiral, at Tampa-based MasterSound Studios.
“Till the Dirt started when I was having a few drinks,” Shaefer tells Decibel. “I started writing songs. They weren’t like Atheist. So, I put on vocals and sent the songs out to my peers—guys like Steve DiGiorgio and Jeff Loomis, who also guest on the album. I asked, ‘Do these songs mean anything?’ They were like, ‘Holy fuck! This is super unique!’ I got juiced on that feedback. I wrote 25 songs in three months. Now we’re mixing the songs with Preston and Scott.” “I got involved based on the quality of the songs Kelly had sent me,” adds Burns. “He was able to capture a live-like rawness that I really liked. They had an old-school feel to them. So, me, Kelly and a friend of ours, Tim Hubbard, talked about doing a oneoff label, releasing the album on splatter vinyl limited to 1,000 copies. So, Till the Dirt will be one-and-done for me—no exceptions—but I’m having a lot of fun doing it.” —CHRIS DICK
PHOTO BY TIM HUBBARD
STUDIO SHORT SHOTS
SWAMPBEAST
SWAMPBEAST L.A. deathcrushers bide their time while the world burns
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arecov mena is a pretty positive guy. “We truly just want to create music for the sake of creating it,” he says. “We wanted to do this for years. We’re proud of it and put everything that we had into it.” ¶ During a global pandemic, you tend to not expect this kind of uplifting chatter from a drummer/vocalist who helped write a song called “Convulsing in the Shit and Piss of Man.” But he and his bandmates in Swampbeast are rightfully pleased with what they’ve accomplished on their debut full-length Seven Evils Spawned of Seven Heads. ¶ “We always thought we’d stay a duo or a trio with a bass player,” Mena says of himself and guitarist/vocalist/co-founder Griffin Werk. “But when we met Mike [Royal, guitar], it was a perfect match. We were good friends right off the bat. His guitar skills were on point. He’s a shredder. When he came on, it just clicked so well and it brought a crazier coolness to our sound.” ¶ Whatever Royal may have added, together the trio summoned an absolutely wrathful batch of charred death metal that 16 : M A RCH 2021 : DECIBEL
never lets the evil outshine the riffs. Too hooky and well-executed to be considered bestial (but just as overpowering), this probably fucking slays in a live setting. No one knows when that will actually happen again, granted, but this reality hasn’t dampened their spirits. “Deep down we’ve always wanted to tour,” Mena says. “But where we all are in our lives, there’s other things going on. I just had a daughter who’s about five months old, and I got married this year. As great as [touring] would be, finding the time to create and record the album in the way we wanted it, that’s good enough for us.” Of course, Mena is not terminally cherry, as evidenced by his and Werk’s lyrics. “We wanted to present what we thought was a reflection of
complete death that is destined for all of mankind,” he explains. “It’s a ruthless truth: complete slaughter and hellfire. In a world possessed by material desires, political agendas [and] religious ideologies, in our opinion the worst is yet to come.” But before the slaughter and/or hellfire, Swampbeast are using this momentum to continue creating. “We have some new songs in the works, and plans on what to do next,” Mena says. “Maybe a split or EP. We’re taking our time with it. We’re definitely not stopping.” At the moment, he’s happy to bask in the release of Seven Evils and his own personal good fortune: “It’s a blessing in disguise. I get to handle some family stuff real quick, let the world figure itself out, and then I can come back and aurally devastate it.” —SHANE MEHLING
DURBIN
DURBIN
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hen asked which classic heavy metal song he wishes he’d written, James Durbin thinks about it and says, “Judas Priest’s ‘Victim of Changes.’ ‘Whiskey woman, don’t you know that you are driving me insaaaaaaaaaaane!’” ¶ If there’s one singer who would be the perfect candidate to tackle one of the most vocally demanding metal songs of all time, it’s Durbin. A lifelong devotee of classic metal, he first attracted attention on American Idol, which led to a string of solo rock albums, and then his admirable run as lead singer for the revived Quiet Riot, during which he recorded a pair of albums before Frankie Banali’s tragic death in the summer of 2020. The dude is a tremendously versatile frontman (with Quiet Riot he brought some welcome bombast and attitude to the geezer-pleaser classic rock circuit), but his calling is heavy fuckin’ metal, which he showcases on the hugely entertaining The Beast Awakens. ¶ “Frontiers contacted me in late 2019 about doing a solo project or being a part of a ‘supergroup,’” Durbin says. 18 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
“I was very adamant that this awakening, if you will, would be rebranded as, simply, Durbin. I began writing immediately, as well as contacted some songwriters, but shortly after, we were hit with the COVID-19 pandemic and I was left on my own. So, I took it as a real challenge and set forth to write the album by myself: every riff, melody and lyric. Once I had gotten my bandmates on board—drummer Mike Vanderhule [Y&T] and bassist Barry Sparks [Yngwie Malmsteen, Michael Schenker Group]—they tracked to my demo guitars and took every song to another dimension entirely. It’s the same story with all of my guest guitar players: While I wrote all the songs, everyone who contributed to them really made them what they are.” If you’re going to make a record that emulates the vintage sounds
of 35 years ago, the artist has to be a student of that sound and then sell the hell out of it; what’s most impressive about The Beast Awakens is the palpable enthusiasm Durbin has for this music. You feel it, and his credibility is obvious from the get-go. “During the early phase of the album’s inception, I listened to a lot of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell, everything Dio, Judas Priest’s Sad Wings of Destiny and Defenders of the Faith, mostly,” he says. “There was also some Blind Guardian, Iron Maiden, Uriah Heep, Sir Lord Baltimore, Ozzy, etc. ‘Riders on the Wind’ is so reminiscent of that classic ’80s metal sound. It’s one of those songs that I sit and wonder, as a songwriter, ‘Where did that come from, and can I have more like it?’” —ADRIEN BEGRAND
PHOTO BY HEIDI DURBIN
Former Quiet Riot vocalist is anything but idle in his eponymous new band
AKHLYS
AKHLYS
Nightbringer founder and friends craft panoramic blackgaze tour de force
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o matter how you feel about Karl Marx, there’s a lot to be said for musicians owning the means of production—especially when it comes to less commercial fields of endeavor, per black metal, where pretty much every post-1990 entity of note has benefitted at some point from possession of a home studio. ¶ Not just solo acts, either; consider Naas Alcameth. While Nightbringer’s founder inevitably ends up working with Dave Otero at the latter’s Flatline Audio on every release by both his principal vehicle and the stable of side projects he’s maintained for a couple decades, the multi-instrumentalist and vocalist’s own Promethean Forge facility stands tall as the point of origin for every recording he’s involved with. This is especially the case with the third full-length by Alcameth’s dark ambient/BM fusion project, Akhlys. ¶ “I spent approximately five months writing and tracking Melinoë,” he emails. “I tend to do both in tandem, tracking ideas as I come up with them, discarding what does not work, keeping what does, 20 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
re-tracking, refining, repeat. Given that we were right in the midst of the whole COVID ordeal, I found myself in a unique situation, one that was very hermetic in a way. This allowed for a whole new level of obsession, as I was able to work on the album nearly every night, often staying up until dawn. The strange events of the world also brought about a strange state of mind, really, which I believe most can relate to. It was all very conducive to the spirit I was feeding here.” Listening to the album, you’d never guess that a series of sleep paralysis events inspired Alcameth to make it. Harmonically dense and melodically every bit as rich as anything by the classically influenced Nightbringer, Melinoë flows naturally enough to make you feel more like you’re living through
a series of beautifully cataclysmic events, rather than just passively consuming a work of audio art. “Recording as Akhlys is definitely an organic process for me,” Alcameth writes. “I typically find an atmosphere I am aiming for within the initial compositions and it tends to unfold from there, gaining a life of its own. Recording Melinoë was very much a time-andplace, lightning-in-a-bottle scenario for me, and I feel the album burns with the strangeness and adversity of it all. I always allow for contingencies, and I let myself be led by the compositions as they arose, rather than try to steer it all in a fixed and linear fashion. Having Promethean Forge allows me these absolute freedoms to do all of this unrestricted and in the way I feel inclined. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” —ROD SMITH
BLOOD FROM THE SOUL
Shane Embury resurrects early ’90s project with a new all-star cast
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f (only for the sake of your bank account) you wish Shane Embury would ease up on his prolific recording spree, it’s time to shift blame away from the Birmingham basher and redirect your overdraft notices to Dirk Verbeuren, Jacob Bannon and Jesper Liveröd, the trio Embury credits for motivating the resurrection of his long-dormant industrial metal project, Blood From the Soul. ¶ “Dirk Verbeuren was instrumental in my decision!” enthuses Embury via email after a night in the studio. “He was a big fan of the first album, and we talked about re-recording it with drums. The idea of revamping the whole project grew on me, and I had five tracks for something that wasn’t happening, so I switched gears, sent them to Dirk and it began. I love Dirk’s enthusiasm; it’s infectious!” ¶ Blood From the Soul originally trod the boards in the early ’90s, with Embury handling all instruments and drum programming, and Sick of It All’s Lou Koller on vocals. 1993’s To Spite the Gland That Breeds was the lone result of this collaboration, followed by 27 years of silence until online announcements appeared
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from Converge vocalist Bannon expressing excitement about the project’s rebirth, his involvement and forthcoming album, DSM-5. “I tried reaching out to Lou a few times,” says Embury about the new lineup. “We’re both busy, and maybe the messages got lost in translation? I’ve known Jacob since 2002 when Converge played with Lock Up in Japan. He once asked me about BFTS, and that lodged itself in my brain when I thought about who could front the new version. Jacob really took the bull by the horns and layered this new beginning with multiple visions, which is greatly inspiring. Jesper [Burst/ Nasum] and I have been friends for 20 years, and have always rambled about doing more together. I’m happy he came onboard; I need all the strength around me I can get.” That collective strength resulted in DSM-5, first-class, organic, industrialized metal elegance that’s lovingly embraced by soaring postpunk. Adding heft to the album
is Bannon’s lyrical direction, a stealthy treatise on modern life and the impact of humanity’s pace that profoundly spoke to Embury. “This album and band are parts of my true self, musically and lyrically, even though I didn’t write the lyrics,” he stresses. “I fully endorse Jacob’s experimental themes and, as I read the lyrics, it felt like he had access to my thoughts. Are they science fiction or metaphors? It’s ultimately about expression and creativity. Politics has always been boring for me, and I’m more comfortable in the realm of the unknown. This year has been weird for everyone, and I’m still finding out who I am and where I’m heading, and BFTS is necessary therapy, especially when asshole politicians try and stamp out culture and creativity—the very things needed to express, feel and relieve the symptoms of life. Emotions conjured by paintings, poetry or music should not be dismissed or discarded.” —KEVIN STEWART-PANKO
PHOTOS BY GOBINDER JHITTA, HANNAH VERBEUREN AND MELISSA MAHONEY
BLOOD FROM THE SOUL
ENJOYING the
SILENCE portuguese goth metal legends
H
a
emerge from lockdown solitude with subtle new album and a sober worldview by
chris dick
ermitage is Moonspell’s 13th full-length. It marks nearly three decades—more than that if you count pre-Moonspell black metal cabal Morbid God—of gothic ruin and metallic misery. But if frontman Fernando Ribeiro and team have their way, carrying their storied legacy into ruby land might not happen. Admittedly, they’re in the twilight of their career. If Hermitage the music and Hermitage the lyrics are any indication, the Lisbon-based greats are recoiling slowly from the unrelenting speed and data-driven needs of modernity. ¶ “I’m 46 now,” Ribeiro says before pausing. “Sometimes I wonder, ‘Why am I doing Moonspell?’ If I had fuck-you cash, I’d be a librarian, reading all day. But that’s not the case. I don’t have that kind of money. So, I will—or we will—continue as Moonspell for as long as it makes sense for us.” Of course, Moonspell adore their fans and have a blast engaging them—whether it’s with albums like Wolfheart, Extinct or Hermitage—but the devil stirring the detail pot isn’t doing much to win over guys like Ribeiro, who’s a hopeless romantic, a father, a published author and, obviously, a voracious reader. Digital age things like Spotify analytics, Facebook like charts and comment section heatmaps are of little interest. Just as folks in Portugal (and elsewhere) quit cities en masse as COVID-19 raged for bucolic lives in the countryside, Moonspell are also decamping from the music industry’s inevitable descent into the valuation of algorithms, machine learning and big data over good ’ol gut feeling. “We are so addicted to technology and information that, I think, we have given up seeing the rest,” says Ribeiro. “I see this with music, too. As much as I love the team at Napalm for how they use social media for marketing and promoting music now, it’s not for me, I think. Recently, our Facebook page was hacked, and I had people I haven’t talked to in years call me to ask if everything was OK. We have like 255,000 followers who were seeing all this crazy shit. But I wondered: Would Hermitage be fine without it? Would our sales be any different 24 4 :: M MA AR RC CH H 22 00 22 11 :: D DE EC C II B BE EL L 2
without Facebook? If it suddenly went away, I’d probably be fine with it.” This sentiment—an atavist’s perspective, perhaps—drives at the heart of Hermitage. It all started immediately after the release of 2017’s super-important 1755 album. Ribeiro had read with great delight the Michael Finkel novel The Stranger in the Woods, a story about a 20-year-old named Christopher Knight who absconded to the forest to become a hermit. From there, the Moonspell frontman expanded to other solitary professions—mostly of the religious variety like Zoroaster—while also taking on new views of why and how he and his bandmates would continue after two-plus decades on the hunt. To wit, they would eschew the razor-sharp perfection of producer Jens Bogren for producer Jaime Gomez Arellano’s posi-vibes and Persian rugs. After many years looking outward, Moonspell were keenly interested in what lies on the inside for Hermitage. Social distancing, as a result of the pandemic, complemented the band’s retrograde motion. “Most people will think that the lyrics were inspired by the pandemic, but they’re not,” Ribeiro says. “That’s fine with me, though. I like that people will read what they want into
my lyrics. I was fascinated with the concepts of solitude and silence and the people—monks and nuns, for example—who take it very seriously. Outside of the pandemic, I find our model in the West to be a little too much. We’ve had our glass, and we’ve had our fill from it. We’re dropping water or wine everywhere. I see Hermitage as kind of a break from all that. Hermitage is about getting a proper view of the world again.” Musically, Moonspell’s lucky 13 portends change. It’s not apparent on “Common Prayers”—the most “Moonspell” song on offer— but inside the meat of Hermitage, there’s a different crepuscular beast at play. The berceuse “All or Nothing” intoxicates with guitarist Ricardo Amorim and bassist Aires Pereira’s tactful (and beautiful) interplay. There’s a lot of Lynch in “Entitlement,” with its noir metal dreamscapes. And the title track expands proficiently and unexpectedly upon the ideas Tiamat posited an eon ago. Hermitage may not have “Alma Mater,” “Full Moon Madness,” “Scorpion Flower” or “Extinct,” but under the surface of introspection is an album that is defiant, diverse and perfectly suited for unaccompanied walks through cities, deserts and forests alike. “I think I hear a little bit of Wildhoney in Hermitage,” suggests Ribeiro. “That album has a lot of atmosphere. Hermitage does, too. I can feel songs like ‘Gaia’ and ‘Whatever That Hurts’ in what we’re doing now. I wanted less of the rock ‘n’ roll thing—like on ‘The Last of Us’—and more atmosphere. The most rock ‘n’ roll song we have on the new album is ‘Common Prayers,’ which was very well done and sounds like Moonspell, but when we did songs like ‘Without Rule,’ ‘Entitlement’ or ‘All or Nothing,’ they ended being the most important songs on the album. They’re a bit more the future of Moonspell than, for instance, ‘Common Prayers.’”
I think I hear a little bit of
TIAMAT’S WILDHONEY
in Hermitage. That album has a lot of atmosphere. Hermitage does, too. I can feel songs like ‘Gaia’ and ‘Whatever That Hurts’ in what we’re doing now. fernando ribeiro DECIBEL : MARCH 2021 : 25
interview by
QA j. bennett
WIT H
ICE-T
The legendary rapper and BODY COUNT frontman on Lemmy, COVID vaccines and the ongoing prescience of “Cop Killer”
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H
igh-pitched yelps pierce the speakers as we log into our Zoom squeezin’?” It’s just a bad situation, and the only
chat with Ice-T. “I got five puppies in my house right now,” he says. “I can’t control ’em.” He’s clicking through backgrounds on his screen— concert crowd, beach scene, slick penthouse—before settling on a prison tier. “I figure I’m on lockdown, so this is appropriate,” our man says with a laugh. ¶ Ice’s long-running metal band, Body Count, is up for a Grammy this year—for the track “Bum-Rush” off their latest album, Carnivore. The song forecasted mass uprisings well before the pandemic and the George Floyd protests, but it’s just one significant moment on an album with many. “Point the Finger” features a guest shot from Power Trip frontman Riley Gale, who passed in August of last year. “When I’m Gone” is Ice’s tribute to fallen rapper Nipsey Hussle, who was killed in 2019. “6 in tha Mornin’” and “Colors” are Body Count’s remakes of two of Ice’s biggest ’80s rap hits—the latter boasting drums from ex-Slayer member Dave Lombardo. Last but not least, the album includes a cover of Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades,” a song that turned 40 in 2020, the same year Carnivore was released. ¶ We posted the Grammy portion of our exchange on the Decibel site—with full Zoom video—but the rest of our wide-ranging conversation is below. We’re here talking in mid-December, so Lemmy’s birthday is coming up, as well as the anniversary of his death. You covered “Ace of Spades” on Carnivore. Why did you pick that song?
We started a tradition with [2014’s] Manslaughter album, which was the return of Body Count, where we started covering songs by the bands that inspired us. The first group we did was Suicidal [Tendencies], because they were the first band in L.A. that had the gangster look. And when we started performing, Suicidal fans were our first fans. They came to our shows all ST’d up. Then on Bloodlust, we did Slayer. Of course, I’m a big fan, and I always wanted my band to have the speed and accuracy of Slayer. Then we did “Ace of Spades” and people were like, “Where does Motörhead come into it?” And I always tell ’em to listen to “Cop Killer.” Motörhead sounds like you’re on a Harley going down the highway at 100 miles an hour, and that’s what “Cop Killer” sounds like. So, of course, we gotta do “Ace of Spades,” but of course I forgot that I actually gotta sing it. They recorded it and I was like, “Oh, shit—can I pull this off?” [Laughs] But I went in there and channeled Lemmy and I haven’t gotten any complaints. You worked with Lemmy on the Airheads soundtrack back in the ’90s. Do you have any good stories from that experience?
He was just official. When you meet people like that, they’re heavies, you know? He respected me, and we just clicked. He’s Lemmy; I’m Ice-T, and he knew about me. It’s like meeting Ozzy or anybody who really is who they are and isn’t searching
for who they are. He was very, very fucking cool, and he was having a good time. He’s missed. Out of all the lead singers of rock bands, he was one of the most original dudes—even the way he had his mic up when he would sing. When we get ready to perform “Ace of Spades,” I put the mic up like that, just out of tribute to the dude. You mentioned “Cop Killer,” which is a track you obviously got a lot of shit for back in the day. People didn’t realize it was a protest song. With all the protests that happened this summer after George Floyd’s murder, has the song taken on more significance for you?
I think it’s too aggressive for what’s going on right now. If somebody made “Cop Killer” right now, I don’t know if that would be a good look. I’m always ahead of the game. The story behind “Cop Killer” was that I was singing “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads in the studio and Vic [“Beatmaster V” Wilson], my drummer, was like, “We need a cop killer.” When I asked him why, he said, “The cops did this, the cops did that— they shot my man’s wife when she was pregnant.” And my brain said, “What if somebody snapped and went after them, based on police brutality? That would check ’em.” I didn’t know this character I created would become a hero. But the song wasn’t, “Let’s go kill cops” or “You should go kill cops.” It was a character, a psycho killer. It’s just unfortunate that the same shit I was protesting against is still going on 30 years later. I did a song the other day where I said, “Cops still killing Blacks for no reason, when do we stop taking knees and start
way to really understand it is for it to happen to you. You got any brothers? Yessir.
Imagine if your brother was George Floyd. White or Black, it doesn’t matter—watching the cops stand on his neck for nine minutes? You couldn’t even fathom it. So, a lot of people don’t understand the pain because it’s not really them. But if you can imagine that happening to your wife or your kid, you might understand the rage. I can’t even watch the whole video.
Because you’re human. That’s what I’m saying. This is a human rights issue. No human should be treating another human like that and getting away with it. So, “Cop Killer” was me saying, “Once you start breaking the law, as a police officer, it’s just two men in the street now. And I’m not gonna let you kill me.” I can stand behind that record today, even playing a cop on TV—which has got nothin’ to do with nothin’. I don’t hate cops. I hate bullies; I hate racists; I hate people that abuse they power. Now, if you happen to wear a badge and you fall under that umbrella? Fuck you, too. That badge doesn’t absolve you of any of those things. If anything, you should be that much more honest. You should be that much more righteous. So, you are held to a higher standard. But I don’t want people taking off on cops. It’s a figure of speech. It’s art. We still close our show with that song. On Carnivore, you redid another one of your big songs, “Colors,” with Dave Lombardo on drums. Why did you want to record it with Body Count, and how did you know Lombardo was the man for the job?
Me and Dave got the same birthday, and I’ve been running into him for years. People don’t understand that everybody kinda knows everybody—we all live in the same world. So, just because Dave is playing for Slayer doesn’t mean he don’t listen to rap. We’re all in the same bubble, and when you meet certain guys like Dave, they’re like, “Call me when you’re making your album.” I wanted that infamous doublekick on “Angel of Death,” so I called him. But we redid “Colors” and “6 in tha Mornin’” only because, at Body Count shows, there’s always a motherfucker in the audience yelling “Colors!” [Laughs] Somebody is always wanting an Ice-T song, but we never had ’em in the setlist. So, [bassist] Vince [Price] was like, “We should remake a couple of your songs just to have ’em.” Everybody liked those two covers, so we put ’em on the album. But “6 in tha Mornin’” is a bonus track. DECIBEL : MARCH 2021 : 27
acting like there wasn’t no COVID. So, the day after Father’s Day, Coco’s dad caught it. He’s a no-masker, Harley Davidson-riding, tattooed-up guy. I was like, “Yo, Pops—this is real.” And he was like, “Come on, Ice—this is bullshit.” He was on that. But then it hit him, and by the time he went to the hospital, he had pneumonia in both lungs. Three days in, they were asking if he had a will. He started getting better, but then his lung collapsed. After about 40 days in ICU, he got released. Now he’s on oxygen indefinitely. Holy shit.
Here’s the beef Ice-T (center) and Body Count want you to survive 2020 so they can beat your ass in 2021
I don’t hate cops. I hate bullies; I hate racists; I hate people that abuse they power. Now, if you happen to wear a badge and you fall under that umbrella? Fuck you, too. “6 in tha Mornin’” was your first hit back in the ’80s, and is widely recognized as the invention of gangsta rap. All these years later, does it have a different significance for you—especially with Body Count doing it?
It’s a fun song. It’s like an adventure. And it’s rapped in a clever way, ’cause I’m saying shit backwards and stuff like that. But it’s got a #MeToo moment where I say, “Walked over to a ho, continued to speak, so we beat the bitch down in the goddamn street.” I mean, that was not okay. But in the world of Ice-T, it’s okay. We didn’t get any blowback. But I call Body Count’s music “grindhouse” because it’s so ultraviolent, you gotta find the humor in it. When you listen to “KKK Bitch,” you know that shit is funny. When you listen to “Momma’s Gotta Die Tonight,” where I’m dismembering my mother, you gotta laugh.
with the guy that’s been talking shit about you on the internet and fuck him up. [Laughs] That’s a good Ultramagnetic MCs reference, too.
Absolutely. You gotta see the video, too. It’s animated. We were just about to start shooting a video for another track when everything got shut down because of COVID. Speaking of COVID, how are you holding up on Planet Virus?
I’m holding up good. It started for me when Law & Order shut down, because I was doing that five days a week. That’s my day job. But they come in one morning and said they pulling the plug. I’m like, “Word?” For them to pull the plug at NBC/Universal, I knew it was really serious. So, I went home and we had a Body Count tour set up—30 shows in Europe, plus big shows in New York and L.A. But then tours got cancelled.
It’s like something Cannibal Corpse would do.
Exactly. A Body Count album has extremely serious songs on it, but also it has humor. On Carnivore, it’s “Thee Critical Beatdown,” where you meet up 28 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
What’d you do then?
When I’m on hiatus, we usually go out to Arizona, so we went out there. And they were
That’s just one story. I know at least eight people that died behind this shit. One of my buddies, Fred the Godson—he’s a rapper—I talked to him on a Wednesday: “Ice, I got this.” He was dead on Sunday. My man Tiny Lister just died on Friday. Ganxsta Ridd from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. died from it. Scarface from Geto Boys survived it, but it destroyed his kidney. Now he needs a transplant. So, this is what I tell people about COVID: Your theories, your beliefs and all that, I get that. But the virus itself is real. How you wanna behave around it is your business, but the virus is real. Now, it might pass through your body or it might drag you across the floor like a dishcloth. You don’t know ’til it hits you. Do you wanna take that risk? I saw the PSA you did about clinical vaccine trials for Johnson & Johnson. Tell me about that.
This thing is gonna take a minute to figure out, whether it’s vaccines or cures. People are very suspicious, you know? So, I’ve been working with Johnson & Johnson to get people involved in clinical tests. Black people especially need to ask questions and find out what’s going on. Don’t just take the damn vaccine. If you’re worried about it, go ask some questions. Get involved. This is a serious problem, a global problem. I done worked my ass off. I been shot—I been through too much shit for this thing to take me out. I’m not trying to catch it. I don’t wanna be quarantined away from my wife and my kid. I’m no anti-vaxxer, but I understand why Black folks would be suspicious, given the history of the Tuskegee experiments and everything else. It’s a problem.
Yeah, it’s a dilemma. For me to promote, “Oh, the vaccine might be shady”—that’s not helpful. I had to make a decision, so when I was talking to Johnson & Johnson, I said, “I’m not promoting a vaccine, but I’ll promote awareness.” This year has been a motherfucker. This has been the craziest year of my entire life. And now we got a president who won’t leave. This shit is just wild. It’s funny because I was in Miami with Snoop Dogg and I really thought 2020 was gonna be a great year. But it’s just been a disaster.
the
definitive stories
behind extreme music’s
definitive albums
story by
nick green
Cutting a Rope the making of Fudge Tunnel’s Hate Songs in E Minor
F
udge Tunnel’s first movement celebrates its 30th anniversary this year, but the paint still feels
very fresh. The Nottingham trio’s brand of noise rock—plenty of distortion, molten tempos and ritual abuse of instruments—has been oft-imitated, but never truly replicated since the release of Hate Songs in E Minor. The band’s contemporaries aimed to add rhythmic complexity to the canvas of noise; kindred spirits like the Jesus Lizard and Helmet probably had a longer shelf life simply because they were digestible. Whether it was an act of self-sabotage or unrecognized genius, Fudge Tunnel were committed to making music that was often unflinchingly, ruthlessly ugly. Of course, guitarist/vocalist Alex Newport, drummer Adrian Parkin and bassist David Ryley were also the ultimate ironists. This becomes indelible in the album’s liner notes, where the trio mocked the Rolling Stones by dubbing themselves “The Sphincter Triplets,” invited fans to bribe them with cash and peanut M&M’s, and skewered the early ’90s trend of impossibly long “thanks lists” with this blunt invocation: “If you expected a mention and didn’t get one, don’t worry, we probably don’t like you.” The band’s warped sense of humor is also reflected in its choice of cover material: Their chopped and screwed version of “Sunshine of Your Love” (the intended album closer) simultaneously desecrates the original and states the case for Fudge Tunnel’s arrival as a power trio in the mold of Cream. The great leap forward between Fudge Tunnel’s early EPs and Hate Songs in E Minor owes a lot to the experience of working in a proper studio with high-quality equipment and veteran personnel. According to the band, producer Colin Richardson—who had worked on soon-to-be classics from Bolt Thrower and Carcass—was essential in helping Fudge Tunnel achieve the sound they’d all heard in their heads. Growing comfort in the studio DBHOF195 also allowed for continued experimentation with Einstürzende Neubautenesque mechanical noise from power tools and pickups, audible at the beginning on “Hate Song (Version),” the tail end of “Sunshine of Your Love” and everywhere in between. Tracks like album opener “Hate Song” and “Tweezers” certainly offer Hate Songs in E Minor echoes of what was going on across the pond in the burgeoning American EARACHE grunge scene—Fudge Tunnel enjoyed This Is Spinal Tap and drop D tuning AUGUS T 20, 1991 as much as anyone else. But Hate Songs in E Minor is not grunge. It’s not hardcore, either, despite what “Soap and Water” might suggest. And it ain’t Sunshine in their sludge quite metal, a label the band rejected from the start. So, here’s the story of the Hate Songs in E Minor, an album that embodies both sides of Black Flag’s My War on every single song—a remarkable study in contradictions.
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FUDGE TUNNEL hate songs in e minor How did Fudge Tunnel end up signing with Earache? Did you feel kinship with any of the other artists on the label?
What were the early years of Fudge Tunnel like? How long did it take for the band’s sound to coalesce? ALEX NEWPORT: Any time you start a band, you need at least 12 months—and probably 18 or 24—before you really find your sound. Even if you go into it with a specific intention. Dave and I were much more into the aggressive Chicago sound—the Jesus Lizard, Big Black and bands like that. Adrian, in particular, loved all of the D.C. hardcore stuff. We all loved Dinosaur Jr, particularly the first couple of albums. Fudge Tunnel would not exist without You’re Living All Over Me. It was a huge influence. When we first started, that’s pretty much what we were trying to do. But we couldn’t play like that, and we reached a point where we wondered why we’d want to replicate the sound of another band. So, there was definitely a year of writing songs and encountering frustrations before we hit upon something that felt like “us.” From that point on, the focus was on simpler song structures and more aggressive playing. ADRIAN PARKIN: I’d given up on music before Fudge Tunnel. Dave might’ve been in the same place. We’d both kicked around in bands for years. I was 24 and Dave is a few years older than me. I couldn’t believe how young Alex was when I met with him. He was only 17. But he had some great ideas. The two of us got together and started jamming first. We auditioned a couple of bass players before Dave turned up. We were also a four-piece for a short time, with another guitarist named Mark, but that didn’t work out. We felt that a power trio lineup would work best. None of us in Fudge Tunnel were exceptional musicians. The sum was greater than the parts. That shaped the sound, as well. If you have limitations, you find ways to work within them, and hopefully something interesting comes out. DAVID RYLEY: I was the last to join. They had been rehearsing with another bass player, and I think he wanted to switch to guitar. So, they put an ad on the noticeboard at a Nottingham record shop, which I answered. After a couple rehearsals, the other guy left to do another band, leaving the three of us. At that point, there was a lot of jamming and Sonic Youth-esque noise. At some point, me and Alex realized that we actually lived just a few streets away from each other, so I went ’round to his place and checked out his record collection. As I remember, the real touchstones were Killdozer, Big Black and Black Flag. As it turned out, Adrian also had a particularly massive record collection, so we were never short on inspiration. After a few months of practicing, we started to add some more structure to the noise and actually made some songs, which we recorded and put on a demo tape. At this point, though, it still didn’t sound much like Hate Songs in E Minor.
The first two EPs were on Pigboy Records, which was run by Rob Tennant in London. We absolutely loved him, but it was a very small label with limited resources. With the recordings, we realized that we had not achieved the sound that we wanted to. Earache had the money to get us a producer and a nicer studio. We did not feel any kinship with any of the bands on Earache, and we were upfront about this. The one band that I felt some connection to was Godflesh. They were coming from this industrial/noise place that was maybe closer to what we were doing. The label head Digby Pearson explained that they were trying to expand the sound of Earache, and he wanted to sign Clutch and John Zorn. This is also when they started putting out aggressive house music records. It seemed like he listened to different kinds of music, so it was a hopeful situation.
NEWPORT:
“I never really felt like we fit on Earache with all that grindcore malarkey and dodgy American death metal.”
DAVID RYLEY RYLEY: Earache were local to us and we knew a couple of the people working there: Johnny “Jabs” Barry from the band Filler, who we’d done shows with, and Martin Nesbitt, who was a DJ at the Garage, a cool club in Nottingham back in the day. They were good people, and Earache made us an offer which would allow us to make an album the way we wanted to. Unfortunately, on the eve of our album’s release, we heard that Martin had been sacked from Earache for being too friendly with the bands. Things went downhill from there. However, Martin quickly became our manager and Jabs later became our booking agent. As for kinship with the other bands, I never really felt like we fit on Earache with all that grindcore malarkey and dodgy American death metal. But they did have some more experimental stuff in the pipeline, and I really liked Godflesh. A lot. PARKIN: In many ways, it was laziness. Earache was the path of least resistance. We wanted to put a record out, and Earache was ready with a recording budget. We all thought, “Hey, great idea!” In hindsight... not the best idea. We MARCH 2021 : 3 2 : DECIBEL
weren’t treated particularly well. We weren’t promoted. I don’t think they knew what to do with us, because we weren’t Napalm Death. We didn’t have immediate appeal for metal fans. Jabs and Martin were nice, but we never quite hit it off with Dig. Our relationship with him was always a bit adversarial, and the way we all look back on this time is probably colored by that. We did get three great albums out of the deal, so it’s hard to say whether there would’ve been a better label for us at the time. The original artwork for Hate Songs in E Minor was confiscated by the Nottingham Vice Squad during a raid of the Earache offices. What happened here? How happy were you with the revised art/packaging?
The police raided the Earache office because of some artwork on the Painkiller EP Guts of a Virgin, and grabbed anything they could find that they thought might be a bit dodgy. The original art for Hate Songs in E Minor was an illustration from a series of books called How to Kill. The author was an ex-CIA agent named John Minnery, who was probably very disturbed. The text was accompanied by some very basic, almost childlike diagrams, and we chose one illustrating how to decapitate someone. The replacement art for the album worked out well, though; we all got to see Alex’s nipple. PARKIN: I think the original design was pretty innocuous. The subject matter was intense, but the rendering was fairly childlike. I guess it made for a great story later. We played it down a little bit. We didn’t want people to think that we had truly obscene artwork. The annoying part is that Alex and Dave had spent quite a bit of time looking around to find that image, and at the last minute, we had to change the whole thing. That’s how we ended up with the distorted photo of Alex. It was a live shot, which I think was one of the first gigs we did. We wanted to get the album out, and we thought it would look cool if we treated the photo a bit. I don’t even think about what could’ve been— that is the album cover. NEWPORT: John Zorn wanted to have an image on his album cover that was as shocking as the music. He decided to fly from New York to the U.K. to hand-deliver the artwork. Of course, when he landed at Heathrow, they found the photo. They investigated him and discovered he was associated with Earache, so the Vice Squad staged a raid of the Earache office. Our artwork was on a desk that Johnny was using to lay it out. At the time, we were quite frustrated. The original artwork for Hate Songs in E Minor was a stick drawing of a violent act. It’s a stretch to call it offensive—it was silly. We didn’t have much time to replace it, so we picked a blurred live shot to throw in the frame. I don’t agree with censorship of that nature, and I don’t think that what happened was a good thing from RYLEY:
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that perspective. But looking back on it now, I’m sort of relieved with how it worked out; I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable with having an album cover depicting a violent act with the way that the world has become now. The band gained attention from the British press early on for two EPs on Vinyl Solution/Pigboy, Sex Mammoth and The Sweet Sound of Excess. How did this shape the material that would become Hate Songs in E Minor? RYLEY: I think the main thing that occurred to our songs between the EPs and the album was that we started to slow down. We’d kind of gotten hardcore out of our system. We always wrote quite slowly, but we rehearsed at least once a week and something new usually bubbled up. But then it would usually take a long time before it became a song. I guess “Boston Baby” and “Bed Crumbs” were early ones because they’re part of the first Peel Session, which happened in 1990. The writing process was pretty collaborative, as I remember, although Alex usually came up with most of the actual riffs. I was still writing some of the lyrics at this point, but I didn’t really do any after Hate Songs in E Minor, as Alex felt more comfortable singing his own words. NEWPORT: The material on the EPs was that bridge from the early sound, where we were trying to do Dinosaur Jr. I feel like those EPs were not fully realized, but you could see what we were trying to do. When we started on Hate Songs in E Minor, we felt like we knew what would work and what wouldn’t. Fudge Tunnel almost always worked as a three-piece writing unit. It was very rare that any one of us would bring an entire song in. It often started with one of us bringing in a part of a chorus. It was definitely a group effort. I seem to remember it going pretty quickly and easily. PARKIN: If you listen to Sex Mammoth, you can hear elements of what we were later on—my style of playing and Dave’s style never really changed, we just got a little more technically proficient. Moving to the second EP, we still had no idea what we were doing in the studio. We worked with Iain Burgess, and we were a bit starstruck because he’d recorded Big Black and Naked Raygun and bands like that. He was a great guy, but he wasn’t a great producer. He didn’t push us that hard; he just recorded what we put down. The sound of the second EP is a bit heavier than the first one, but not all that different. There was a much bigger sea change between the second EP and the sound of Hate Songs. It’s harder to put a finger on what changed, but we were going after something heavier and we found the right producer with Colin Richardson. That’s what gave Fudge Tunnel a sound, really.
The time to kill is never A Fudge Tunnel shirt featuring Hate Songs’ original “obscene” cover art
Hate Songs in E Minor was recorded at Sawmills Studio in Cornwall and Frontier Studios in Nottingham, then mixed at Axis Studios in Sheffield. How much time did the band spend tracking and mixing, and what do you recall from the recording process?
Colin Richardson was absolutely instrumental in shaping the sound of the album. Our frames of reference, musically, were not always things that Colin knew about—but he was open to that input. Colin’s style is straight and clear-sounding, very clean. I was always asking him if we could make things dirtier or uglier. I’d play him some Killing Joke. And he’d be like, “Oh, you want distorted vocals” and he’d crank the channels on the boards. I knew what I was looking for, but I didn’t have the words or the technique to express it. There’s a lot of reverb on the drums on Hate Songs in E Minor. The reason that came about is that I said that I wanted it to sound like Junkyard by the Birthday Party. Colin wasn’t familiar, so we played him the record and he was like, “You want it to sound like this?” That was Colin’s attempt to get that very ambient sound from the drums, which wasn’t something he would’ve necessarily gone for. Colin brought a lot of his own ideas into the sessions, as well, which I appreciated. I learned 90 percent of what I do these days from that experience.
NEWPORT:
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PARKIN: Well, I was only involved in the Sawmills side of it, and then a little bit at the end with the final mixes at Axis. We didn’t really know what we were doing, so we were very much in the hands of Colin Richardson and the engineer at Sawmills, John Cornfield. We didn’t really appreciate the lineage of Sawmills and the type of bands that recorded there and came to record there, like Oasis, Supergrass, Radiohead. It became one of the most soughtafter studios in England, partly because of its location. It was so isolated that once you were there, that was it. There was nothing to do but drink, take drugs, and write and record music. It was fun. I really enjoyed it. That was partly because we got the bass and drums laid down fairly quickly, so Dave and I got stoned and watched Chuck Norris movies. RYLEY: We were supposed to do the whole thing in about two weeks, but we ran over. We always ran over. Sawmills was fantastic. It’s completely inaccessible by road, so you get met at a jetty, where you have to load all your stuff into a very small boat—multiple Marshall cabs, drum kit, baggage—and get ferried up the river to the studio. Very isolated, no distractions. I think the actual recording was pretty straightforward, with all of us in one room playing together to get drums and bass down. Then patch up all the mistakes I would have made on bass. Then
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guitars. Then some more guitars. Then another one or two guitars, just for luck. I remember Alex getting the hang of the “dive bomb” noises on “Hate Song” with the whammy bar on his guitar. Maybe that was something that only started to happen in the studio. We did the mixing at Axis in Sheffield, which was very different, much bigger and more corporate-feeling. We probably ran over there, as well. I do remember hearing the backwards vocal effect on “Soap and Water” for the first time in that room. That was time and money well spent. Initial vinyl pressings of Hate Songs on E Minor came with a bonus 7-inch with a cover of “Cat Scratch Fever” and a song called “Joined at the Dick.” Were these considered for the album? PARKIN: That was only meant to be on a 7-inch bonus for the initial pressing of 1,000. We unfortunately agreed to hand-decorate each sleeve. We got through about 200 and looked at the rest of the pile and thought, “For Christ’s sake…” Can you imagine how difficult it is for just three of you to try and do something unique on every single? In the end, we ended up doing stuff like getting Alex’s cat to walk through paint and then step on the sleeves. We handed some piles out to friends and told them to fuck around with it and have it back to us by the end of the week. There’s an awful lot of those singles out there that may never have been touched by someone in Fudge Tunnel. NEWPORT: “Joined at the Dick” and “Cat Scratch Fever” were low-quality throwaways. We didn’t feel like people should really have to pay for that, so we were okay with the idea of having them on a separate 7-inch. They were recorded in the same sessions as the album, but in a very quick and sloppy fashion. “Cat Scratch Fever” came about because it was late at night and we were taking a break from tracking and Colin hit “record.” I always regret that the CD version and subsequent pressings of Hate Songs in E Minor include “Cat Scratch Fever,” because it ends the album on a note that was not intentional. It’s really pointless to go from one silly cover version to another. RYLEY: I can’t stand “Joined at the Dick.” It’s a throwback to the early stuff, and not a good one. I think we could have done a lot better. “Cat Scratch Fever” was definitely ironic. That’s why we had Colin Richardson play the shitty guitar solo. When we put the tracks together, we weren’t really thinking about CDs; they were still a new thing and we didn’t know how important they were about to become. We were thinking about Hate Songs in E Minor as a vinyl LP with a 7-inch freebie. It was not our decision to add “Cat Scratch Fever” to the CD, either. “Sunshine of Your Love” was also sort of meant to be ironic.
Our usual idea for covers was to take a good song and try to ruin it for everybody. So, we made it horrible. Turns out it was pretty good, too, but maybe we got lucky. It could have been just horrible. The band declined to include lyrics in the album art with the admonition “None of the lyrics on this album mean anything, so don’t waste your time.” Have you encountered any creative interpretations from fans over the years?
I sometimes have people email me and ask if they can have the lyrics. I’ll listen to the songs and try to type it out for them, only to realize that I’m not really sure what I was singing on certain songs. One of the things that we wrote about a lot was the squalor and unpleasant situations that surrounded people who grew up in the Midlands in the U.K. in the late ’80s. For me, it was more interesting to write from someone else’s perspective. This caused some issues because people would assume that I was writing about my own life; they were confused by that. It got to a point where we definitely tried to steer people’s attention away from the lyrics, because we didn’t feel like they were that integral to appreciating the music. That’s how that joke came about. RYLEY: Sadly, none that I can remember. We had to send lyrics to Toy’s Factory, though, for the Japanese releases. They always printed lyrics. So, as I remember, Alex and I “altered” a few of the lyrics before we sent them as a hilarious schoolboy prank. PARKIN: I couldn’t tell you what 99 percent of the lyrics on the album were. We thought of Alex’s voice as being the fourth instrument. We buried it deep in the mix because it wasn’t supposed to be upfront, like in a lot of other bands. When we played live, I never had Alex’s vocals in the monitor. As long as I could vaguely hear what was going on, it was good for me. I locked in with the guitar. That’s the way we wanted to sound live and that’s how we intended the records to sound, as well. I know Alex has had people ask him questions about the lyrics, but our response back then was always, “Don’t worry about it, mate— it’s not important.” It was pretty much that way from the beginning. NEWPORT:
What do you remember about the experience of shooting the “Tweezers” and “Sunshine of Your Love” videos? RYLEY: “Tweezers” was done by some friends of mine that I had lived with in London for a while. They came up to Nottingham for the weekend and filmed it on 8mm, in and around my house in Hyson Green. My backyard features heavily, as does my bathroom, with a tub stained from T-shirt printing. For “Sunshine of Your Love,” we were persuaded by the label to use an American guy who was being talked up by lots of influential and trendy people. We should have MARCH 2021 : 36 : DECIBEL
known better. He was flown over, and then slept for a long time. Turns out he hadn’t brought a camera, so we had to hire one for him. When we went scouting local locations, he was blown away by the cemetery near where we lived. We agreed to be filmed walking through it only if it was used sparingly. “Band walking through graveyard” was the crappiest, most amateur metal cliché possible. If you’ve seen the video, a lot of it is us shuffling through an admittedly very attractive graveyard. NEWPORT: “Tweezers” was very low-budget. It’s just a lot of goofing around in the video. When it came to “Sunshine of Your Love,” that was being marketed in the States and we needed a “pro” video. They sent us a bunch of treatments from various directors that were all laughable, so we decided to take a look at what our favorite bands were doing. We picked this guy named Dave Markey based on his work with Sonic Youth. He came out to Nottingham and we did the video there. It was pretty low-budget, as well. Dave was cool. I remember that I drove him around in a car and all he wanted to listen to was the Velvet Underground. PARKIN: Dave Markey was a nice enough guy, but he wasn’t interested in getting to know the band. We did tell him that we didn’t want any shots in a graveyard, so I’m not sure how we ended up with a video that was 50 percent us walking around a graveyard. We wanted to get away from the whole “metal” thing. Markey came to a gig we did in London and filmed a bit there. Then he disappeared to America, mixed up a load of stuff and sent it back. He may have tacked his visit to Nottingham onto the end of a trip. He probably only took an hour’s worth of film and added some bits that Alex taped off a TV. There was no real money to throw at these things. We weren’t a video band. How was this album received when it was released in August 1991? Did other goings-on in alternative music during “the year punk broke” lead to increased attention or scrutiny? PARKIN: It was pretty well received. Kerrang! and Sounds loved it. We never got any other press in NME or Melody Maker. Magazines like Metal Hammer were perplexed, because Fudge Tunnel was heavy, but not heavy metal. They didn’t know how to deal with it. Hate Songs in E Minor was a bit of a slow-burner, to be honest. It was well-received critically, but we didn’t have a lot of fans at that time. We weren’t immediately playing to thousands of people when the record came out. There wasn’t a big campaign accompanying it; it was just another album on Earache. I don’t recall us being particularly disappointed because we were just so chuffed to have a greatsounding album out. RYLEY: Well, it got good reviews, but we’d always had good reviews up until then. It was only once the whole grunge thing blew up that journalists
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went against us. Journos are always looking to hype the new thing, and once something has gone mainstream, it’s not cool anymore. And, of course, Earache started presenting us to press in the context of grunge, hoping to sell a few extra records. We didn’t feel part of that any more than we felt part of the grindcore scene. But, yes, we probably got a bit of attention from it. NEWPORT: At some point, marketing for Hate Songs in E Minor switched to draw parallels with Nirvana. There was actually an ad in Rolling Stone that said, “The U.K.’s answer to Nirvana!” We were so livid when we saw that. It was helpful for the label, but not for the band. Later, we’d play on the West Coast in the States and people would be like, “You’re British? I thought you were from Seattle!” That plays into our relationship with Earache, which was... tumultuous. At one point, I joked to Digby that the only reason he signed Fudge Tunnel was because we kind of sounded like Nirvana and he thought he could make a bunch of money from it. And he said, “Well, yeah.” Being compared to Nirvana is not necessarily a bad thing. My fear was always wondering what would happen if someone who liked Nirvana bought our record and ended up really disappointed. That kind of direct comparison can be really detrimental to a band. Fudge Tunnel played a handful of dates in Europe in December 1991. Was there ever a full Hate Songs in E Minor tour? What do you remember from those live shows? PARKIN: The only tour we did other than our sporadic gigs in the U.K. was 10 days in Europe, including Germany. We played mainly squats and hooked up with local bands. We also played some shows with Fugazi, the Jesus Lizard and Nomeansno. We never did full tours until we did the Sepultura dates in ’92 or ’93. NEWPORT: I don’t think we did a Hate Songs tour. It was a combination of what we had already been doing—some support slots, alternating with headline spots, back and forth. There was also a lot of confusion about touring because we started to get dates together for a Japanese tour, and then we got a call from the U.S. label with an offer to open for Nirvana and Bikini Kill. We pulled out of the Japanese tour and this poor guy doing the booking explained that he had already advanced the shows and this would bring dishonor on his family. Then Nirvana canceled the tour because Kurt [Cobain] was sick. I called the guy in Japan to see if we could get that tour going again and he was like, “No, fuck you.” We assumed we’d just go to Japan for the next album, and then we never did. It’s a huge regret for all of us that we never got to tour in Japan. RYLEY: We played as much as we could around the U.K., and did a short European tour at the
“Our relationship with Earache was… tumultuous. At one point, I joked to Digby [Pearson] that the only reason he signed Fudge Tunnel was because we kind of sounded like Nirvana and he thought he could make a bunch of money from it. And he said, ‘Well, yeah.’”
A L EX NEWPO RT end of 1991. But a lot of the venues we were playing around Europe were punk squats, so it didn’t seem that different. At that point, we weren’t exactly responsible when it came to our intake of recreational drugs and alcohol, so memories are fuzzy and the shows were chaotic. The first show we played outside the U.K. was in Leuven, Belgium, where we were presented with the usual European rider hospitality—as much booze as you want. So, we got very drunk. We were probably terrible. I played some of the show sitting in an armchair. When we got to Berlin, we thought it would be funny to start a smoke machine running about 20 minutes before we went on, and then leave it on all the way through the show. The audience couldn’t see us. We couldn’t even see our instruments. That was where we learned what it was like to be in the Sisters of Mercy. We also played a show in Lyon, where we loaded in through a hole they had knocked in the wall. There was water running down the walls and into the electrics, and we kept getting shocked. I honestly thought one of us might die. What do you make of Fudge Tunnel, particularly the material on Hate Songs in E Minor, being influential to bands that followed? RYLEY: It was a long time before I was aware that we had any sort of “legacy.” Because of the ubiquitous nature of social media these days, I hear it quite a lot. It makes me very proud to have been involved. Fudge Tunnel was never really MARCH 2021 : 38 : DECIBEL
that popular, though, which is maybe part of the attraction. We’re a bit off the beaten track. It’s nice to get into a band or an album that your friends never will. PARKIN: I just hear mistakes in my parts on Hate Songs on E Minor. I’ve never liked my playing on it, but it works and it doesn’t detract from the album. I think we got the best out of our limited recording budget within a short space of time. It’s a great album. We’re all immensely proud of it. It seems to have stood the test of time. We’re dead chuffed. Sometimes we wish people would talk about the other albums. This seems to be the one that most people know us for. But it’s probably the one that is most representative of Fudge Tunnel. NEWPORT: Most of the time, when I listen to stuff that people send me that they say was influenced by Fudge Tunnel, I’ll hear it and think, “OK, you’ve completely missed the point.” A lot of it is doomy or sludge-y music with lyrics pulled out of Dungeons & Dragons. They’ll capture the heaviness of Fudge Tunnel, but completely miss out on the ironic humor or the noisy, industrial, arty elements that we were trying to incorporate. It’s interesting to me that you could listen to Fudge Tunnel and just come out sounding like a sludge band. That’s really not what we were about at all. A problem for me is that I don’t listen to that kind of music, and I didn’t even when I was in Fudge Tunnel. Hate Songs in E Minor is a misunderstood album, but the entire career of Fudge Tunnel is completely misunderstood.
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Burning F R O M
T H E
Inside NOTHING CAN STOP SWEDEN’S AWARD-WINNING
Tribulation
FROM CHANGING—FOR THE BETTER STORY BY
JOSEPH SCHAFER • PHOTOS BY ESTER SEGARRA
December 4, 2020.
The tail end of a year that brought the world to its knees with plagues and death had one more parting shot in store for the fans of Swedish gothic metal institution Tribulation. At 8 a.m. PST, the Stockholm-based quartet posted a message to their Facebook page which began, “After 16 years of creative, expressive, artistic, and spiritual exchange and cooperation, Jonathan has decided to leave the band to pursue whatever else life has in store for him in the future.” ¶ The Jonathan in that sentence is Jonathan Hultén, one of the band’s two lead guitarists and songwriters. He’s known for his spidery melodies and almost balletic stage performance, which added to Tribulation’s mesmeric charisma. Their live show has become as iconic as the morbid neoclassical cover art—much of it also created by Hultén. ¶ “Jonathan stood out a lot to me.” says Fred Estby, drummer of Swedish death metal OGs Dismember, and Tribulation’s one-time touring sound engineer. He’s recalling their appearance at New York City’s Webster Hall as the opening band on the 2016 Decibel Magazine Tour. “He had standout stage presence. It’s very entertaining to watch him play—how can he do all that while playing guitar so well?” DECIBEL
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“They had been talked about by a lot of our friends before I had the opportunity to see them,” writes Deafheaven vocalist George Clarke via email in-between recording sessions. Clarke made it a point to catch Tribulation on their 2015 tour opening for Cannibal Corpse and Behemoth. “I was sold. They completely held their own with a presence that didn’t fit the bill and completely mystified the audience.” Deafheaven brought Tribulation on tour with them later that year. “It remains one of the best tours we’ve ever done,” Clarke offers. “There are lots of stories, but a lot of what I remember is the commitment and the fandom. Their fans are so cool and obsessive. Almost nightly would Jonathan or Adam [Zaars] be presented with a velvet-bound book of spells or tarot deck. One of the things I appreciate most about bands with high theatrics is the wildly dedicated fanbase it creates.” Tribulation’s—and Hultén’s—power manifested on record as well as live. Their last fulllength release, 2018’s Down Below, earned a rare perfect 10 review rating from this magazine (not to mention a must-read cover story by J. Bennett), and landed at the No. 2 spot on our top albums of 2018 list. They toured with heavyweight contemporaries like Pallbearer, Gaahls Wyrd and Ghost in support of that LP.
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His departure couldn’t come at a more dramatic time. Tribulation are about to release their fifth album, Where the Gloom Becomes Sound. Hultén’s decision to leave could overshadow an important gambit in Tribulation’s career. That would be a shame—Where the Gloom Becomes Sound, colloquially, fucks. It continues the streamlined and catchy direction they perfected on Down Below while reintroducing the speed and psychedelia that’s been mostly absent since their first two expeditions. But this isn’t the story of Tribulation’s end. As psychologist Tara Brach says, what we think of as the darkness of the tomb is in reality the darkness of the womb. For Tribulation, the two are one and the same. The band put death and rebirth front-and-center in their themes from the start, from their metaphysical lyrics to their vampiric aesthetic. Where the Gloom Becomes Sound is often about reincarnation, filtered through the elms of Hindu mythology. It’s no stake though the band’s heart; it’s a defibrillator to the rib cage. This is the story of Tribulation’s resurrection.
A GOD in an ALCOVE
“I’m sitting on the bed in the room that has been
my home for the past five years. It’s empty and all sound creates an echo between the walls,” Hultén writes to Decibel. He’s declined any phone interviews regarding Where the Gloom Becomes Sound and his departure, and he’s chosen his words carefully. But even manicured, his prose shows a poetic sensibility. “Earlier today I moved all my stuff to a new place, so tonight will be my last night here.” This will be his last American interview for Tribulation, also. “Tribulation has been a big part of my life since we were kids,” he continues. “It has been a sorrowful process to come to the realization that I actually want to leave, and it took a long time to accept that fact even before myself. A big part of me still does not want to go, but I also know that staying would mean to go against what my heart is telling me. And to force yourself to do something that your very being protests to—that creates an inner conflict that’s even worse to endure than the alternative of walking away from it. Even if it’s something that you love doing.” Hultén decided to exit Tribulation after Where the Gloom Becomes Sound had already been recorded with a fall 2020 release in mind, and then pushed back to January of this year. To paraphrase poet John Green, he made the call the way you fall asleep: slowly and then all at once. “There never was a particular moment that I knew,” he writes. “There was just a continuous balancing between two worlds. I hadn’t made up my mind until the very moment the words ‘I have to quit’ left my lips on a meeting we had in October. There and then it was more a matter of making a decision based on what my guts had been telling me was the right thing to do.”
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Tribulation SMALL TALK STINKS “It can be delicate, of course, but it is what it is and I’m not going to… you know.” Tribulation guitarist Adam Zaars is speaking to Decibel via Skype from his home in Stockholm. He chooses his words with precision, but often re-clarifies himself mid-sentence, and a hint of melancholy swirls in his voice. “It wasn’t a surprise for us when he said it,” Zaars recalls of the meeting where Hultén announced his departure. “It was more of an ‘OK, we hear you; that sucks, but not unexpected.’ I can’t speak for him, of course, but I think he hasn’t felt at home entirely, and I think he will be able to pursue his creative endeavors in a more satisfactory way to him by not doing it with us. And that’s hopefully a good thing for him.” Zaars and Hultén have known each other since the seventh grade. The two formed thrash metal band Hazard together with Tribulation bassist Johannes “Jonka” Andersson in 2001. The average age of the band members was 13. Hazard split into both Tribulation and trad metal revivalists Enforcer after two demos (Zaars played in both bands initially). There’s more to that story, but for now that will suffice as a summation. The point is: Tribulation have been playing together since puberty, which puts them in the company of childhood buddy bands like Enslaved and Darkthrone. It’s hard to imagine a history where Fenriz leaves Nocturno Culto after Panzerfaust. At the same time, that long-standing camaraderie might explain why Zaars, Hultén and Andersson have nothing but kind words for one another right now.
DOUBLE DARE
“There’s never a good time to quit a band, but
if he’s at the end of his road with Tribulation, that’s OK.” says Anderson via Skype, agreeing with Zaars. “He needs to be creative in a way that makes him happy.” “It’s a divorce but there are no hard feelings,” opines drummer Oscar Leander in the same Skype call. “This will be Jonathan’s last record with Tribulation—at least for now.” Interpret that dash as a pregnant pause worthy of Pinter. When Leander speaks, his grin is audible. In contrast with their bandmates, Leander and Andersson sound nearly jolly. They call during the first winter snowfall in Stockholm, and Leander says he feels a little Christmas spirit. He’s just dropped his son off at soccer practice and is kicking back with a glass of glögg, the hearty mulled wine of Sweden. “The perfect day for a nice warm beverage,” Andersson comments, then laughs. He and Leander rarely speak to the press for Tribulation, even though he’s the vocalist. This may be because neither writes songs or lyrics in
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Tribulation. Leander is the newest member of the band—Where the Gloom Becomes Sound is only his second record with Tribulation, but he and Andersson have a comfy rapport. As the engine room of the band, they almost have to. Leander has more reason to be optimistic than a stiff drink: His new record shows off his chops more than any other in his discography, and he’s just gotten over a bout of COVID-19. “Our government has been taking a… unique approach,” he says, with another Pinter pause for effect. Like America, but unlike most European countries, Sweden’s government took a hands-off approach to the coronavirus crisis. Unsurprisingly, they’ve yet to stymie the disease without a vaccine, though young people like Leander often escape the disease’s wrath. “My girlfriend had it, then I had it, but [for us] it wasn’t so bad. Just a nasty cold.” Leander’s lucky. Precautions about COVID kept Hultén at home, recording his parts separately from the rest of the band.
TERROR COUPLE
Even recording independently, Hultén and Zaars
share a classic dynamic that is somehow rare in modern metal: the twin-guitar lead team. Think Iron Maiden’s Adrian Smith and Dave Murray, or Judas Priest’s Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing. Each bringing songs to the table, playing solos on each other’s songs, gelling as a band, but retaining an unmistakable style. “Soloing is not the only part of it, but it’s the thing that characterizes a guitar player—most of the time at least. It’s the most naked expression of it,” says Zaars regarding the secret to maintaining an excellent twin-guitar team. Like Smith and Murray, they have to sound different from each other. You can instantly hear whether it’s Dave or Adrian who is playing a solo.” But like any other two-songwriter axis, keeping a twin lead team functioning requires balance. For most of Tribulation’s career, Hultén and Zaars have split the songwriting more or less evenly. “It’s our job to balance things so it’s not too much Adam and not too much Jonathan,” says Andersson, referring to himself and Leander. “We act as the filter. We figure out the drum parts as well.” “It’s easy because you’re a great drummer, too,” Leander tells Andersson. “Jonathan will come in with his own drum ideas. Sometimes they’re very interesting. Adam is a little more… loose.” “As a rule of thumb, we have been striving towards a 50/50 balance regarding the songwriting contributions on the albums, but sometimes circumstances come into play,” says Hultén, alluding to his abundance of songwriting credits on Where the Gloom Becomes Sound. He penned seven of the 10 tunes on the record. “You could say it was a practical outcome of the situation we were in.”
“I had to work when I was supposed to be writing,” Zaars explains. “Just regular stuff with family life got in the way of me being able to write more songs. I’m a super slow writer as well, so that was a part of it. Jonathan is not a slow writer. He’s a creative machine, I would say.” “Jonathan writes three songs in his sleep every night,” Andersson agrees, laughing. It’s not unheard of for one member of a twin lead team to take the songwriting lead for a moment—Dave Murray has no songwriting credits on Powerslave, for example. But after research Decibel couldn’t find many examples of a songwriter contributing the majority of an album, then exiting before touring. Which put Tribulation in the unusual position of finding an expressive lead player and writer who could vibe with Zaars and also perform Hultén’s songs live extensively for at least one album cycle. And as a tight-knit group of men who have known each other since childhood, it needed to be someone who could step into their personality dynamics easily, the way Leander did. But it can be done—continuing the Iron Maiden parallel, that band also successfully replaced one of their twin lead players. For Tribulation, finding someone to step in for Hultén was simple. “So that would make Joseph… Janick Gers,” Zaars says, then laughs.
THIRD UNCLE
Zaars refers to Tribulation’s newest member,
Joseph Tholl. Except in some ways, Tholl has always been a part of the band. He briefly played in Hazard before leaving to start his own hardcore band, Corrupted (later, Corrupt). When Hazard split into Tribulation and Enforcer, Tholl joined the latter, pairing with Zaars on guitars until 2011, and continuing on until 2019. Since then, he’s sung and played bass in throwback metallers VOJD, and last year released his first solo album, Devil’s Drum—one listen to that record proves Tholl can tap into the ravishing grimness that typifies Tribulation. “Joseph’s been in the periphery for so long; I started my first band with him when we were 13,” Zaars says, sounding hopeful for the first time since dialing in. That band, Crypt, predates Hazard. “We were in this class that met once per week where we could choose whatever we wanted, and we all chose music. Me and Joseph just stayed behind one Friday afternoon. We knew of a place that had these rehearsal rooms, so we went down there with two other guys and asked if they had a room for us. They had a beginner’s room with a drum kit, maybe a PA and nothing else—that’s where we started rehearsing. We recorded one demo and then played the equivalent to a high school prom. We recorded one more demo, but then Joseph’s mother took that cassette and recorded a radio show over it, so we don’t have it.”
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Tribulation “We were a bunch of kids that started dozens of bands and projects in different constellations,” writes Hultén. “Joseph [was] one of the guys who were involved in the most endeavors of all, and was a great songwriter and singer very early on. The stuff he did and [has] been doing since then has partially influenced Tribulation’s sound, both directly and indirectly.” According to Leander, Hultén first suggested Tholl as a replacement. “It was Jonathan who told us that Joseph should be near the top of the running,” he says. “I’ve known Joseph since we were toddlers. Our parents used to hang out,” says Andersson. “When we needed someone in Stockholm and he was available, it was the obvious choice.”
A big part of me still does not want to go, but I also know that staying would mean
TO GO AGAINST WHAT MY HEART IS TELLING ME. Jonathan Hulten
Someone who can already play dark metal with style? Someone who can already lock in with Zaars? Someone who can fit Tribulation’s close-knit ensemble? Check. Check. Check. Someone who can knock back glögg? Also check. “Spinning vinyl, cooking and drinking mulled wine are on the agenda for tonight,” Tholl writes to Decibel at the end of a cold Friday night. It’s one of his first American interviews for Tribulation, and he’s keeping his answers to-thepoint, but not pointed. “Long story short, it’s hard to say when I first heard Tribulation because I’ve seen them grow from scratch,” he writes. “They’ve always amazed me with each record they’ve put out, but the first time I heard [The] Children of the Night, my love for their music reached a new level, I think.” It was Andersson who formally invited Tholl into the fold. “Me and Johannes were hanging out at the local pub,” Tholl writes, “and he told
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me the news about Jonathan’s departure, and he asked me if I wanted to join. I was very happy about being asked into the band, and at the same time it felt really sad that Jonathan was leaving. “It’s a bit weird to step in and stand where a good friend of mine has stood for so many years now. At the same time, it’s convenient that it’s someone I know and live fairly close to ’cause he might have to teach me how to play some of those mighty melodies he’s written.”
DARK ENTRIES
Tholl contributed to Tribulation at the margins even before that barstool invitation. Last year, the band released Alive & Dead at Söda Teatern, a live album that featured a guest organist and a more intense and theatrical production than is typical. Tholl worked as a stagehand that night. Leander says the band pondered asking him to join as a touring synth player after that show, while the band was considering more lavish live shows in their future. Tholl has contributed musically to Tribulation before. He wrote the tapping guitar section in “Suspiria De Profundis,” a song from 2013’s The Formulas of Death that commonly appears in their setlists. Zaars remembers Tholl’s contribution rising serendipitously. “One morning when we were on tour with Enforcer, Joseph opened his guitar case. The strings were heavily out of tune,” Zaars says. “He shouted to me to come listen to hear how cool it sounded when he hit the strings.” Where the Gloom Becomes Sound also benefited from Tholl’s input. He and Robert Pehrsson of Death Breath own and operate Studio Humbucker in Stockholm where they assisted Tribulation in a marathon pre-production session for one particularly troublesome song. “Almost all of the parts that are in the song now were there, but I just couldn’t quite wrap it up,” says Zaars. “I asked Joseph and Robert for some help because they have their own studio and they’re always there working. So, Johannes and I went there one evening before the recording of the album and just got some new perspectives on the song. The things we did that evening didn’t actually end up in the song, but it opened up new ways of seeing it and made me able to finish it. Some of the structuring of the vocals in the chorus is actually almost as we made it that night.”
TOO MUCH 21ST CENTURY That song, “In Remembrance,” opens Where
the Gloom Becomes Sound, and it shows off the strengths of Tribulation’s latest: further indulgence in other genres, and an increased emphasis on catchiness. Andersson calls it “a bit unusual and memorable.” “It’s sort of our showing our gothic and industrial influences and saying, ‘Hey, we can do this, too,’” says Leander. He’d know.
Before Tribulation, he sat behind the kit for industrial rockers Deathstars. Where the Gloom Becomes Sound derives its title from the song “Hades ‘Pluton’” by German darkwave artist Sopor Aeternus & the Ensemble of Shadows. A canny listener can draw a straight evolutionary line from “Melancholia,” the stickysweet second song from 2015’s The Children of the Night, through the call-and-response chorus of “Subterranea” on Down Below, ending at “In Remembrance.” Each song refines and expands on the earworms of the previous, and they’re the exact kind of tunes that Tribulation are going to need to win over audiences seeing them for the first time as an opening act for bands like Ghost. “It’s been the case more recently that we’ve done [songwriting] in a more conventional way,” Zaars agrees. “In the past, I always wanted the songs to be as—not unconventional as possible, but I didn’t want it to necessarily have any structure at all, so it would be able to take new turns at any point in the song. That worked out pretty well, I think, but it’s even more difficult to write songs with fewer ingredients in a simpler kind of way.” In his estimation, pulling off these hooks is harder in recording, as well. “There’s only so many notes—you just need to pick the right ones in the right order, and then you need to execute that in a satisfactory way. It’s not the easiest thing to do.” Which isn’t to say that Tribulation have gone ‘pop’—rather, on songs like Zaars’ “Daughter of the Djinn,” ideas that might have come from the golden age of speed metal—when hooky songs were expected, if not required—take a more prominent role. These are big choruses, but they’re metal choruses. “The classic metal was always present, but, on this record, we dared! Well, maybe not dared— we decided to use it,” Andersson says, sounding excited before reining himself in. “I think our folk elements are also more prominent,” Leander says, bringing up one more extra-metallic influence on the band. “That’s always been in the music, but this time you can hear it more, I think.” That Tribulation dabble in folk should come as no surprise—Hultén released his debut folk solo album, Chants From Another Place, in mid-2020, and plans on continuing his solo career. “The acoustic side of music has been with me for as long as hard rock and metal, if not longer,” writes Hultén. “In my late teens, I wrote a lot of acoustic songs and played a couple of shows, but at the age of 18, I abruptly decided that I would concentrate exclusively on metal. A few years later, after having lived in Stockholm for a while, I realized that if I didn’t start to make the old acoustic dreams reality, I would begin to wither from within and become a very sad person.” From Leander’s perspective, Tribulation’s willingness to play outside of prescribed genre boxes is key to their appeal to him. “I wanted to join Tribulation because they were doing something
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Tribulation new,” he says. “I didn’t want to be in a band that was always staying the same.” “There’s a lot of great rock and metal coming from Sweden,” writes Tholl. “You’ll find quality bands in every corner over here. But I think that a lot of new or younger bands are a little stuck with the safety of the Swedish metal and rock tradition. Few bands dare to try new paths that can lead to something unique. Tribulation is a contemporary band that has their own sound without being stuck in the retro bubble.” In Andersson’s estimation, the balance of allure in aggression isn’t just a piece of Tribulation; it’s at the core of the band. “The music is a kind of confrontation between those elements,” he suggests. “I think that’s why a lot of classic rock guys like us—we have that more traditional element in the melody.” “Catchy, hook-laden songs with memorable melodies feel essential regardless of the style they’re in,” Deafheaven’s Clarke writes. “Tribulation having melody just makes sense. Even though [debut LP] The Horror was death metal-leaning, they’re so influenced by heavy metal. When I first heard Children of the Night, I thought about [Cradle of Filth’s] Dusk and Her Embrace. Two very different records, but both reimagine Abigail with new gothic influences.” “You have to write good songs no matter what genre you’re composing,” says Estby. “You have to have songs that speak to the people and yourself—you need to make sure you like it yourself, and you have to be hard on yourself. That’s the problem with—let’s call them filler albums, or developing albums.” He means those early albums in a band’s career that amount to testing various waters without diving in—such as Tribulation’s first two records. Dismember followed a similar path, experimenting with labyrinthine songwriting on Indecent and Obscene as well as simplified death ‘n’ roll on Massive Killing Capacity before solidifying their sound. “I don’t think they were ever meant to keep playing that type of metal,” Estby continues. “I think it was just a natural step for them, and if they’d known the way they were going, maybe they would have started out the way they sound now, as opposed to up-tempo death metal.”
PRESS EJECT and GIVE ME THE TAPE
To sculpt Zaars and Hultén’s expansive and seductive tunes into Where the Gloom Becomes Sound, Tribulation spent two months at Studio Ryssviken with their longtime sound man Jamie Elton acting as producer. Owned by Lucifer guitarist Linus Björklund (and Tholl’s bandmate in VOJD), it’s a cozy spot with a living room vibe. It’s also a far cry from Martin Ehrencrona’s Studio Cobra, where the band made their Swedish Grammy-winning Down Below.
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“It was a pretty unconventional recording session, but very smooth in its own way,” writes Hultén. Though he wrote the lion’s share of the material, he opted to record his parts from home as a precaution against COVID-19. “[We] were a bit spread out, which, of course, was good considering the circumstances. Where all our previous recording sessions had been rather intense and relatively short, this one was the longest and maybe the least tumultuous.” “This was probably the most relaxed time in the studio,” agrees Andersson. The expansive recording schedule gave the band two weeks to rehearse Zaars and Hultén’s demos before recording. It also allowed Leander to keep his drum kit erected the entire time, all the better to rerecord and refine pieces as the songs evolved. “If anything, I learned that you don’t need a super pro studio to record drums,” Leander says. “Spend the money on a good mixer!” Andersson interjects. By “good mixer,” he means Tom Dalgety, who was nominated for two Grammys—one for Best Rock Album and another For Best Rock Song thanks to his producing and songwriting role on Ghost’s Prequille. Cult of Luna’s Mangus Lindberg, who has mastered every Tribulation release since 2017, returned to put the finishing touches on Where the Gloom Becomes Sound. In his familiar hands, all of the band’s experiments still retain the band’s recognizable style, despite its fractured and extended recording sessions. “Down Below was more streamlined. This new one is grander, I think,” Andersson posits. “I said at the time that Down Below was our most majestic-sounding album. I think this one is even more majestic.”
ALL WE EVER WANTED WAS EVERYTHING “I guess we’ve broken into… not the main-
stream, but at least where people who are not necessarily into the subculture at all might at least know who we are to some extent,” says Zaars, relaying how he sees Tribulation’s place in Swedish pop culture following their Grammy win—a perspective many Americans can’t access, especially with international travel restricted. As we speak, Tribulation have announced an upcoming tour with psychedelic doomers Molasses. It will be Zaars’ first tour without Hultén by his side, and it’s unclear if the pandemic will allow it to happen at all. COVID-19 has kept Zaars indoors, but not inactive. “I always worked from home and I’m quite introverted as an individual, so my life is basically as it always is,” he says. Zaars is privileged to be one of the skilled workers able to make ends meet from the comfort of his home. A freelance graphic designer, he’s been working with Macken Brygeri, a Stockholm-based brewery where Hultén also hangs his hat.
Tribulation may open for bands like Ghost and command a larger audience in Europe, but the band isn’t Zaars’ main source of capital. “It’s always a struggle just to manage to keep it up, keep the band alive because of this, but it’s working out pretty well so far,” he says. “It’s not the most lucrative choice if you want to make an income, if you want to have a career even, but that’s not why we started doing this. I guess it’s all according to plan.” Part of that plan is interviews: Zaars has conducted 10 for this LP cycle, by his count, before this one. He recalls one conversation regarding the band’s steadfastness. “There’s been a lot of change during the years, and this person was saying that we still seem to be able to maintain some kind of integrity. ‘You can always hear that it’s Tribulation,’ he said. And that is, I think, because we’ve always done what has been comfortable to us. Not comfortable in the sense that it’s a shortcut to anything. I would never feel comfortable in releasing something that didn’t resonate with me. That’s also why we’ve done all of these musical changes during the years ... If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be comfortable in releasing what we’ve created.” “Tribulation the creature is always changing,” says Andersson matter-of-factly. “We’re calling this new version Tribulation 4.0—the fourth lineup with me and Adam.” His technological verbiage doesn’t quite gel with the band’s gothic aesthetic, but he’s got a point: Everything needs an update’ otherwise it stops working. A “band” is always a discrete group of musicians working together. They are a phenomenon that comes from a union between people, not
Tribulation the people themselves, and changing one person changes the identity of the band. Iron Maiden with Bruce Dickinson still performs “Wrathchild,” but it’s a different band than Iron Maiden with Paul Di’Anno, just as Maiden with Murray, Smith and Gers united is a different band—they all share one narrative that we call “Iron Maiden.” Which means, there’s no such things as breakups, reunions or lineup changes—in the end, every personnel shift is an update. Updates are unavoidable, but if a band works hard enough, each update can be an upgrade. Tribulation are putting in the work to make 4.0 a band that can continue their legacy without ill will and without compromising their integrity. “I think they are now in a place where they don’t have to develop their sound anymore,” says Estby, confident in the band’s future, lineup be damned. “They know—and their fans know— what they’re doing. Now they just have to continue writing great songs within the framework of their sound.” “I think they remain one of the best and most exciting bands in the last decade, and I hope to see their influence spread wide,” agrees Clarke. “If they continue to work as hard as they have, I don’t see it being an issue.” Hultén has confidence that his childhood friends and former bandmates will find the way without him. “I do trust in Tribulation’s ability to evolve and find its way forward,” he writes. “Ever since the first album, the band has been in a constant transformation process, organically finding a new form for each album cycle, both
musically, lyrically, aesthetically and performance-wise. I’m confident that Joseph’s skills as a songwriter and performer can add new fuel to the fire and continue to evolve the ever-changing entity that is Tribulation.” Which isn’t to say he won’t miss it, either— only that he’s proud of their past together and also enthusiastic for the future. “As a creator and performer, I am happy to have had the opportunity to enter this realm of imagination, create an audiovisual world and then embody it on a stage with like-minded individuals,” he says. “That alone is enough. That’s the main thing—creativity itself taking place is the accomplishment. Everything that you pour an excessive amount of your life and energy into becomes a part of you, in some strange kind of way ... Now, in hindsight, Where the Gloom Becomes Sound really feels like an ending to an era—the end of a decade, really. Strangely enough, Chants From Another Place also has a similar vibe to it, despite it being the first album. It makes me wonder what the second album will bring to the table. There is so much more to explore; I feel like I haven’t even started yet.” His former counterpart, Zaars, is feeling the urge to create as well. “I’m very pleased with [Where the Gloom Becomes Sound], but at the same time I kind of feel like I also want to just start writing a new album as well, and I guess we could,” he says. “Because of the times we’re in, who knows when we’ll be able to start playing live again. It’s super exciting to have Joseph on board, and I just want to start writing songs with him, so hopefully this can be a new start—that’s how we’re choosing to view it.”
It’s a bit weird to step in and stand where a good friend of mine has stood for so many years now. At the same time, it’s convenient that it’s someone I know and live fairly close to ’cause he might have to teach me
HOW TO PLAY SOME OF THOSE MIGHTY MELODIES HE’S WRITTEN. Joseph Tholl
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INSIDE ≥
54 BATHER No sun in this forecast 56 GRAND CADAVER NWOOSDM by OWOOSDM 56 MANY SUFFER The bitterness and bereavement 58 MOGWAI NWOOSBY: New Wave of Old-School Baby Yoda 60 POUNDER Pounding metal (and album-oriented rock)
Surprise, Motherfuckers!
MARCH
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Home Improvement kid’s Neurosis shirt
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A.J. and Meadow Soprano’s Ulver poster
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Relapse mailorder haul from Extract
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Wonder Woman 1984’s Cro-Mags shirt... FROM THE FUTURE
ALL THE NOISE THAT FITS
A bombshell mini LP from death metal young guns GATECREEPER shows how comfortable they are outside their comfort zone
I
n a world where you can tweet obscenities directly at Paul McCartney, things have become pretty casual in the An Unexpected music industry. While that’s probably for the better, it’s Reality much tougher to really dazzle anyone anymore. That’s why C LO S E D CA S K E T ACTIVITIES it’s so refreshing to see Gatecreeper put in the extra effort to release a surprise album. Adding to the surprise, An Unexpected Reality will probably be one of the best pound-for-pound releases of the new year. ¶ This is a mini-record made up of two even smaller pieces. It opens with “Starved,” which is both 64 seconds of fury and also what to expect from the rest of Side A: seven tracks that don’t even equal seven minutes. The band has written some fast stuff before, but here they are in top frenzy. Similar to Brewster’s Millions, where the protagonist has to do away with a fortune as quickly as possible, this is a bounty of death and hardcore riffs,
GATECREEPER 9
ILLUSTRATION BY MARK RUDOLPH [MARKRUDOLPH.COM]
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requiring maybe a dozen listens to take in the meteor shower that’s raining down. Frontman Chase Mason clearly wants to keep pace, expanding his range to cover shrieks, the toxic snarl of peak John Tardy and haunting gutturals of some creature a thousand times his age. This side also seems to be an attempt to recreate an atmosphere so many of us are missing: that of the chaotic and menacing live show. Listening to the middle of “Sick of Being Sober” immediately brings visions of a half-cashed Michelob Ultra flying through the air. But if the first half is a celebration of the scene, the second half, a single song called “Emptiness,” could be considered a requiem. As Black Flag famously had their own lopsided album, we can consider this a sort of My Gore Side B. Gatecreeper aren’t strangers to death/ doom, and closed their previous record with an homage, but this both goes deeper and wider. That makes it another clearinghouse of memorable riffs, as the opening is absolutely heartbreaking, the middle is either writhing or trampling over your guts, and the incredible ending could be described as some classic metal/black metal combination. Arguments over genre bloodlines aside, this whole thing cruises with the same kind of immediacy and force as the flipside. Usually, a song this length would be used to pad the running time, but it’s actually one of the most compelling things the band has ever written. Despite the focused destruction matched with an expansive weightiness, An Unexpected Reality is really just a stopgap until we see something more significant from the band, whatever that might be. And maybe some fans will be let down that there isn’t more here. But if the point was to create something that will get played over and over and over until that new thing arrives, it’s hard to imagine how Gatecreeper could have been more successful. —SHANE MEHLING
ABIOTIC
7
Ikigai
THE ARTISAN ERA
Back to the dead
Deathcore to “real” tech-death metal is not an uncommon transformation. Job for a Cowboy and the Faceless made the transition after one release each: Doom and Planetary Duality. Abiotic slowly dialed back the -core throughout their original run (2010-2016), but it took a hiatus and one last dance on 2019’s standalone single “Emerald” to go whole hog. Musically, Abiotic’s latest falls somewhere between where Job for a Cowboy would arrive on Sun Eater (“Ikigai,” “Her Opus Mangled”) and where the Faceless went on Planetary Duality 52 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
(“Smoldered,” “The Horadric Cube”). Ironically, the Floridian flayers would cut ties with their space theme on Ikigai, an album adorned with samurai committing seppuku. Not that they’re singing of warriors so much as one’s suicide serves as a metaphor for pre-death moments of clarity. Ikigai, which translates to “a reason for being,” is Abiotic’s most realized album. They break boundaries with occasional eastern instrumentation and inspired guest choices: grabbing a bassist (!) for dueling solos (Archspire’s Jared Smith in “Her Opus Mangled”) and vocals courtesy of former the Contortionist frontman Jonathan Carpenter on “Grief Eater, Tear Drinker.” Airy singing over prog-death delivers Cynic vibes (R.I.P. to Seans Malone and Reinert). Though these side quests beg to become larger missions, hopefully the tease is a harbinger of things to come. They’re in stark contrast to the frantic immediacy of “The Wrath,” with its Artisan Era-appropriate string-skipping and ridiculous blast beat mid-section. Trevor Strnad of the Black Dahlia Murder—another apparent influence— guests on “Souvenir of Skin,” which crashes with gross, gargantuan Gojira grooves. It’s as close as we get to breakdowns, even when one would fit perfectly. Still, Ikigai is both Abiotic’s least deathcore release and their label’s most... yet somehow, it makes total sense. —BRADLEY ZORGDRAGER
ALKERDEEL
5
Slonk
CONSOULING SOUNDS
A Hoover damned
The members of Belgian outfit Alkerdeel can boast of their gore-sated roots in grind bands like Leng Tch’e, Anal Torture and Headmeat, but it might be more enlightening (if that word even applies) to know that they collaborated with black noise maestro Maurice de Jong of Gnaw Their Tongues on 2014’s Dyodyo Asema, and the cover art for their 2016 punisher Lede depicts a minor devil bending desperately to get a whiff of his own flatulence. Taken together, those two facts do a pretty fair job of outlining what you should expect in Slonk, which itself has been bedecked with a vacanteyed rabbit spread over obtuse geometric patterns. Without ever deigning to present anything so obvious as a “song,” Slonk offers four unrelenting, unremarkable takes on the musical possibilities inherent in grating repetition. After the scintillating warmup at the beginning of “Vier,” much of Slonk’s runtime might as well be recordings of a finely tuned vacuum cleaner, while the machine’s operator screams grouchily over the noise at his bratty kids. It’s not clear if these songs were written or simply
jammed out in a couple impromptu recording sessions. The athleticism on display—particularly in Steven “QW” Van Cauwenbergh’s sweat-flung drumming and some of the guitars’ muffled internal monologues—is no doubt impressive, but the lack of dynamics turns most of the record to mush. The blurred punk rant of “Zop” and the icy tempest of “Trok” just don’t land any particularly interesting blows. Slonk’s not bad, but it won’t get your carpet clean either. —DANIEL LAKE
THE AMENTA
8
Revelator
DEBEMUR MORTI PRODUCTIONS
Industrialized death crew gets Bleeped
Releasing “Sere Money” as an advance teaser for the Amenta’s long-overdue fourth full-length makes absolute sense from a marketing standpoint: It’s a tenacious earworm that—at the risk of being grossly reductive—sounds a hell of a lot like Ihsahn at his most approachable. And in truth, if that approach represented the brunt of Revelator’s wares, it’d likely prove to be a more popular record in the long run while also being undoubtedly less interesting. Thankfully—though Ihsahn is the album’s most coherent frame of reference—I’d argue that Revelator’s proper spiritual antecedent is Frantic Bleep’s incomparable The Sense Apparatus, not so much in its tone, but rather by dint of the weird shapes that it constructs, the unusual whorl of its migrations and its somber-as-anold-factory meters. Like Frantic Bleep, the Amenta excel at composing melodic mirages in which they trace just outside of a passage’s proper harmonic lines, thus creating disorienting superimpositions of the familiar over the unknown. Also like Frantic Bleep, the Amenta bemuse like a stone-aged golem interposed into space-age dystopia. If the band was more disposed to simply blast its way through their compositions (as they’ve certainly had the tendency to do in the past), all of these glorious compositional malformities would’ve been easily filed down by the sheer, unnecessary bluster. Thankfully, Revelator’s pace is measured enough to allow its weirdness to go uncamouflaged and—best of all—the album manages to somehow be almost-but-not-quite hooky throughout. This is balance intentionally wound within imbalance. But of course, talking around this record is a fool’s errand. Like the taste of salt, kundalini awakening and the unconditional love of a certain editor, Revelator cannot be properly described. Revelator must be experienced. —FORREST PITTS
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RUMBLY RU MBLY THROUGH A SPEAKER THROUGH
BATHER
7
Chapel of Spools
Phantom Guilt
BY DUTCH PEARCE
SELF-RELEASED
Heavy metals in the water
A great deal of wing-spreading in extreme metal these days revolves around layering on atmospherics, layering on shades of tone, layering on sprawl. And, even acknowledging the occasional tedious contrivances and/or stumbling faceplants, it’s clear the approach has proven a rich vein for many acts, resulting in many immersive, transporting pieces of wonderful art. So, it isn’t about hating on anyone else’s ride to note this oft-glorious glut has nonetheless created essentially the perfect opening for a hungry, enterprising band such as death metal-tinged blackened sludge-doom dealers Bather—smart, skilled and progressive, sure, but also devoted to reverse-engineering multiple subgenres to their heaviest, densest, most brutal cores before setting about the process of fusion. In the wake of an admirably vicious 2019 self-titled EP, the Columbus, OH quintet has refined its attack immensely on Phantom Guilt, a record that calls to mind, carefully distills and intermingles the best elements of Crowbar, mid-era Converge, Watain, Pallbearer, a kind of crust-ified take on the more punishing Cult of Luna moments, circa-Through Silver in Blood-era Neurosis and more. The subsequent amalgamation is deftly rendered—as one might expect from a band that pulled off a pitch-perfect cover of Danzig’s tricky “Her Black Wings” earlier this year—and imbued with a unique, recognizable spirit and personality. It’s actually a bit nuts that something this sharp and wellconstructed is self-released. However, considering the insistent power of these four songs to compel multiple listens, it seems a safe bet that Bather will find their way to a reputable label sooner rather than later. —SHAWN MACOMBER
CAEDES CRUENTA
8
Of Ritual Necrophagia and Mysterious Ghoul Cults H E LT E R S K E LT E R
Greeks bearing gifts
Almost 18 years since forming, Athenian quintet Caedes Cruenta (“blood-stained” in Latin) remain loyal defenders of the classic Hellenic sound. The five leather jacket-clad, bullet-belted and big sunglasses-donning Greeks that performed on Of Ritual Necrophagia and Mysterious Ghoul Cults (the Danaans’ third full-length to date) play in dozens of other extreme metal acts such as Ithaqua, Embrace of Thorns, Walpurgia and Cult of Eibon, but none of these bands uphold the Mediterranean tradition with as much devotion 54 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
ALEMENT
CHASMDWELLER
CALIGARI
L I F E A F T E R D E AT H
Onward/The Hunter Seldom does this Speaker rumble with the bassy, sociopolitical, pessimistic crush known as stenchcore, a.k.a. crust, but whenever a crust release happens to cross over into the metal realm, it’s usually a highlight. Caligari’s latest tape from Philadelphia trio Alement proves no different. Onward/The Hunter, a compilation of demos from 2017 and 2019, respectively, counts six hard-driving, atmospheric and frequently over-the-top triumphant crust shredders. The Hunter’s three tracks boast a mightier production, as well as some highly interesting Voivodian tendencies. Further cementing the fact that there’s no better time than now to start listening to Alement.
OLD TOWER
Plague Harvest H O S P I TA L
Plague Harvest, the latest twosong tape from the modern prince of dark dungeon music, represents the Specter’s most minimal and ambient release yet under the standard Old Tower. Repetitive background noises haunt the borders of your attention while ghost ships of droning synths peek through the dense and rumbling fog. These two nearly quarter-hour rituals meet seamlessly in the middle so that Plague Harvest surrounds you completely. Expect foreboding feelings of wandering lost and cold through a subtly manipulative landscape—during a thunderstorm. The repetition works like a cursed forest loop. Wait… didn’t we just hear that melody?
VIDE
Hanging by the Bayou Light… JEMS
Who could’ve predicted this Louisianan bedroom DSBM solo act’s meteoric come-up? But the fans are right. Stripped-down, but still full and complete; disarmingly raw, but without pretense. Hanging by the Bayou Light...—named Light...—named for the anonymous artist’s grandfather, who killed himself by hanging—strikes a minor chord deep within the dark and restless night of the soul. Whether we’re talking the grungy ride of its title track or its ambitious 14-minute epic centerpiece, Vide’s debut full-length exudes precisely the kind of feral feelingover-faculty that’s always made black metal so entrancing in the first place. A testament to their own dedication and the creative impulse itself. Vide continue to astonish.
Bacterial Lotus
Bacterial Lotus is some swampy, dripping drum machine death metal grossness with a knack for melodic hooks that stick in your ears for hours afterward. The Toronto-based duo responsible for these five lengthy abominations only formed in 2019, but they haven’t taken their foot off the gas since. Already Bacterial Lotus is their sophomore full-length. If you think that’s impressive, wait until you hear it. Bacterial Lotus incites memories of Adramelech, Funerus, even fellow Canadians Tomb Mold, but ultimately shows Chasmdweller to be a band quite unlike any other in underground death metal.
VRÖRSAATH
Under Vast Dreamskies AT R O C I T Y A LTA R
How the Seer, the gifted young man behind most of Atrocity Altar’s black metal and dungeon synth releases, makes music that sounds at once refreshingly new, yet so dreamily familiar at the same time is truly mind-boggling. And all done at an alarming rate, too! More specifically, Vrörsaath’s sophomore full-length Under Vast Dreamskies is truly unbelievable. Always keeping his audience on their toes, the guitars are basically nonexistent throughout these five paeans to a past written in obscure black metal tapes. Instead, Vrörsaath puts the majestic, jubilant keyboards up front, making for one of the strangest and strongest releases in recent memory.
CEREMONIAL BLOODBATH The Tides of Blood SENTIENT RUIN
Three years ago, a band of four seasoned musicians from the Vancouver underground got together seemingly to answer the question: What would Incantation sound like played with the rage and raw power of Blasphemy? Their demo, Command Sacrifice, Sacrifice, showed us exactly what. But now, with full-length The Tides of Blood (featuring every one of their demo’s five tracks), these Canadian cavedwellers have answered comprehensively the question that no one in their right mind would’ve ever dared to ask anyway. The five new nightmares that constitute the new material make The Tides purchase-worthy, but hearing Ceremonial Bloodbath dominate what they initially dared three years ago proves to be the real reward for this likewise seasoned listener.
STONE-AGE PIONEERS’ FRESH, HOT-BLOODED SHOT TO THE VEINS OF ROCK AND ROLL
HUGO CONIM
SONNY VINCENT
BOBBY LIEBLING
JIMMY RECCA
JOÃO PEDRO VENTURA
(DAWNRIDER)
(TESTORS)
(PENTAGRAM)
(THE STOOGES)
(DAWNRIDER)
THE LIMIT
THE LIMIT
CAVEMAN LOGIC O U T A P R I L 2 0 2 1 CAVEMAN LOGIC
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and force. For all its star players, Caedes Cruenta seem almost like Greece’s black metal Olympics team. And on Of Ritual Necrophagia, they relentlessly exemplify beyond any shadow of doubt why their country is such a formidable purveyor of melodic and memorable metal. The trademarks of Greece’s particular brand of stygian sorcery are here—heavy metalinformed riffs; gothically melodic leads; inhumanly precise, but straightforward drumming; haunted church organs; a catchiness that’s somehow evil in its simplicity—but combined with early-’90s Floridian fire, and in the decidedly capable and seasoned hands of Caedes Cruenta, these various elements come together into something truly exceptional. Subtly at first, the majesty of Hellenic black metal mingles with something like Deicide’s inhuman ferocity or, at turns, Morbid Angel’s thrashing madness. Long-winded intros and all, this is a staggering gestalt of everything we worship about Greek black metal and then some. Of Ritual Necrophagia and Mysterious Ghoul Cults should appeal to just about any fan of extreme metal. —DUTCH PEARCE
CULT OF LUNA
8
The Raging River M E TA L B L A D E / RED CREEK RECORDINGS
Rapids reward program
With Neurosis in a five-year holding pattern and Isis long defunct, nobody does (sigh...) metalgaze with more intoxicating immersion than this veteran Swedish collective. That said, even the most ardent Cult of Luna stan has to admit that shit’s gotten a little... samey over the years. You’ve heard Johannes Persson’s raspy roar over downtuned chugs and martial percussion once, you’ve heard it a thousand times—probably literally, in this discography. What keeps COL so compelling after almost a quarter of a century are the experimental flourishes, be it the subtle organs on last year’s A Dawn to Fear or the frenzied chirps of Julie Christmas on 2013’s Mariner. Like the latter— which us geniuses recognized as one of the 100 best albums of the decade—The Raging River is a short (for them) form triumph: five songs in 38 minutes, again ceding the mic to an surprisingly perfect fit of a guest star, grunge grandpa Mark Lanegan (if only for one song). And his haunting, druggy aside, “Inside of a Dream,” cleaves this very good EP neatly in two: two combative songs and two contemplative. Cult of Luna are obviously a digest-the-wholemeal kind of band, but occasionally it’s nice to not have to wait 17 minutes for the holy-fuckingshit part. The remaining four tracks on The Raging River are by no means terse, ranging from 56 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
six to 13 minutes, but there’s a little less space devoted to atmospheric buildup (with the exception of appropriately titled closing dirge “Wave After Wave”). Opener “Three Bridges” is the most pugnacious, pivoting deftly from one eruption to another, and the entirety is arresting enough that future cameos remain a cherry on top, not the main selling point. —ANDREW BONAZELLI
CULTED
8
Nous
SEASON OF MIST
Intercontinental drift
Culted are a Swedish-Canadian band whose vocalist, Daniel Jansson, lives in Sweden; the rest reside in Canada. We can read much into this long-distance relationship, but, given our atomized present, maybe this counts as alienated music for alienating times. You’ll find Nous under blackened doom at the record store, but blackened doom is a feeling that’s everywhere right now. This agreeably bleak doozy is more than that. Even when the emotional tenor is wallto-wall darkness, Culted have a keen ear for dynamics. They know when to let the jam-up ferment in the slack water of fuzz, with doom growls submerged alongside low-end guitar and bass. Here, there are layers and layers of, y’know, stuff—feedback, noise—just hovering out there in the perimeter of the mix. The ear can hear them, but its attention is divided. That’s when the mind starts playing tricks on you... or is the music playing tricks on your mind? After all, what music like this endeavors to do is place the listener someplace new, send you through the black hole. That Nous is so effective is a triumph of writing and production. With yawning discordance, “One Last Smoke” sounds as though it’s trying to give the abstemious a taste of junk sickness. “Ankle Deep” is pure nastiness, nasty drone, lyrics turning to vapor and a reluctant doom rhythm nudging the song along. “Opiate the Hounds” brings in baritone acoustic guitar, a sub-freq buzz and whispers. Riffs come and go. The atmosphere is consistently haunting. An actionfree cover of Godflesh’s “Crush My Soul” closes things out. In a parallel universe, that would be name of the album. —JONATHAN HORSLEY
GRAND CADAVER
7
Madness Comes
M A J E S T I C M O U N TA I N
Swedish surprise!
The misconception that the NWOOSDM is a moneygrab is rampant. First, with Bloodbath 20 years
ago. Now, with fellow Swedes Grand Cadaver. Well, let’s dispel the money part: Between a rotting (or ripping) corpse and fishing for bottle deposits, death metal isn’t exactly renowned for being a cash-positive enterprise. Indeed, Grand Cadaver—super-formed in a garage between inebriated trips to the Systembolaget by Stefan Lagergren (ex-Treblinka/Expulsion), Alex Stjernfeldt (Novarupta/Let Them Hang), Daniel Liljekvist (ex-Katatonia), Christian Jansson (Pagandom) and Mikael Stanne (Dark Tranquillity)—is the result of nostalgic jam sessions where the membership plugged into the nostalgia they were part of in the late ’80s/early ’90s. Shit, Lagergren (a.k.a. Emetic) appeared on Tiamat’s 1990 debut, Sumerian Cry. Now that pedigree and pomp are taken care of, Grand Cadaver, between spins of Horrified and Only Shreds Remain, plug in the HM-2s, (de) composing simple, unguent death metal with spirit and shocking ease, the way it was meant to be. Distinguishing Grand Cadaver from the lot can be a bit of a challenge—the wheel is firmly stuck, so to speak—but the point isn’t to rocket into the brainy stratosphere of fucking Änglagård (OK, Theory in Practice). Instead, Grand Cadaver ply the well-soiled trails of Entombed, Dismember, Grave and Unleashed. To wit, “Fields of the Undying” could’ve appeared on Wolverine Blues right after the title track as “Wolverine Booze,” no digression needed. “Madness Comes,” “Staff of the Oppressor” and “Blood-Filled Skies” jump out of the speakers ferociously. Stanne’s growls are reverentially handled, with his trademark snarl curling up at the end of each maggot-infested word. Madness Comes is yet another dig at the ever-festering wound that is death metal. Hails to that! —CHRIS DICK
MANY SUFFER
7
The Strangest of Beasts
G R AV E L E SS S O U L S
Towards the sinister
Calvin Robertshaw crafts doom riffs that crush like tombstones falling from the heavens. The former My Dying Bride guitarist—who had a substantial role in shaping ’90s classics As the Flower Withers, Turn Loose the Swans and The Angel and the Dark River—innately understands that a tangible connection to the divine has existed in the cadence of doom ever since the church bell tolled ominously on Black Sabbath’s 1970 birthmark. Pairing our most solemn and sonically weighty subgenre with the austere, antireligious tenets of black metal remains an underexplored creative channel for most artists. Robertshaw, however, attempts fusion on the debut of
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his decade-in-gestation project, Many Suffer, and succeeds through veteran compositional acumen. Biting orthodox BM takes the predominant footing (snarling guest vocals come from Malakhim’s E and the main man behind Wallfahrer). But when Robertshaw does rely on his decorated doom lineage, the second wave signifiers have an immovable base from which to pivot. The opening title track and the album closer each act as effective examples of this fluid juxtaposition in action, while “Bring Forth Death” is pure Scandinavian spite—save for cascading mournful leads. “The Trees Die Standing,” meanwhile, gives the listener a fascinating insight into what the Peaceville Three might have sounded like as Norwegian firestarters. And the titanic tremolo flurries underpinning “To Be a God” only relent during the song’s dying embers—a slight reprieve before “Die Saat der Angst” blasts forth. Clean vocals are used sparingly, but going forward, Robertshaw could do with a Primordial-style singer—someone who can also impart emotional redemption upon the music’s rapture. —DEAN BROWN
MOGWAI
8
As the Love Continues TEMPORARY RESIDENCE
This is the (Mog) way
Post-rock has such a stringent set of rules that it becomes difficult to reinvent yourself when working in that genre, especially after a quarter-century of tensing and releasing. Mogwai have stretched out by going the soundtrack route blazed by Explosions in the Sky, knocking out five film scores between 2013 and 2020. As the Love Continues, their 10th studio album, allows the moody Scottish quartet to go back to some of the jangle rock they’re known for, while also showing off their widened palette. Honestly, even though it’s always an element of their sound, only a few tracks here feel purely post-rock—opener “To the Bin My Friend, Tonight We Vacate Earth” and “Pat Stains” chief among them. Otherwise, they use the opportunity to play around with different styles. “Ritchie Sacramento” brings in Stuart Braithwaite’s plaintive singing for a downbeat slacker anthem, “Ceiling Granny” walks the Dinosaur (Jr), and “Supposedly, We Were Nightmares” brings some welcome Krautrock flair to brighten the experience. “Midnight Flit” feels the closest to their soundtrack work, which is fitting considering Trent Reznor’s composing partner Atticus Ross guests on that one. The melancholy mood prevails. Still, it never feels repetitive; you never get lost due to similar songwriting. This is going to sound like a truism, but Mogwai avoid being boring by… not 58 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
NERVOSA, Perpetual Chaos
8
Above the remains | N A P A L M
While it’s not the strongest track on Nervosa’s fourth full-length, “Genocidal Command” is easily the most revealing— thanks to Marcel “Schmier” Schirmer’s guest spot. Destruction’s longtime bassist/vocalist does exactly what you’d expect from a thrash metal progenitor, and still comes off sounding a little thin next to Nervosa newcomer Diva Satanica, whose flair for folding non-traditional death and black metal gestures into her studied rasp leaves the singer sounding like the more badass of the two. She’s not alone in either eclecticism or length of service; in the interval since 2018’s Downfall of Mankind, founding guitarist Prika Amaral has replaced everyone in the band but herself. Thanks largely to her consistency of
being boring. They don’t feel obligated to stick to the same tricks that have served them well through their long career (except for the quirky song titles). The love will continue as long as they put out work this strong. —JEFF TREPPEL
NOSK OF THE VOID
7
Nosk of the Void SELF-RELEASED
US-BB-M
One of my ugliest truths is the immediate envy I feel whenever I encounter people who are as multi-talented as Chuck BB. The man is a hero of illustration and design, counting Marvel Comics, Telltale Games, Nickelodeon and Disney among his clients. He’s clearly funny, as you no doubt have discerned from his long running front-ofmag strip Stone Cold Lazy every month in this very publication. His work with Rick Spears on the Black Metal comic is a brilliantly rendered psychotic adventure. And now he plays fucking black metal, too? Envy boiling out of all my faceholes. Nosk of the Void appears to be a concept record dedicated to the celebrated video game Hollow Knight, so already we’re in for a deep, weird trip. “Rest Eternal” and “Born of Spiders” lure us into thinking this is going to be a pretty straight-
vision and the ongoing assistance of producer Martin Furia, Perpetual Chaos sounds way more like a solid step upward (and forward) than we could realistically expect from the product of so many personnel changes in so little time. The n00bs sure AF don’t hurt either. Satanica’s name alone leaves her with huge shoes to fill, and the established Bloodhunter vokillist does so by flaunting more range (and rage) than her respected predecessor. Like the singer, drummer Eleni Nota and bassist Mia Wallace (ex-Abbath, ex-Triumph of Death) regularly fold death-level chops into the album’s thrash metal underpinnings in a way that suggests they’re bringing guns to a knife fight. As for Amaral, her playing has never been more powerful or less tethered to anyone else’s notions about what should or can happen in a song. —ROD SMITH
ahead exercise in mid-paced black ‘n’ roll, but stranger details simmer under the surface, occasionally rising to the fore. Some of those guitar parts, for instance, feel like they’re playing their own hack ‘n’ slash platformer in the center of the mix, when they’re not assisting the keyboards in weaving that super-evil atmosphere. Clean melodic vocals surface to scramble all expectations—and they’re perfect. After the blasted fury of “Glory Within,” much of the record’s back half settles into the audio representation of a thick cemetery ground fog rolling through an eternal twilight, though “Hunger Eternal” hides some tantalizing percussive patterns and a delicate, haunted ending. In all, Nosk is a gratifyingly grimy peek into Chuck BB’s musical ambitions. —DANIEL LAKE
POUNDER
8
Breaking the World SHADOW KINGDOM
Sleeveless zebra-striped shirt sold separately
Pounder was the faux-name that members of Exhumed used to offer up when responding to inevitable “What’s your band called?” inquiries at truck stop breaks on tour. Pounder also happens to be an apropos moniker
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for a band with musical roots in the NWOBHM, Sunset Strip and early U.S. speed metal, and it’s amazing the moniker was still up for grabs when Exhumed’s Matt Harvey decided to explore his melodic metal fetish in 2016. In the same way that Harvey’s Gruesome pay homage to Death, Pounder pull a similar move with a conglomeration of early-to-mid-’80s metal in their crosshairs. Massive snare and kicks dominate the soundwave graph via a pre-Reign in Blood reverb treatment, as guitars concern themselves with stadium-sized hooks and mid-range tones, as opposed to meaty palm-muted thickness (think the six-string approach of Diamond Head as opposed to Metallica’s). Fans of W.A.S.P., Angel Witch, Exciter, Accept, Fistful of Metal, Bark at the Moon and Holy Diver will recognize Breaking the World’s intent, if not some of the riffs. “Hard City” and “Deadly Eyes” are heavy metal parking lot anthems that should have the blessing of Blackie Lawless and Ronnie James Dio’s estate, unless someone wakes up on the wrong side of the bed with lawsuits on the brain. Luckily, even legal eagles will have too good a time to care while spinning “Hard Road to Home” and “Never Forever,” which combine key-in-lock consonance, the power of positivity and Journey/ Foreigner-level choruses into a speed metal/AOR gumbo. Breaking the World is a case of heard it all before, but not being able to deny how good it is when you hear it. —KEVIN STEWART-PANKO
THE RUINS OF BEVERAST
8
The Thule Grimoires VÁ N
Magic and mayhem
Somehow, even though this is the Ruins of Beverast’s sixth LP in a 18-year career, this highly acclaimed German one-man project still feels like a fresh and vital band in the ascendant. In fact, enigmatic multi-instrumentalist Alexander von Meilenwald has spent a quarter-century at the black metal coalface, drumming with Westphalian pagans Nagelfar from their 1995 demo tape, and nurturing TROB from a murky, quirky CD-R in 2003 to the imperiously cool underground legend status that they have since attained—thanks in part to their swooningly received 2013 live debut at Roadburn. Although he’s gamely bulked out the band for live work, von Meilenwald evidently remains the only creator and musician on record, and the man’s extraordinary vision radiantly crystalizes on The Thule Grimoires. Thirteen-minute opener “Ropes Into Eden” reasserts TROB’s impeccable black metal credentials, springy pulsating chords tumbling into a tempest of jackhammering blast beats, snarling growls and jet-black droning chords, conjuring all the prime elemental forces before taking an 60 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
abrupt turn into gothic, ambient, experimental cadences. “The Tundra Shines” switches them around, ramping up the cosmic progressive doom-death before flailing frantically towards the end, the multi-tracked chanting vocals sounding not so much possessed as somehow disturbingly conversational. It’s an example of the sort of counterintuitive nuance that this band does so instinctively, like the Yoko Ono-esque wayward Eastern ululations over grooving fuzz-doom riffs in “Anchoress in Furs,” or the David Attenborough samples during the opener’s horror ambient midsection, or the weird entirety of “Mammothpolis.” “Kromlec’h Knell” is an almost accessible summation of the project’s atmospheric doomy side; “Polar Hiss Hysteria” does the same for their propulsive BM impulses, but each masterfully sequenced song is riven with eccentric melodies, arty arrangements and many sublime assertions of skewed individuality. —CHRIS CHANTLER
SAOR
8
Guardians SEASON OF MIST
Celtic thaw
Caledonian metal project Saor has been a solo outlet for Andy Marshall since changing names from Àrsaidh in 2013. Blending blackened blasts and Scottish/Celtic folk instrumentation, Marshall’s compositions regularly soar past the 10-minute mark. 2016’s Guardians is the third Saor album to be recently remixed and remastered by Season of Mist. The audio makeover provides a rejuvenating gust of wind through its widescreen epics. Saor translates to “free” in Scottish Gaelic, and Marshall holds his claymore sword aloft while embodying that motto. Although elements of Guardians sound familiar, there’s an idiosyncratic charm to Marshall’s take on melodic black metal. His husky vocals evoke Barney Greenway’s wilderness-years roar more than any blackened screech. But it’s Marshall’s strong sense of place and cultural identity that truly elevates Guardians. Marshall introduces the listener to the lush soundscapes ahead before the album is a minute deep. The pluck of clean guitars. Mild synths. The wail of distant bagpipes. And, of course, a sudden crash of heavy distortion. Picture Panopticon emerging in Glasgow instead of Kentucky’s bourbon trail. So many black metal records with similar pursuits sound like they’re chasing violins and fiddles with their blast beats. It feels more like a territorial dispute than a union. But in “The Declaration,” blasts and strings sprint side by side across mossy crags. “Autumn Rain” commits to its seasonally-appropriate gloom. Afterward, “Hearth” boasts a glow of revelry and triumph,
like warming by the fire after a frigid hunt. But Saor seamlessly blends these disparate influences. From slogging it through the mud fields to trekking through fog-kissed mountains, Guardians is a lovingly textured post-whatever metal album boasting a new polish. —SEAN FRASIER
SUFFERING HOUR
9
The Cyclic Reckoning P R O FO U N D LO R E
Outrunning eternity
There’s no other band in death metal quite like Suffering Hour—or in black metal, for that matter, because what the Colorado-based black/death trio gets up to on their sophomore album seems to blend elements of both, and somehow neither. For instance, moments of the second track, the heroic and deceptively paced “Transcending Antecedent Visions,” resembles something like Kiwi atmospheric tech-death, except played by masked Icelandic black metallers. But then what about those ricocheting counterpoints and those alien chords? Really, what is this? For one thing, The Cyclic Reckoning is a beast that soars. Opener “Strongholds of Awakening” takes less than a minute to betray itself as something not of this world. Beaming with radioactive harmonics and a shivering hi-hat trick that’s undeniably sick, the track zips overhead and immediately takes you along with it. By the time it ends, you’ll be giddy for more. The Cyclic Reckoning also broods in the realm of avant garde post-metal. At such moments, the three young Americans behind Suffering Hour—who have been playing metal together for a decade and counting—appear to have stumbled into that same shimmering darkness that those obscure French heretics were tangled up in back in 2010. But it’s the 18-minute epic closer that will ultimately outrun your comprehension. Truly, “The Foundations of Servitude” is an album in and of itself. Yet, it is intrinsically tied to The Cyclic Reckoning because it’s here, at 11-anda-half minutes into the song, that Suffering Hour’s sophomoric stunner reaches full-blown audial apotheosis. —DUTCH PEARCE
VEXING HEX
7
Haunt
W I S E B LO O D
Evoking their master
Western Christianity introduced four-part vocal harmonies to songs of adoration and prayer, so a minute and a half of opener “Hymn” is all it takes to cast a Vexing Hex. Pulled from the canon of monastic metal, its spot-on a cappella entwining verges on doo-wop, only higher in pitch—
The new super death metal group with members and ex-members from Dark Tranquillity, Katatonia, Tiamat, Novarupta and Pagandom
Old School Swedish Death Metal Debut EP out February 12th on Majestic Mountain Records
D E C I B E L : M A R C H 2 0 2 1 : 61
think the Beach Boys, or in metallic parlance, 1990s longhair choirboys Extreme. Mirth, theater, inherent musicality: The first click of this seven-cut, 35-minute 2018 debut thus announces franchise track “Revenant,” a walloping, downtuned, hanging-way-out-over-da-plate riff-bender und organ broil that layers 100 years of universal horror—Lon Chaney to Tobias Forge. “Put the coffins in upside down / Keep the restless dead in the ground / Possessed by some malevolence / Will the burial rites ensure / That the souls of the dead be pure / Lest they return as revenants?” Seven minutes evaporating like 2:53 bark “nyet,” but with far more wit from Central Illinoisans Chris and Cory Sinnott, and bassist Jeff Sutter, who then refrain together like William Castle specters, “Bury them, bury them, face toward Hell.” Go on now, say it, in Grinch-speak: Oh, the Ghost, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost! Gleefully, spook-pop—punk, rock, metal—preceded the Swedes: Roky Erickson, the Zombies, Glenn Allen Anzalone. Because straight into the 1950s hot rod surf whammy of “Planet Horror” we go here, cramping hard in passing B-52s. Family, mosh, stat. 1970s guitar-lined “Build a Wall” inserts late Argent/Blunstone into early King Crimson.
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Formerly the Haunts, the trio’s flipside to Haunt plays B-movie to its exhilarating A-side, but as pledged by grinning dB slasher Sean Frasier with this reissue on his new Wise Blood Records, a second act desperately awaits Vexing Hex. —RAOUL HERNANDEZ
WEREWOLVES
8
What a Time to Be Alive PROSTHETIC
RIPNDIP
“I don’t like you / fucking hate you / you disgust me.” This is the first goddamn thing out of the gate on Werewolves’ sophomore effort, What a Time to Be Alive. That opening line I referred to originates from the first track, “I Don’t Like You,” which is an unrelenting, unrepentant four minutes of rawpowered death metal jacked on Southern Hemisphere ennui, powered by methamphetamines, and disgusted by the current swath of sweat shorts and well-coiffed nostalgia. In fact, Werewolves eat that shit for breakfast. Formed and psycho-commandeered by power(ful) trio drummer Dave Haley (Psycroptic),
guitarist Matt Wilcock and bassist/vocalist Sam Bean (both of the Berzerker), the Melburnians ceaselessly attack track-by-track. Full listens to What a Time to Be Alive are athlete-quality exercises. The sheer intensity, energy and ruthlessness of “Sublime Wartime Voyeurism,” “Unfathomably Fucked,” “Antisocial” and box-cutter “They Will Pay With Their Own Blood” are not unlike a Rotten Sound, Assück and Red Chord orgy in a derelict basement somewhere in the black-souled, eat-’em-alive heart of the Dandenong. What a Time to Be Alive, from its horrific Mitchell Nolte (Aborted, Behemoth) cover piece to Werewolves’ ultraviolence, isn’t for the faint-prone or lily-livered. This is bona fide hardcore blasting/grinding/groove-hinting death made by social malcontents who have serious axes to grind about the deck of cards life has dealt them. What this isn’t is a quaint stroll down memory lane. Expect no HM-2 deals, Seagrave pastels—OK, maybe a few repurposed Discharge riffs—or catchy marketing slogans by didactic assholes. What a Time to Be Alive is death through and through, unapologetic and driven to kill. Bleak City Werewolves show no mercy! —CHRIS DICK
by
EUGENE S. ROBINSON
RUNNIN’ WITH
THE DEVIL E
ddie Van Halen dies, and
with him, the band that he gave his name, talent and life to. Then, endless tributes and remembrances. The funniest? When he showed up in a tank with high-powered weaponry to get some of his gear back from some nü-metal clowns he jammed with on a lark. The most surprising? The 11th hour revelation that Eddie Van Halen was Asian. Or at least 50 percent so. It was irksome that this was a posthumous disclosure, as it seems his Asian fans would have dug on knowing this. Well, them and everyone else who kind of wondered about his racial politics after he once publicly referred to Pat Smear as “[the] dark one,” but surprising. As much or more than the time I auditioned for Van Halen? See, back in the mid-’80s, everything had started to fall apart. Hardcore bands were crossing over to metal, and the ones that weren’t could finally play, so their music had started to change because, well, everyone wants to eat. 64 : MARCH 2021 : DECIBEL
Whipping Boy, as evidenced by our third record, The Third Secret of Fatima, would be no different, riding a wave of expanding musical tastes and improved musicianship. But me as the vocalist? I just wanted to eat. And then Whipping Boy’s cofounder, Steve Ballinger, who was friends with a girl who was friends with David Lee Roth, told me that Roth was quitting/getting fired. For most, this info was just a gossipy blip. For someone who wanted to eat? An opportunity. After all, Van Halen would now need a singer, and I’m a singer. The math seemed to work out in my favor. So, I put together a tape. Three Whipping Boy songs added to an a cappella version of “Runnin’ With the Devil.” This, on a cassette, with a promo pack that included shirtless photos of me live onstage, and a CV that framed me as a public relations windstorm was, undoubtedly, as good as it sounds. Having sent it in to the “secret” address I had secured from my
inside informant, I waited. This was pre-internet, pre-cell phone. Two weeks went by. Two weeks before I also started reading that Roth and Van Halen had parted ways. I had to be on the shortlist. More importantly, I couldn’t take the wait and had to call to find out. “Yeah, we got it,” said some business manager/flack. “We’re going to pass on it.” I was overjoyed. Ecstatic. It was my secret, but I was already planning the press reveal. I called Steve, who had since left Whipping Boy to be a surgeon. I couldn’t help telling him. He could appreciate the enormity of the moment I discovered they were going to pass it on. “What did they say?” “They’re going to pass it on,” I said. At this point, they had sent a letter to confirm this. “Could you read me the letter?” “Sure…” And when I got to the end, I could hear him sigh. In all likelihood? Total envy on his part. “I hate to tell you this, but…” Who knows what he said after that, but I needed a second opinion
and I waved the letter at another friend who was more hip to Hollywood slang. “Man, they say they’re going to pass on it. Not pass it on. Totally different.” Days later, they announced that they were about to make the biggest professional mistake of their entire careers outside of Van Halen III by pulling in singer Sammy Hagar, who, while great in Montrose, was just, you know, not as inspired of a choice as, well, one other singer I could think of. I mentioned this for the first time to David Grossman from Rosetta. This marks the second time I’ve brought it up. Because as sad as we all might be that Eddie Van Halen is gone, it was still mostly a “yeah, but” moment for me. But now, after reflecting on it a bit, I don’t know what’s worse: that he’s dead or that he died never having the pleasure of playing guitar while trying to ignore my naked, sweating ass on stage. Sigh. Life is a funny thing. R.I.P. Eddie. ILLUSTRATION BY ED LUCE
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