Again, I felt this the best place for this story. Would love to see feedback on this and see what develops…
The Devil always had the best tunes.
Or at least the illusion of the guy did. The Rolling Stones showed him sympathy. Led Zep, Blue Öyster Cult, Kiss and Black Sabbath all delved into the occult, witchcraft and other things not conducive to Judeo-Christian beliefs, even if their interests in said sundries could be chalked up to media hype, naiveté, or a simple interest in the dark side.
This was only the beginning. The time-line stretches to the likes of Mercyful Fate, Venom and Bathory, early '80s bands that reveled in all things dark; to Slayer, whose early work was influenced by horror movies more than true evil; and eventually the rising Death Metal scene in Florida featuring groups like Morbid Angel and Deicide (literally, “The death of God”), that practiced self-mutilation and alluded to animal sacrifice in interviews.
While these bands took the thrashy sounds of it’s predecessors and made it more guttural with increasingly blasphemous subject matter, nothing, not even Deicide leader Glenn Benton’s ritualized burning of an upside-down crucifix into his forehead, prepares us for the Scandinavian Black Metal scene that erupted from Norway in the early '90s. This scene, very well documented in last year’s Lords of Chaos (Feral House Books, by Michael Moynihan and Didrik Søderlind), is rife with stories of church burnings and ritualized murders of foes and friends alike. These acts were played out to a soundtrack of brutal, simplistic walls of guitar haze, blasted percussion and undecipherable screaming as vocals.
The Triangle and surrounding area boast a surprisingly potent Black and Death Metal scene. It’s epicenter, The Caboose in Garner.
Raleigh band Sorrow Bequest held court one night. The five-piece goes over the top with its instrumentation alone, employing three guitars and two vocalists. Any fan of extreme music would find Sorrow Bequest intriguing with its complex songwriting owing to Iron Maiden’s technical ecstasy, only with a much more sinister vibe.
After the show, an impromptu party gathers. Guthrie Iddings, formerly “The Death Dealer” on WKNC’s Friday institution “Chainsaw Rock,” is the host in a shell of a house owned by his parents. Inside are nothing but four walls, a stone chimney, and the roof. Lit candles, empty beer bottles and countless cigarette butts are strewn around. Sitting around a battery operated CD player cranking out an inhuman roar of some band from Germany are a slew of the Raleigh underground metal community.
While the setting is unusual - almost spiritual - the attendees look and act no different than any longhaired rock fans do after a concert: Everyone is drinking and/or smoking pot. While most of the folks have CDs made by arsonists and murderers on their own collections by bands such as Dark Throne, Burzum, Mayhem and Emperor, you don’t sense that this group is going to burn anything unless someone gets careless with a Marlboro.
“Black Metal is just one of the many genres of metal that I listen to,” explains Iddings between tokes on a joint. “It appeals to me on more of a musical level than a satanic level. The bands that are good really create an amazing atmosphere that can’t be found anyplace else.”
Joshua Pantke, bassist for Sorrow Bequest, nods in approval. “Our spirituality is completely the antithesis of spirituality. It’s looking at things with logic, thinking them through, and if you can’t find the answers yourself, unprovable ancient texts are not going to know any better.”
As far as North Carolina Black Metal bands and fans go, atmosphere is the buzzword, not spirituality. Lucritia, the current host of “Chainsaw Rock”, nicely sums up most of the local attitudes by offering that “You can support the art without supporting the artist. I don’t support burning any sort of building, be it a church or be it an outhouse! Just because Dead from Mayhem shot himself in the head and the guys (in the band) made necklaces from his skull fragments doesn’t mean I advocate suicide or… necklace wearing!”
When Gutherie states that, “Satanism in its pure cultic form disgusts me as much as Christianity,” you believe him. “I avoid the worshipping of otherworldly fictional beings,” he continues, “but I support a person trying to find something that’s not really out there, and I think Black Metal really asks that question.”
This may be the prevailing ideology for most, but there are twists. Some devotees of Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible claim that it is about self-empowerment and improvement without the worship of any deities. Bill Wenz, vocalist of Wilson’s Goddammed, fits into this category.
“I myself have been into Satanism for almost ten years,” he proudly states. “I look at is as Naturalism, basically going by one’s own feelings on how to live life and the choices that you make. Christ puts so many restrictions on what you can do, and there’s no need for that. Go by how you feel, let nature take its path. Satanism for me is not a being, but nature itself.”
As you go farther West, however, the spiritual landscape changes. Right outside of Gastonia, NC is headquarters for khaosad.com , a radio show which in the two years since coming on air has morphed from a low-power FM signal to short-wave to it’s current internet broadcasting.
Everything seems normal enough. The couple has several children running around, one of them giving periodical updates on the amount of kittens their cat was in the process of delivering. They prefer to only be known as Voice of Doom and Kasandra, as Gastonia is not the most open-minded habitat.
Especially since aside from playing Death and Black Metal from their basement five days a week, Kasandra is a witch.
“I practice witchcraft,” she says matter-of-factly, "but I’m not a Satanist… Not exactly. I believe some of it, like LeVay’s attitude about believing in yourself and making yourself the God. But that’s really different than what a lot of the Black metal bands believe in. They believe in Satan, the real Satan. I don’t sit there with my black candles worshiping the devil, but I do magic, so I can see where they’re coming from.
“Each person does what he or she feels they have to do,” she continues. “I talk to a lot of guys in Norway, and they go into the burned-out churches and have ceremonies with big torches at night and they do their music. And I think it’s really great because it gives them the spirit into their music.”
Though her husband is not into any spiritual beliefs, both feel (and possibly fear) the Christians who make up what he calls their “Buckle of the Bible belt town.”
“I don’t find Christians to be very tolerant,” he says. “It’s either their way or no way. They’d probably take people like you and me out and hang us if they thought they could get away with it.”
Kasandra recalls a trip to "the post office (while) wearing a Marilyn Manson tee shirt. This woman comes up to me and she’s like, ‘You do know that Jesus Christ loves you, and he’s coming back for you,’ all in my face. I started to walk away, and she grabbed my arm! I said, ‘If you don’t get your hands off me, I will pluck out your eyeballs and eat them right here!’
“So she started backing up really quickly,” she laughs.
Even taking witchery into consideration, the couple still comes off as normal. He stopped doing the shows on weekends because he liked to go camping. She will occasionally host the show because he has to take the kids to a Cub Scout or attend a PTA meeting. It’s a lot closer to Ozzie and Harriet than Ozzy Osbourne.
Right down the road, however, is the Charlotte home of Darkmoon. One of the few American Black Metal bands to sign to the powerful Music for Nations label (the band’s debut is released May 8), Darkmoon is chaotic, maniacal, furious music which starts as a gale force and never lets up. If Black Metal conjures up cold emotions, Darkmoon is a blinding
