What can I say that hasn’t already been said about the goddamn mighty Darkthrone? It’s been three years since I last interviewed drummer/co-vocalistFenriz, so naturally I jumped at the chance for a second round of interrogation upon the release of Darkthrone’s sixteenth(!) album, the ridiculously awesome The Underground Resistance. I mean shit, it isn’t every day you get the chance to interview your favorite fucking band.
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I don’t know that I have a favorite band anymore; in my old age I’ve become more of a favorite album guy. But, if I was forced at gunpoint to pick a favorite band, chances are the first one that would spring to mind is Darkthrone. They’re one of the few that can do no wrong in my eyes, whether we’re talking about the twisted death metal of Soulside Journey, the genre-defining pure Norse black metal of the A Blaze in the Northern Sky/Under a Funeral Moon/Transilvanian Hunger trilogy, or their current incarnation as a black/punk/traditional heavy metal hybrid. Even Goatlord, by far the worst album in their entire catalog, has its charms. No matter what direction Darkthrone take their sound in, they do it more than competently and with plenty of attitude, and I in turn always seem to find something to enjoy in whatever they do.
To say that God Seed’s debut was one of my most anticipated albums in a long time would probably be a massive understatement. The relentlessly abrasive, highly Satanic assault of Gaahl/King ov Hell era Gorgoroth is in my humble opinion some of the best black metal ever put to tape, so needless to say I was frothing at the mouth awaiting the duo’s next move. Finally, Gaahl and King have emerged from the Norwegian wilderness with I Begin after a long, strange trip that included a protracted legal battle over the rights to the Gorgoroth name, Gaahl temporarily “quitting” the metal scene and King releasing a solid and unfairly maligned collaboration with Dimmu Borgir’s Shagrath (Ov Hell’s The Underworld Regime). But is God Seed’s first outing worth the six-year wait? In a word: absolutely.
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For nearly twenty years Norway’s Aura Noir have reigned as overlords of blackened thrash metal. The band have just released their fifth full length, the filthy and lacerating Out to Die via Indie Recordings, proving that their patented black thrash attack is as ugly and vicious as ever. I spoke with multi-instrumentalist Apollyon, whom you might also be familiar with from bands such as Cadaver, DHG and more recently Immortal, regarding Aura Noir’s latest assault and subsequent plans for world domination.
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The scene: A small auditorium, somewhere on the East Coast. A “black metal symposium” event has brought the self-styled indie intelligentsia out in droves, packing the auditorium nearly to capacity. A scrawny, effeminate man with long hair approaches the podium. The man clears his throat and begins reading from his “manifesto,” proclaiming black metal as dead and stating that his own band is the savior of the genre. Suddenly, the double doors at the back of the auditorium fly open. A corpse-painted figure strides into the room from out of the shadows, cold winter air swirling about him. The figure is Hoest, multi-instrumentalist/mastermind of Norwegian black metallers Taake. Before anyone in the room can react, Hoest is on stage, stalking the scrawny man. Hoest grabs the man by the hair, pulls a large knife out of his belt and slits the man’s throat without so much as a pause. Blood spurts and pours everywhere, covering the podium, forming a massive plasma-slick on the stage. Another man, this one a so-called journalist that’s made a career out of dabbling in heavy metal for the amusement of the indie crowd, rushes on stage to the aid of his friend. As he kneels over the convulsing body, Hoest unsheathes a spiked club that was strapped to his back, bringing it down on the journalist’s head in one fluid motion, splitting his skull nearly in half. The crowd is in shock, unsure whether this is actually happening or merely part of the show. Without a word, Hoest jumps off stage and walks out the back of the auditorium from whence he came, taking care to shut the double doors behind him. He takes a padlock and chains from his belt, effectively shackling the doors together, trapping the audience inside. He then kicks over a large drum of gasoline, allowing it to seep through the cracks underneath the auditorium doors. Hoest lights a match, watching it flicker for a second before tossing it into the pool of petrol. The screams of those trapped inside lick at the frigid night sky along with the rising flames.
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In spite of being the birthplace of the genre as we know it today (so-called “1st wave” bands notwithstanding), Norway’s icy grip on black metal has loosened considerably over the course of the last several decades. Many of the scene’s godfathers either called it a day (Emperor) or shifted their musical stylings away from black metal to varying degrees (see: Ulver’s fruit-bot trip hop, Darkthrone’s journey down the ol’ Manilla Road, Enslaved’s psychedelic Viking-prog, etc), leaving Norwegian black metal fragmented. With the next generation of Norse BM practitioners either not yet ready or perhaps not willing to step up and take their places at the dark lord’s left hand, the focus of black metal has centered on other countries such as France and the US in recent years.
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In a recent conversation about music, my wife pointed out that I tend to gravitate towards stuff that is very raw and simplistic. I believe “garagey” was the term she used. She’s absolutely right. I guess this has long been the case, but I had never really thought about it consciously until she brought it up. I mean, I’ve certainly done my fair share of writing and espousing the virtues of raw, primitive music, but I never really considered just how much my listening preferences are dominated by these characteristics.
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“When it’s cold and when it’s dark, the freezing moon can obsess you!” – Dead
By and large, live albums are unessential affairs. They typically consist of sonically inferior versions of a band’s “greatest hits,” with lame between song banter, distracting crowd noises, and more often than not, so many overdubs that the album is no longer “live” at all by the time it hits the record store shelves (or these days, the world wide thieves network, aka the internet).
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