Black Metal: Evolution of the Cult

by Dayal Patterson

  In addition to the relative silence of the band and the powerful aura created by their minimalist aesthetic, another factor that had made Darkthrone so mysterious and elusive was the fact that—aside from a one-off gig at Elm Street in 1996 organized by Satyr—Nocturno and Fenriz have not played live together as Darkthrone since way back in 1991.

  “After our Finland mini-tour in spring ’91 it was clear that we didn’t want to play with [bassist] Dag on a steady basis anymore,” Fenriz explains. “After that we went completely into the zone of black metal behavior. The ‘fuck off’ attitude and more-or-less necro lifestyle took a hold and we wanted to write more songs, not tour the album at all. It was fairly unanimous. Then Ted and Ivar moved away anyway. We actually played around twenty-plus gigs, including Blitz in Oslo and even Kafe Strofal, a squat, which no other metal band did as far as I know. I could write several books on why I don’t wish to play live now. But for one, I dreamt as a child of recording albums, not being up on stage.”

  The albums that followed the band’s return—1999’s Ravishing Grimness, 2001’s Plaguewielder, 2003’s Hate Them, and 2004’s Sardonic Wrath—took the mid-nineties Darkthrone template but broadened it, adding increasing inspiration from older thrash, punk, and crossover outfits. It would not be until 2006, however, that the band would really bite the bullet and fully commit to such influences, the result being The Cult is Alive, an album that shocked many of the band’s followers thanks to catchy numbers such as “Graveyard Slut,” “Whisky Funeral,” and “Shut Up,” whose titles alone suggested a significant shift.

  “I had already been doing some more punk stuff,” Fenriz considers. “I had done some crust riffs on Hate Them and punk vocals on Sardonic Wrath, and also in the beginning we had lots of punk influences. With The Cult we suddenly got our own studio. We should have got our own studio in ’88—we really needed that to evolve our band and we didn’t get it, so we evolved a different way. Once we had our own place we could rehearse together and it took off and there was Darkthrone in the direction we could have taken in ’88… ‘metal punk’ is a style that is always shabby, always organic, it can not be modern studio-sounding at all.”

  Far from a one-off experiment, The Cult is Alive would herald a distinctly new era, the band delving intensely into what they refer to as “metal punk” over albums such as F.O.A.D, Dark Thrones and Black Flags, Circle the Wagons and The Underground Resistance, with more emphasis on clear vocals, a gradual reduction of double bass drumming, and more punk and old-school metal overtones.

  The underground resistance: Fenriz and Nocturno Culto behind the counter of Oslo record store Neseblod Records.

  It’s interesting to note that this new era of the band coincided with—and very probably helped trigger—the reunification of black metal with the hardcore and crust punk scenes. Having sprung from the same Motörhead-indebted roots, the two movements appeared to discover one another anew in the late noughties, having been culturally and musically separated in the nineties (a far cry from the early eighties, when the two were often distinguishable only by lyrical content). Just as earlier bands such as Venom, Bathory, Hellhammer, and Mayhem took inspiration from hardcore and crust punk alongside extreme metal, so have more contemporary groups such as Japan’s Gallhammer, Canada’s Iskra, and Sweden’s Martyrdöd.

  “Back in the day the difference was not so harsh,” explains Darkthrone logo designer Tomas Lindberg—who began his career in black/death metal outfit Grotesque and went on to play in crust/hardcore acts such as Disfear and Skitsystem—in a Metal Hammer interview I conducted with him in 2012. “Even if my first band wore spikes and corpsepaint, we were still okay to say we listened to Heresy and Ripcord and whatever other hardcore bands … I’d say a major thing was when death metal became more common and was mentioned in the media, that generated a reaction in the underground and it was about being more evil and dark than anyone else… That was back to the roots, to the first Venom records, which had no politics whatsoever, but most of my crust friends, they all run round with Bathory patches on their jeans.”

  “Motörhead kind of created this sound with [the 1979 album] Overkill,” considers Fenriz, “however they were the only band that ever got known for it, bands like Warfare and English Dogs didn’t have many fans in the nineties I can tell you that, but their old albums are hot shit now. In the eighties all the bands mixed but the crowds didn’t mix very well—it was the same in the nineties. What I didn’t know was that there were punks listening to bands like Burzum ’cos it had this organic sound and not the disgusting modern sound, and they came through in the noughties; crust bands inspired by black metal. Crazy as it may seem, the two scenes had listened to each other a lot. It was damn funny when the bands had made lots of friends between black metal and crust and the crowds as usual were clueless… oh brother! People are really slow navigating round the underground.”

  The cover art to 2008’s Dark Thrones and Black Flags hints at the band’s change of tack since their early albums.

  While their earlier recordings may have offered some clues as to such inspirations, Darkthrone’s more overt embrace of these punk elements proved genuinely shocking to many. Likewise, as one of the bands with the most otherworldly images in the second wave, it was very strange for many longtime fans to see the group deconstructing its carefully created aura with candid appearances in video interviews, a less straight-faced aesthetic, and more down-to-earth lyrics (for example the biographical numbers “Metal Hiking Punks” and “I Am the Working Class”).

  “I have always deconstructed the image since the ‘blackpackers’ came,” Fenriz laughs, “and no one wanted that! Everyone wants the glamour and the glitz, no one wants to see Yul Brynner taking a shit in a cowboy movie. That’s how it’s always been, it’s just natural.”

  Similarly, the indignant wrath within the group’s music is now geared more toward elements of the metal scene as opposed to any god or religion (indeed, when your author visited Fenriz’s home he was quick to point out that—despite his anti-religious stance—he had chosen his apartment in part because of its proximity to an interesting-looking church) as the chorus to “I Am the Graves of the ’80s” from Circle the Wagons succinctly shows: “I am the graves of the ’80s / I am the risen dead / Destroy their modern metal / and bang your fucking head!”

  “If you see the anger I have, it’s in the lyrics,” explains Fenriz, “it’s what drives me, it’s total war against modern metal sounds, and that takes its toll. I’m on the barricades every day with this shit, having this constant war against the studio people, who are telling bands, ‘Come on, take the easy way, take the click drums’… [Christianity and religion] that’s like kid’s stuff, that gets you angry as a kid, that’s the ignition key. I mean those things were forced against you as a child and we thought it was super-daft and hated it to the bone. But just mulling about that when you’re older, that wouldn’t be very constructive. You can remove yourself from that so it doesn’t bother me anymore. I would be really stupid to stick my head in that bee’s nest, to seek out churches just to get annoyed,” He laughs. “Actually that would be an original black metal idea, like, ‘Say what can I do to really feel the hatred? Okay, I’ll go to a sermon!’”

  Despite these dramatic changes, Darkthrone have become such a familiar landmark in the extreme metal scene that it’s hard to imagine them ever having not been there. And while the group may have left behind what many consider to be their “true black metal” sound and ideology, Fenriz remains no less vehement in his opinions on the genre and what he sees as its decline.

  “The point is it takes a lot for me to get black metal feelings out of bands these days. Basically—and listen close, ’cos this is the most important thing—what did we do in ’91? What did we have to listen to? What was the sound we liked? It was all the bands we talked about earlier, the bands that still rule are the ones that sound like those recordings, why would it be any different? People now are shocked that I don’t want to
listen to the thousandth clone band of Emperor or Darkthrone, but I was never into that, I was only into stuff from ’91 and before that basically.

  “So,” he concludes, “if a band comes out nowadays they have to give me the black metal feeling and what gives me the black feeling? Something that sounds like it could have been released ’81 to ’91—so a Norwegian band that I like is Faustcoven, but does it have anything to do with what people now call ‘Norwegian black metal’? I don’t think so… sad story huh? But it makes total sense and is also damn true. When [new black metal bands] do it, how copied is it? How much did we copy? Are they keeping a tradition alive? I’m feeling that they are just taking snapshots of what we assembled. They can do good snapshots with the really organic sound, but we know if it stemmed from something real and we usually doubt, even if that’s not fair, that there is the realness, the glint of the milkman’s eyes that started it all.”

  22

  BURZUM

  “Filosofem is a perfect album, it doesn’t even need any words as it’s so perfect it’s beyond belief. You can’t believe that a human being has been capable of carving that out of nothing, it’s amazing.”

  —Niklas Kvarforth (Shining)

  AS A ONE-MAN PROJECT—perhaps the most famous within the metal world—the story of Burzum is intrinsically linked to that of its creator, Varg Vikernes. Since we have already examined the impact his presence and actions had upon the Norwegian black metal scene, there is probably no need to delve further into the events that led to his lengthy imprisonment. In fact, the point that needs to be highlighted is that while his crimes and controversial opinions are certainly responsible for a large part of his fame, on artistic merit alone he would be considered one of the genre’s most significant and influential artists.

  Born in Bergen under the name Kristian, Varg’s early teens were characterized by a fascination with role-playing games, warfare, and metal music. Along with this came a focus on race and nationality, which began during his childhood in Iraq, where his father was working for Saddam Hussein—a figure he actually hails in early Burzum interviews (Hussein, that is; Varg’s father seems to have become a somewhat distant figure after his parents divorced when he was twelve). According to Varg’s homepage, he first began making music in a metal trio named Kalashnikov (after the Russian assault rifle) and later renamed Uruk-Hai, after the toughest orcs in J.R.R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings.

  No recordings appear to have been made by this outfit, and soon Varg became a part of Old Funeral (joining just before Olve “Abbath” Eikemo and Harald “Demonaz” Nævdal departed to form Immortal), playing guitar on the 1991 EP Devoured Carcass. As the black metal revolution overtook Norway, Old Funeral would gradually splinter into new groups, and in Varg’s case this led to him working on his solo project Burzum, the name once again from Lord of the Rings (it means “darkness” in the Black Speech of Mordor).

  Vikernes then underwent an almost unbelievably productive period of writing, crafting a huge library of songs that would furnish a spree of future releases. Writing alone, Varg’s compositions were defined by his use of hypnotic repetition, catchy yet melancholic riffs, simple yet perfectly suited drum and guitar work, and his uniquely tortured screams. With no input from other musicians, it was presumably his own listening tastes that dictated the Burzum sound: certainly Varg was always open in his passion for Bathory and VON, with early fanzine interviews also namechecking Mayhem and Thorns. Later autobiographical writings also cite the first Paradise Lost demo, Destruction and Celtic Frost, Dutch death metallers Pestilence, and some “underground house/techno” recordings. In an interview in 2010 for Metal Hammer, he also told me that he now believed Iron Maiden and the first two Kreator albums had the most impact on him, with Destruction’s solos on Infernal Overkill specifically inspiring him to make his riffs “solo-like,” and Bathory inspiring his drumming to be simple and “drum machine-like.”

  An early Burzum promo photo of Varg Vikernes, captured in his Count Grishnackh persona.

  His entrance into the Oslo scene led to Euronymous signing Burzum after two 1991 demo tapes, releasing the self-titled debut album on Deathlike Silence in 1992, the first black metal release on the label. As with Old Funeral, Varg recorded in Bergen at Grieghallen with producer Eirik “Pytten” Hundvin (a relationship that would prove enduring), with his friends Demonaz and Euronymous present, the latter providing a guitar solo on the short and Bathory-esque “War.” The album would prove as essential in cementing the second wave template as Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism by Varg’s friends and ex-bandmates Immortal, and Darkthrone’s similarly monochromatic A Blaze in the Northern Sky. The epic yet bleak atmosphere was all-encompassing, the songs embodying a duality: a sense of calming catharsis alongside an oppressive, claustrophobic overtone.

  For a time, Varg—now better known as Count Grishnackh (Grishnákh being a particularly malevolent orc from Lord of the Rings)—sought to turn Burzum into a full band, and invited in drummer Erik Lancelot (later of Ulver) and Emperor’s Tomas “Samoth” Haugen on bass. The latter would appear on the iconic Aske EP (notoriously featuring the burnt remains of Fantoft Church and packaged with a lighter featuring the same image), but Varg would quickly return the band to a solo effort, having lost interest in the prospect of playing live.

  A cassette featuring early mixes of Burzum’s debut album (minus the ambient tracks) sent to Euronymous, who was releasing the record. Recorded over Metallica’s Kill ‘Em All, it features Varg’s handwriting and was rescued from Euronymous’ apartment following his death.

  Aske would be released in 1993 on Varg’s own Cymophane label, due to the collapse of his friendship with Euronymous, as would the second full-length Det Som Engang Var (“What Once Was”), though both were actually recorded in 1992. Since this material was written around the same time as the debut, it’s unsurprising that it bears many similarities, though the experience in the studio seems to have given the songs greater depth and more intricate textures. The basic approach remained largely unchanged, however, and as before Varg sought to distance himself from the precision playing and equipment he associated with death metal, instead using whatever tools he happened to have access to. Tone and feel were prioritized above technical details, an approach that served as a defining quality of black metal in general.

  “We were searching around trying to find different sounds on different amps and speakers to get this cold and narrow sound, which we have on at least the first three Burzum albums,” recalls Pytten. “We used very traditional drum recording techniques but if you want to produce a good, traditional rock ‘n’ roll drum sound you would need a good rock ‘n’ roll drum kit—and these guys never had a good drum kit. But if you take an unskilled musician and put them on a instrument or amp that they don’t know, you won’t get a better result… because if you don’t know [an instrument] you can’t express yourself on it… You also don’t produce an [intentionally] ugly sound with really high-class equipment, you use a speaker which is not completely as it should be.”

  Initially distributed by Voices of Wonder, Varg was soon handed back their stock of records when the label decided they wished to cut ties with this increasingly contentious character as quickly as possible. Left without distribution and now in jail for a lengthy murder sentence, Varg initially sought help from Metalion, who sold some records as a favor but felt that Head Not Found was not properly equipped to handle Burzum. Earache Records had at one point courted Varg, but were put off by comments they felt were explicitly racist. For the same reason, Candlelight decided not to sign him, since they feared a boycott might lead to them losing distribution for all their artists.

  The solution came from England and Tiziana Stupia, a Burzum fan who set up the Misanthropy Records label in order to give Varg the distribution he was unable to find elsewhere. Despite this, the label later voiced complaints (in particular via a compilation aptly titled Presumed Guilty) about artists on their label losing distribution from Rough Trade
for this very reason—though there’s little doubt that the notoriety and huge success of Burzum also helped the label expand their roster considerably.

  1994’s Hvis Lyset Tar Oss (“If the Light Takes Us”) became the first album to be released through Cymophone and Misanthropy. Remarkably, this album had also been recorded in 1992, just a few short months after Det Som and a mere month after Aske. Despite this, a notable stylistic leap had taken place, the record boasting four lengthy numbers that resonate with a greater emotional scope than its predecessors, bearing a distinctly yearning atmosphere and an expansive, heavily synth-laden sound. Epic, bleak, and built around the huge trademark riffs, the album is again peaceful at times, while also presenting Burzum at its most discordant and abrasive; it is rightly considered a milestone in black metal.

  The next release would be the final one in the first chapter of the project’s history and arguably its finest effort, taking the genre to even more transcendental levels. Recorded back in 1993 but not released until three years later, Filosofem opens with the unbelievably atmospheric and immersive “Dunkelheit.” With a title that translates as “darkness” (the song’s “real name,” Varg has explained, is “Burzum,” but all titles were in German for the initial release), it was reportedly written back in 1991, and was apparently the first real song Varg wrote for Burzum. With a hypnotic riff, a ridiculously simple yet perfect synth accompaniment and mantra-like lyrics, the track is the closest Burzum have yet come to a single, and was even given its own promo video. The more ferocious and relentless “Jesu Død” is another highlight, as is a dark yet strangely soothing twenty-five-minute ambient number whose title translates as “Circumambulation of the Transcendental Pillar of Singularity.”