Black Metal: Evolution of the Cult

by Dayal Patterson

  Grand Declaration takes the listener on a journey through what appears to be a cataclysmic final conflict and its aftermath, and though it features much of the furious aggression of the band’s earlier efforts, it is also far more dense, technical, and less straightforward than De Mysteriis or even Wolf’s Lair Abyss, packing every song with angular guitar lines, heavy detail, and precise rhythm work. Even more notable is the use of programming and electronics, these coming to the fore following the nuclear Armageddon that segues Part Two into Part Three.

  Making use of guest appearances by Ulver programmer Tore Ylwizaker, Øyvind Hægeland, the vocalist of progressive metal outfit Spiral Architect, and co-writer Anders Odden of Cadaver and Apoptygma Berzerk, it was these tracks in particular that polarized listeners. While many critics applauded the record for its forward-thinking nature, for other fans it was a vindication of earlier suspicions regarding the band’s return, with some feeling that the band had moved too far from their core sound. Indeed, when asked in Crypt whether he felt he was being restricted creatively by the conservatism of certain Mayhem fans, Blasphemer replied, “Yes! Not many people ask me that but it’s the fucking ugly truth. People still continue to surprise me in their pitifulness and absolute ignorance. I have felt the ties of the masses for sure but I can’t allow myself to be tied.”

  “People fucking hated it, they said we had turned into a shit band,” recalls Necrobutcher with a laugh. “They said, ‘This doesn’t sound like black metal should sound,’ shit like that. But years later it seems people love that album and I really fucking appreciate it myself.”

  “It got ‘album of the month’ in Terrorizer, but the German press didn’t really like it so much,” recalls Blasphemer. “The more conservative [listeners] weren’t that happy about it. But I never cared that much, you can’t pay too much attention. You don’t play in a band to please people, you do what you do and you do it all the way—if you have a vision see it through, end of story…. But it was in the air, there was so much experimentation going on so sooner or later I think that had to happen…. Actually later a German guy wrote fifty or sixty pages on one song … it was [an academic paper] teaching techniques and stuff. It was heavy reading, I don’t think I got all the way to the end, but it was very cool, like a recognition outside of what a black metal album could do, a small victory.”

  Maniac on the cover of Terrorizer in 2004, circa Chimera.

  While the impressive and complex musicianship proved a defining factor of the album, the songs also placed particular emphasis on Maniac, his distinctive screams now coupled with clearer vocal declarations, which often acted to push the heavily Nietzschean narrative forward. Written entirely by the vocalist, the lyrics were as in-depth and uncompromising as the music, the result of an intense partnership between the two men.

  “It was an honor to work with him,” says Blasphemer. “He is a tremendous artist with some very clever ideas and it was mainly his ideas, but also something we shaped together to a certain extent. If you pay attention to the album, it’s very thorough and thought-through, the music follows the lyrics and the lyrics follow the music very well on that album.”

  “That record was really hard to record as Blasphemer pushed me very hard in all kinds of directions,” recalls Maniac. “He knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. It’s part of his genius I suppose. The album is like surgery both musically and lyrically. I would say that there is not an ounce of spirituality; the lyrics deal with the end of this world and the beginning of another, but only through scientific destruction and harsh scientific reality. It is very inspired by Nietzsche, although in retrospect I think that Nietzsche was rather spiritual, so I think what I took from him was suited to my approach on how I perceived the world. I am proud of this album but I could never repeat it and my worldview is very, very different now. I have become a Satanist, but one far removed from the Church of Satan or the popular view of Satanism. I am on my way home to the brilliant darkness.”

  The authoritarian nature of the record’s lyrics, which frequently rallied against peace, weakness, and stagnation, was mirrored by a wider exploration of totalitarian imagery and themes during this period. Hellhammer had already raised eyebrows due to a number of choice comments on the subject of race and an apparent fondness for swastikas, but the band as a whole had also been provoking the public’s sensibilities since Wolf’s Lair Abyss (the Wolf’s Lair famously being Hitler’s military headquarters), making use of the SS Totenkopf (skull and crossbones) and other historic Nazi imagery on merchandise.

  “From the start when we called ourselves Mayhem it was about exploring the dark side of everything, negativity, developing into war, torture, crimes against humanity,” explains Necrobutcher. “So when you put all these bad things together with bad psychological thinking and then you use symbols like the upside down crosses in the logo, to go a step further would be swastikas and stuff like that. Not swastikas, but stuff in that vein like the Totenkopf, a lot of bands used that. The path of exploring the darkness doesn’t necessarily make us into Nazis. Or Satanists; none of us [current members] are interested in any type of religion.”

  “None of us is politically active at all,” he continues, “except Euronymous who was a member of this Communist party—to support that would cost like ten pounds a year and you would get the magazine—but other than that we have never been interested in any political movement or party. [Maniac] was more interested in that way, but not active in any party or anything like that. Also Hellhammer had a fascination with old Nazi uniforms, stuff from the Second World War, this kind of stuff.”

  “I never had any say on those things, it was not my decision,” says Blasphemer, whose provocative side project Mezzerschmitt—also featuring Hellhammer—would attract similar controversy. “The ideas usually came from one particular place and it was not something I endorsed I can say. I don’t know if it was that serious even, or whether it was to pull someone’s leg. But I don’t recall being totally uncomfortable with anything; we always said the band was four different individuals with four totally different understandings of the world and politics. I’ve always been very lacking in politics, my interest was always the music so I guess you can draw your conclusions from that.”

  Despite the album’s technological leanings, the band were happy to play the material live, and Grand Declaration was followed by a slew of live releases and a touring cycle that would push the band to the limits both as individuals and as a unit. In the midst of this came 2004’s Chimera, whose title, Blasphemer explained to Crypt, was chosen to convey that “the world, its content and all common understanding is nothing but an illusion.” Musically it was once again a change of tack, maintaining the complexities and stop/start structuring of its predecessor but proving a far more aggressive, traditional black metal record. Maniac’s vocals also proved unusually guttural, a far cry from the spirited eloquence of the previous album.

  “I kind of felt to take it further in that vein would be strange, perhaps awkward, and wanted to go more straightforward,” explains Blasphemer, “so that was my attempt to write something straight ahead. I was also totally screwed up at that point, and I think that’s why the album came out like that, I think every album sort of reflects the certain mental state you are in.”

  “Too much alcohol, too much drugs, fucked up at the rehearsals, the whole Mayhem machinery was going, it was crazy times,” relates Necrobutcher of the period. “Today I would say some good songs came out of that album, like ‘My Death.’ But we should have worked completely differently. I wish that we could have lived in the rehearsal place for, like, half a year more before going into the studio, personally.”

  Narcotics were not entirely new to Mayhem—indeed, as Kvikksølvguttene the members had famously created a pentagram out of twelve grams of cocaine for their sleeve art—but by now drugs and general excess were threatening to pull the band apart, their live performances suffering as a result. Maniac was now visibly inebriated during
many shows, something that caused arguments and even physical conflict between him and Blasphemer (who apparently kicked the singer down a flight of stairs), himself in the midst of something of a chemical haze.

  “It was a pretty harsh period, but a necessary thing,” reflects Blasphemer. “It was mostly me, but I wrote all the music anyway. I didn’t use them as an inspiration really, just to get fucked up—if I had cash, it was constant. Grand Declaration was very well-received and I was feeling things were going very smooth and so it was very easy to go all the way. It prevents you from thinking, you just go for it. I remember I overdosed two times in the same day with amphetamines, so it was just a very unhealthy thing, always alcohol every occasion, every interview, all the time, even recording. I felt it was more important to be out partying and doing fucked up things, I could not focus. I was not happy with anything and I wanted to be numb. The band at this time also began to get a bit fractured and it was not the best relationship, at times it began to feel like a burden…. I wanted for us to be a really good live band but you know it was Maniac who was out at that time and that was his last tour. It was on the cards really, he didn’t enjoy being on stage and it was obvious to everyone.”

  “Today I would say I was kicked out,” clarifies Maniac, “and I understand why. [Blasphemer] is a musical genius whilst I am a mere musical laboratory accident. He knew where, and how, to guide me, but in the end my alcohol abuse was too much even for him. I think he was patient with me for much longer than…” he cuts off the sentence knowingly.

  “It was too much of everything,” admits Necrobutcher, “and you can’t bring that on tour. We started to come out of the fog, the other people in the band, because we wanted to give the fans good shows and things like that and he just fucked up again and again and again. He was too drunk onstage all the time, forgot all the lyrics, sang in the wrong places. So after he fucked up the world tour we said, ‘We can’t carry on.’… From ’97 to about 2006 I would say we were full-throttle, maximum liquor, drugs, craziness on tours; the last few years we kind of toned down this self-destructive thing. There’s a progression when you wake up after being drunk for too many years, it’s good to be awake.”

  After departing the band, Maniac would go on to form Skitliv, an impressive outfit blending doom and black metal with electronic elements. Mayhem meanwhile would once again look to their past in search of a replacement, just as they had done after the band’s collapse in 1993. While Attila had been inactive for some years following the aftermath of De Mysteriis, he was now fronting Italian cyber black metal outfit Aborym, and having earned a reputation as something of a black metal legend, was also guesting with a wide range of bands such as Anaal Nathrakh, Keep of Kalessin, and drone act Sunn O))). It wasn’t long before he was rejoining the group that had helped to make his name.

  From the dark past: Attila returns to Mayhem. Terrorizer, 2004

  “First of all I’d like to say I appreciate what Maniac did for the band during the ten years he was on the job and I take my hat off for that,” begins Necrobutcher, “but I can only speculate what would have happened if I called Attila in ’93. It’s a funny story; Euronymous, when he took Attila to Oslo to record, it was important to him that we didn’t meet ’cos that would blow his plan to do this thing without me. Attila was looking for something to smoke desperately and at that time basically you could call me about [obtaining] stuff like that. When we met in ’98 we were brothers, you know, big-time—we hit it off ’cos we have a lot of similar ideas on big issues in life you might say—and I realized what happened, this scheme to control the product. I didn’t have his telephone number, ’cos Øystein was in contact with the guy.”

  “I got in touch with the band again when I met them in Italy,” explains Attila, speaking of their 1998 visit to Milan captured on Mediolanum Capta Est. “I spoke to Hellhammer even before that, there had been a blackout for a year or two, but after that we were in touch and there were some agreements that if they ever needed a vocalist they were going to ask me first. In 2004 Blasphemer called me finally. I had heard the last records and there was a musical progression and I must say Blasphemer is a really great composer and guitarist so it was cool to work together.”

  “I always got on well with the vocalists,” says the guitarist, “both Maniac and Attila, though I didn’t really know Attila then. He had a lot of ideas. By the end Maniac was not into it at all, so when you got a hungry vocalist back in, he gave a lot—you could really feel the difference in rehearsal and his voice had a lot of personality.”

  2007’s Ordo ad Chao, one of the band’s least compromising efforts.

  The results of this collaboration would surface on the 2007 album Ordo Ad Chao, a twist on the Freemason motto “Ordo Ab Chao” or “Order from Chaos.” Like 2000’s Grand Declaration of War it was conceived via intense collaboration between vocalist and guitarist, and based around a carefully conceived concept, with Attila handling all lyrics and Blasphemer writing all the music in the studio, even going so far as to record the basslines on all but one song.

  “The composition was mainly between Blasphemer and myself but of course we shared ideas all the time, sending files back and forth,” explains Attila. “In 2005 we laid down what the ideology should be for the next record, it was kind of a long process. That album went a little bit over the top, a lot of riffs and changes, there’s a lot of details there that people don’t see. Actually I don’t think I ever worked as much on any lyrics, I tried to make it cryptic but every lyric had a meaning, I could talk for hours on the connections between songs and so on. The intro and the last song connected, it’s like a frame, then the first three songs are more like an outer perspective and the next two an inner perspective. And it’s on three levels; nature, society and religion. We took the slogan ‘Ordo ab chao’ and tried to turn it ’round, ‘order into chaos’ not ‘order from the chaos.’ There’s a lot going on in the lyrics and the music; people would think it was very chaotic, but it’s very organized. We like to challenge and the Ordo album was challenging for the fans.”

  That’s something of an understatement. The polar opposite of Grand Declaration of War, Ordo Ad Chao was nonetheless just as daring a statement. Murky and bass-heavy, it is a swampy and inaccessible listen, revealing its mysteries and rewards only with considerable patience from the listener. Once again using unusual time signatures and song structures, the riffs and melodies are obscure even by Mayhem standards, and the production—courtesy of Attila and Blasphemer, the album being engineered and mixed by Arcturus’ Knut Valle—saw the processed approach of earlier releases replaced by a sound as undeniably organic as a hunk of rotten meat. Even Hellhammer’s percussion had undergone a radical transformation from its usually ultra-precise approach, having been recorded in just a few evenings, with only kicks being triggered and no equalizing whatsoever.

  “I set it as my goal to make the most negative piece of shit ever,” states Blasphemer. “We came up with this crazy concept that was perfect you know, it was all about questioning everything, basically what I wanted to do with the music was very on the border where people stop calling it music, everything was chaotic, hypnotic, acid-like. I think we managed something pretty unique on that album. It was more about exploring guitars and getting the ugliest possible riff out. Of course it had to be good, but it was more like a science of the music, trying to get it to absorb itself in terms of negativity.”

  While much of the band’s fan base were excited to have Attila back in the fold, it was already clear that pleasing the tastes of Mayhem traditionalists was still a long way down the band’s list of priorities. Ordo Ad Chao, though undeniably black metal, was nonetheless just as avant-garde and experimental as Grand Declaration, a point the band’s live shows soon began to reflect. Central to this was Attila, who quickly turned the aesthetic of the genre on its head with a wide array of costumes that saw the frontman plastered in trash, singing from a sack, adorned as a tree, dressed as Bugs Bunny, appearing in a mo
ck kitchen as a chef, and even wearing a dead pig’s head, among other outfits. The pig’s head drew some inevitable criticisms, though the singer was quick to point out that he himself was a vegetarian and very interested in nature (incidentally, if you ever want to talk with someone on the marvels of insect or deep sea life, Attila is your man).

  “I think black metal is basically a multidimensional thing and it’s not only about the human aspect,” says Attila thoughtfully. “How can you manifest it? You use costumes, that was the idea with the makeup too I guess, the corpsepaint; not to hide yourself but represent something un-human in some way. It was also very challenging for me, I had to come up with a different costume for every show and so for a tour I really had to plan, it was a lot of extra work. I guess the bunny was one of the more challenging ones but also Hole In The Sky [festival] where they wanted to do an interview and I had this mummy costume, so I thought, ‘Let’s put it in a bizarre thing, make it the stage thing, the mummy gives an interview,’ and we did it during the interview between two songs. To do this is extremely challenging and from challenges you learn, this is the way to step forward. I don’t even understand always why we do it! For example, when we wrote [Ordo Ad Chao] we didn’t know how it would come out. I don’t have to do everything logically, but afterwards I always get the point.”

  Initially conceived by Attila and Blasphemer, the new stage show was very much in line with Attila’s approach to art and life as a whole. In fact, where Maniac’s lyrics had revealed a scientifically inclined, non-spiritual outlook, Attila’s lyrics for Ordo Ad Chao drew upon a unique worldview and an interest in conspiracies and alternative views of the universe.

  “I don’t consider myself an artist in the traditional meaning, it’s more like a channel,” he explains, “these ideas are coming from somewhere and even I cannot say where. Of course there is me in there, but it’s more about keeping the channel open and clean so that I can receive it. I always felt this channeling since the Tormentor times. I think our mind is working on so many levels that we’re not aware of, not just the subconscious but the supreme consciousness. Where is an idea coming from? We don’t know—people would say it’s an electrochemical something in our brain, but I don’t think it’s just that, I think something is coming from outside, that there is knowledge out there. Like birds that have a map in their head or fishes, they don’t get lost, and in a similar way I think we can connect to this knowledge. I think we have an ability to hook on this information and that’s one of my goals in life; to understand that, and more and more I am looking to the ancients. People talk about the evolution of civilizations but if you look to the ancients they were able to make structures that we can’t make today, such as Baalbek in Lebanon.”