Mayhem declared themselves satanists, not because they worshipped the devil, but because the creed promoted individualism, riled Christians – and got attention. Norwegians are an introverted kind of people.” The starkness and coldness of Norway itself is embedded in the bones of Norwegian black metal. We needed to have something to be opposite to.” Eriksen says he was never political, but “always kind of a lone wolf. “Christianity never suited Norway,” says Dolk, founder of the band Kampfar.
Myriad belief systems underpinned the movement, from paganism to Aarseth’s fervent communism, but Christianity was public enemy No 1. Mayhem and the growing Norwegian black metal scene distinguished themselves by railing against religion. Photograph: Publicity image from film company Mayhem, formed in 1984 in Oslo, by Aarseth, bassist Jørn Stubberud (AKA Necrobutcher) and drummer Kjetil Manheim, set the gauntlet on fire. “And the whole punk thing, but playing it fast, which really wasn’t what metal was about back then.” That, along with Quorthon’s raspy wailing and satanic lyrics, threw down a gauntlet. “The sound we created was a mix of what we liked,” says Åkerlund. From 1983 to 1984, he was the drummer in the Swedish band Bathory, who were a major influence on Norwegian black metal, not that he takes any credit for that, heaping praise on the band’s singer Quorthon. A director of music videos for Beyoncé, Madonna and Lady Gaga, among others, this is his fourth film, and his most personal. Åkerlund wants the film to have an impact. It is bruising and brutal – when it screened at the London film festival last November, a man vomited, a woman fainted and an ambulance was summoned. This month sees the release of Lords of Chaos, director Jonas Åkerlund’s intense dramatisation of events, focusing on the friendship and fatal rift between Aarseth (played by Rory Culkin) and Vikernes (Emory Cohen). “Because now, 10 years in, we have the opportunity to make whatever record we want, within reason, and people will follow along.Norwegian black metal, though, is inseparable from its history. “I think it’s good that we tried not to pigeonhole ourselves early on,” Walker reflects.
DEATHMETAL IN HELL FULL
In the end, Full Of Hell’s boundary smashing has paid off again. Elsewhere, justifiable ochlophobia propels the guttural death metal blast of “Eroding Shell.” Lyrically, the song seeks to capture our fear of the violent, ignorant mob-a scene glimpsed far too often in this volatile era. It’s a metaphor for the physical and mental space we become trapped in when we live in a perpetual state of fear and hate. Meanwhile, “Reeking Tunnels” rides a strident noise rock riff down into the sewer. "Industrial Messiah Complex” grinds organized religion to a pulp in under 90 seconds, while Walker contemplates the commodification of spirituality seen in America’s vast network of garish mega-churches and how these practices are at odds with true spirituality. Lyrically, Garden of Burning Apparitions sees vocalist Dylan Walker exploring (anti)religion, life's impermanence and the fear that comes with knowing death is inescapable. Guitarist Spencer Hazard and bassist Sam DiGristine's monstrous riffs now have an added noise-rock influence, while drummer Dave Bland commands the rhythm section at blazing speeds. Produced by Seth Manchester at Machines With Magnets in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, Garden of Burning Apparitions also sees Full Of Hell adding new dimensions to their warp-speed hellscape.
Garden Of Burning Apparitions, a genre-bending blitzkrieg of hardcore, grind and death metal, sees the band expand upon the very elements that have propelled Full Of Hell to the forefront of extreme music over the last decade.
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