Sinners Revolt
Rupert Neethling
They hated us for fighting back. Unforgivable, that. Gays, albinos and shunned wives should be easy prey. Lying down quietly and taking it was the least we could do, for our sin of existing.
It was summer, scant water, sand everywhere. Laughter and slaughter. The world. They did not want us in it.
One by one, from every corner, we who’d heard about it found refuge in a cave, halfway up a hill surrounded by hills.
There was fresh water at the back of the cave and we piled brush in front, always careful to wipe our footprints, coming and going. That was as far as our plans went, until we found Khuma.
Khuma had collapsed beside a dried-out acacia at the foot of our hill, legs streaked with blood and piss, her pelvis caked in red mud. Dragging her up the hill she seemed typical, just another reject, dribbling from the front and rear after getting herself gang-raped by soldiers, shot in the loins, then driven from her village by husband and kin for the crime of being violated. But her eyes, if you really looked: No horror there, no shame, no timidity. They were deep brown with slivers of amber. When you looked into Khuma’s eyes, a lion stared back at you.
We never discussed it. We were four used-up old women accused of witchcraft, two shy boys who liked each other’s bodies too much, and an albino, starving in a cave. By the time she could walk a few steps, Khuma had become our teacher.
She taught us how to read using an old newspaper. And how to set traps for spiny mice. She made our worlds bigger and she showed us how to survive without the laughing slaughterers.
We would still have been in that cave, staying out of sight, but for two things. First, there were the soldiers who every day came closer to finding our hiding place. And then there were the guns and bullets we’d found buried next to the spring at the back of the cave.
Before one of the soldiers shot her, Khuma had watched him load the magazine of his rifle, smack it in, and take off the safety. That she knew how to show us. That was enough.
Where did we find the courage to follow Khuma’s lead? Perhaps it was because she recognised the man who’d broken her, and we could not deny her. Or perhaps none of us much wanted to return to our respective hells that day. Either way, we had this one chance, and with her example, everything that followed seemed to happen without having to decide anything. We crouched behind outcroppings, waited gravely, and pulled our triggers as soon as Khuma did.
Half a dozen soldiers dead or dying in minutes, far below. Their blood black on green uniforms, bright clouds of flies appearing instantly.
I did not move afterwards; just stared at the bodies. I don’t think I would have picked up that gun, much less use it, if there had been more time to think. Killing someone, even a man who was coming to hurt you – there is no turning back. But they were gone and we were still there. Our ears were ringing, and I felt giddy, as if I had heatstroke. We never found out whether they had been looking for us or someone else.
The next day, though, there was no doubt that we were the ones being hunted. One of them had gotten away. We did not know that, and were unprepared for the swarm of soldiers and villagers who came for us just after sunrise.
I was away, digging among the rocks for anything that scurried or crawled. But I was close enough to hear and see my friends dying. Not before all the women were raped again, of course. This time, though, no limb remained attached, no face was recognizable. I only knew who was who because I watched as they were butchered.
My girl, you may think we achieved nothing by killing those soldiers. But that was the day when we fought for our lives. You stand up for yourself, or you learn how.
Now finish sharpening your knife. You stand first guard.
Otep Shamaya wrote this. First woman lead singer in heavy metal to come out.
Livestock
It began
With a pen
In my hand
Stabbed
In the center of chaos
To write out the light
That lives within me
That sought to break
The darkness
Eating me alive…
For hours I would sit
Dreaming, drawing
Writing, believing
My arm in a sling
One eye swollen shut…
Whispering
There would be a way out
There must be
A way out…
Focused
On the paper
On the floor
That held me
Heavy as a stone
In the corner
Of that tiny room
Floating on a river
Of Imagination…
Isolated
On my knees
Seeded in the soil
With girls
Younger than I
Holding their backs
Arching puffed bellies
Stuffed full with their
Infected children…
Celestial incest…
Terrestrial insects…
We slept in boxes
That doubled as coffins
Because
Some were smart enough
To die…
But not I
Stubborn little cyclops…
I
Was destined
To fight……
How something can be both so frenziedly vicious and epically rich is almost beyond understanding. Keep of Kalessin’s Armada appeals equally to the bitter old bastard and the fresh-eyed boy in me. I suppose the overlap is found in the speed of this metal — it is like a huge and bloody bolt of lightning. And yet on each track the compositional deftness shines through, as does the production quality. It’s Satan’s raging hardon in a filigreed copper sheath.
This album, in short, is a triumph on many levels. If you like your black metal to be both mean and musical, you’re going to listen to Armada often.
10 years before, these guys made an album called Maiastru Sfetnic. Then, in 2010, they remade it and called it Maiestritt. This may be the greatest album that Romanian black metallers Negura Bunget have ever made. Layered, searingly beautiful, majestic. Not a note wasted; just brilliant.
The almost classical compositions, the heartfelt roaring (I almost don’t want to call it screaming because it never seems pathetic, if you know what I mean), the creative instrumentation and refined power of this album make me return to it time and again. Maiestritt is masterful.
I’ve heard Deathspell Omega before, and wasn’t as impressed as perhaps I should have been. But Paracletus is a different story. This is a furious work of art. A perfect combination of teeth-grinding apocalypse and sad musicality. This is what makes black metal so different, to my ears, to other metal subgenres. There is honest creativity here. Not technical virtuosity, not pompousness, not “I can thrash faster than you”, but creativity. I like where they take me.
You know, if you listen to Darkestrah there is little evidence that their lead singer is female. Admittedly, this is easier with black metal than with death metal, as the growling in the black variety is higher-pitched anyway: like the growl of a small panther rather than the roar of the Lion King. But there it is. She calls herself Kriegtalith, and in full black-metal regalia she’s almost indistinguishable from her male counterparts:
But I digress. Darkestrah hail from Kyrgyzstan, and they’ve been around for over a decade. I haven’t heard all their music, but there is a trend towards greater quality through the years. Their latest album, The Great Silk Road
Years ago you would have put a “heavy” in front of it, but today it’s more accurate simply to call this breed of music “metal”. After all, it has forked into so many subgenres since the halcyon days of Black Sabbath – those crusty pioneers may have been the original heavy metallers, but today you also get metal of the Viking, oriental, symphonic, folk, black, progressive, groove, death, technical death, power, drone, glam, rap, thrash, sludge, stoner, doom, trance (I kid you not), industrial, avant-garde and post-varieties. Not to mention nu metal, metalcore, deathcore, grindcore and mathcore. Don’t be surprised if a few more subgenres have sprouted up by the time you finish reading this article. Metal is booming, if you’ll pardon the pun.
Storming the World
But this isn’t an article about metal’s mutant-octopus family tree. What really interests me about this unabashedly loud music form is the fact that it’s being created and consumed in ever more countries – and wherever it is found, it takes on the colour of its surroundings, acquiring the unique cultural qualities of its host country while still retaining its proudly anti-authoritarian stance. So not only is metal one of the most prolific genres in the history of music, it is probably also the most adaptable. Of course, you may not be surprised to learn that most of the metal produced in the past 40 years is absolute fertilizer. Thanks to the insane volume of metal being produced, though, there is a lot that’s worth hearing. Some of it is even wonderful. The table below offers a taste of present-day metal confections that are both geographically diverse and genuinely worth listening to.
| NAME | GENRE | COUNTRY | GRIMACE FACTOR |
| Alcest | Post-metal | France | 12% – very pretty, with a few harsh bits; metal for sad romantics |
| Behemoth | Blackened Death Metal | Poland | 89% – monstrous, merciless, nasty – delightful, in short |
| Darkestrah | Epic Black Metal | Kyrgyzstan | 30% – pretty with a steel backbone, very more-ish |
| Eluveitie | Celtic Metal | Switzerland | 25% – catchy, bouncy folk-type metal with some growling |
| Grand Magus | Retro Heavy Metal | Sweden | 20% – clean, hard, retro metal; time to mosh! |
| Ihsahn | Post-Metal | Norway | 70% – abstract but still fun; much high-pitched growling |
| KOBUS! | Extreme Metal | South Africa | 65% – lekker & bitter. Do not play this during huisbesoek |
| Mar de Grises | Doom Metal | Chile | 45% – psychedelic, slow, fascinating; some growling |
| Melechesh | Black Metal | Israel | 78% – exotic, melodic and violent “Mesopotamian” metal |
| Moonsorrow | Pagan Metal | Finland | 60% – epic, powerful, catchy and addictive; love it |
| Myrath | Progressive Metal | Tunisia | 35% – lovely, mostly in Arabic, tough but melodic |
| Negura Bunget | Black/Folk Metal | Romania | 65% – harsh, but also atmospheric and alluring |
| The Dillinger Escape Plan | Mathcore | USA | 98% – very discordant, lots of screaming, yet fantastic |
Metal is even starting to take off in countries such as Brazil and China. Africa is not left in the dark either; there are some surprisingly good metal bands in Botswana, including Crackdust, Wrust and Skinflint. Metal’s growing popularity is however not always welcome; concerts in Iran and Malaysia have been subject to government crackdowns. For a fascinating pair of documentaries on the social dimensions of metal around the world, take a look at Metal: A Headbanger’s Journey and Global Metal, presented by Canadian anthropologist Sam Dunn.
A Visceral Reaction to Greatness
How do you know when a metal track is great? Your body tells you: You want to jump, shout and head-butt the air. More importantly, your hand can’t help but do this:
Older than metal itself, this sign was popularised among metalheads by Ronnie James Dio, Black Sabbath’s second vocalist after Ozzy Osbourne. His Italian grandmother had taught it to him as a traditional sign to ward off evil. In American deaf sign language, it means “I love you”.
Too Much Metal for One Hand
And how do you know when a metal track is truly awesome? Well, that’s when there’s simply too much metal for one hand:
From Black Metal, a 2-part graphic novel by Rick Spears and Chuck BB
On the surface, the metal produced in each country often has stylistic differences – this enriches the genre. But dig deeper and you’ll find that metal everywhere has one thing in common: a spirit of discontent, of rebellion. Perhaps the biggest reason why metal is so popular worldwide is because it gives voice to discontent, and energy to rebellion.
Good or bad, metal is a force of nature.
Les Discrets is a relatively new band that has made a pretty big impact right from the start with its debut album, Septembre et ses dernières Pensées. Call it light ambient alternative post-black metal, if you want. No growling, lots of male and female choruses, but still nominally an alternative brand of metal. Although I think it has more in common with a soundtrack for a movie about discerning, highly educated young vampires on Prozac 🙂
Having said that, you can put this album on repeat and bliss out.
