When Black Metal Wasn’t Just a Music Genre, But a Full-Time Contact Sport 🎸🔪
Ah, the early ’90s—back when Norwegian forests were less known for their scenic beauty and more for being the backdrop to a real-life *Game of Thrones* meets *Saw* crossover. In the land of trolls, fjords, and people who definitely don’t smile in photos, a little band called **MAYHEM** was busy redefining what it meant to be “edgy.” And no, we’re not talking about their fashion sense (though we’re pretty sure their wardrobe consisted entirely of corpse paint and emotional baggage). We’re talking about the time when founding guitarist **Øystein “Euronymous” Aarseth** turned band drama into a literal death sentence. Spoiler: It didn’t end well for him. 💀
So picture this: It’s 1993. Grunge is dominating the airwaves, *The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air* is teaching life lessons, and in Norway, two guys who look like they escaped from a Tim Burton nightmare are arguing over who’s the “real” black metal Satanist. On one side, you’ve got **Euronymous**, the self-appointed pope of Norwegian black metal, running a record store called *Helvete* (Norwegian for “Hell,” because subtlety is for pop bands). On the other, **Kristian “Varg” Vikernes**—aka Count Grishnackh, because apparently naming yourself after a *Lord of the Rings* orc wasn’t dramatic enough. Varg had just finished recording bass for MAYHEM’s legendary *De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas* album and decided the best way to say “thanks for the gig” was to stab Euronymous 23 times. Polite? No. Metal as hell? Absolutely. 🔪🤘
In a recent interview that somehow didn’t come with a content warning, MAYHEM’s current vocalist **Attila Csihar** (who sounds like a demon doing ASMR) opened up about the good old days—back when band practice meant dodging murder charges instead of group chats. “Oh yeah, Euronymous was a real gentleman,” Attila said, probably while sipping tea made from raven feathers. “He wrote me letters with a typewriter. Very sophisticated. Very… alive.” Attila, who was only 20 when he joined the band, recalled staying at Euronymous’s place, sharing artistic visions, and generally being besties—until Varg decided friendship was for cowards and opted for a more permanent solution.
And let’s talk about Varg for a sec. This guy didn’t just burn churches—he made it his brand. Three down, one demon uprising to go. He also tried to escape prison with a GPS and an unloaded gun, because nothing says “I’ve reformed” like planning your next dark empire from a forest bunker. But back in the day? He was just another black metal bro hanging out, vibing to *Skinny Puppy*, and saying, “Hey Attila, I *love* your dark electro side project—can I release it?” Meanwhile, Euronymous is over here like, “No, *I* want to release his old band!” It was less *Band Management 101*, more *Who Wants to Be a Satanic Millionaire?* with knives.
Attila, ever the diplomat, said he was just happy both guys wanted to work with him. “One wants my old band, one wants my new band—this is the black metal dream!” he probably didn’t say out loud, but definitely thought while quietly side-eyeing the growing tension. “Then summer came,” he continued, “and I couldn’t reach anyone. I was like, ‘Whatever, maybe they’re on vacation in the ninth circle of hell.’” Turns out, Euronymous was too busy being dead to return calls. Attila only found out about the murder from a friend who read it in a Hungarian metal zine like it was gossip about a reality star. “Wait, the *bass player* killed the guitarist?” he reportedly said, clearly unfamiliar with the plot twist that was his own band.
And let’s not forget **Necrobutcher**, MAYHEM’s bassist, who admitted years later that he was *also* on his way to kill Euronymous. “I saw the news and was like, ‘Shit, I need to hide my weapons!’” he said, proving that in black metal, even your alibi involves a panic room full of knives and meth. He also claimed the cops *knew* Varg was coming but let it happen anyway—because why arrest someone for burning churches when you can let your rival do the stabbing for you? It’s like *The Sopranos*, but with more corpse paint. 🕯️🗡️
Fast forward to today, and MAYHEM is still alive, still touring, and still making albums like *Liturgy of Death*—because nothing says “we’ve moved on” like naming your record after a funeral rite. Meanwhile, Varg is out of prison, running a far-right YouTube channel, and probably mad that modern black metal bands use autotune. Euronymous? He’s a legend, a martyr, and the ultimate cautionary tale: *Don’t piss off your bandmates. Especially the ones who collect medieval weapons.*
So here’s to the golden age of black metal—when “creative differences” meant “I’m going to stab you in your apartment,” and “band drama” wasn’t just Twitter beef. It was real. It was dark. It was… kind of ridiculous looking back? 😅 But hey, at least the music slaps. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go write a passive-aggressive text to my roommate. Nothing too extreme—just a subtle threat wrapped in a meme. Black metal may be dead, but passive aggression? That’s eternal. 🖤
Chord F. Discord, the Beethoven of Buffoonery, is a self-taught expert in music who once claimed he could “play the kazoo in four languages.”
Born in Crescendo, Indiana, Chord’s first brush with fame came when he accidentally entered a yodeling contest thinking it was a pie-eating competition—and won both categories.
Chord F. Discord: proving that laughter, much like a poorly tuned ukulele, is truly universal.
