Storm of Evil

Part 2

PART TWO

  "The hornd proclaiming armageddon
is the sign of the storm of evil.
  speeches of dis-worship calls forth the divine
slice your words with the lashes of the whip."
  - Isengard

  HELLFIRE

  [April 1992]

  All I heard was screaming. No audibly recognisable sounds, and certainly not words. Just...noise. The overdriven guitar made no help to distinguishing sounds either. Even the drums became a cymbal-ridden mess and the bass was next to non-existent. Listening to this disaster for the shortest three minutes had my ears ringing for hours.

  I was still coming to terms with the necrosound and the whole black metal thing, but Varg was always the first to tell me I was on the right track, proclaiming I was a natural. I was slowly growing to like it, but something about it was so different to what I'd heard Darkthrone, Mayhem and Burzum do.

  "Why does it sound so much worse?" I asked uncontrollably and Varg chuckled.

  "It's fine," he replied, an amused grin pulling at his face, "It's just much more atmospheric."

  "Atmospheric?"

  "Congratulations friend, you're now the first man alive to compose psychedelic black metal," he praised and my eyes only widened with distaste and my nose wrinkled slightly. Varg only laughed though. "As if I'd do that to you, God. Calm down and fucking trust me with this."

  "You really think it's alright?"

  "Better than. It's experimental I'll admit and it will take a very long while for anyone to develop a taste for your sound, but other than that, it's visionary," he assured, slapping a hand on my shoulder. I smiled back, but was still unsure.

  The noise was still playing in the background and we were idly listening to my demo tape. The production was fairly rough as this was only a demo, but I was pleased with the end result - an hour long tape for Euronymous to sample and put on record if he liked it. I was well on my way.

  "Ooh that's a bit rough," I said, making a face at a dissonant chord I'd struck. He rewound it and played it again, and I only cringed more. "That may need to change."

  Varg only shrugged.

  "If you want, I kind of like it," he replied. I didn't, though I couldn't be bothered to re-record it again, considering the song was a good twelve minutes long.

  "Maybe if we tone it down a bit...oh well, that's another day's work. Good job otherwise," he grinned, before ejecting the tape and shoving it in a blank case, only labeled 'The Shadow of Winter'. Varg helped me come up with it. It seemed appropriate, seeming how it was my last name as well. He said it may have to change though, as Fenriz had an experimental solo album in the making under Isengard, called Vinterskugge (Winter Shadow).

  Beyond that though, I had no other title, just the album. 'The Shadow of Winter'.

  Varg handed me a copy, and kept on for himself to give to Øystein. It was exciting to think I have a good chance of getting my music out there in the shop like the rest of them. I did my fair share of work for such a miniscule wage; this was like my repayment.

  The shop was hardly anything to live off. Varg, Øystein and Faust lived there majoritively, and I'd spent my fair share of nights crashing there as well. Øystein even had his own nook in the ceiling. However, not long after Christmas and I had officially started at Helvete, I got kicked out of my run down, piece of shit apartment in Oslo. I'd been bouncing between the Mayhem house, Helvete and the cheapest and nastiest hotel I could find nearby. The cold holiday was harsh, but I pulled through will help from the guys. Thankfully, though distant a lot of the time, we still stuck together.