by Niklas Göransson

In 1987, Pete Helmkamp, Chuck Keller, and Mike Miller converged in Kansas City to form Order from Chaos. From its inception, the death metal trio embraced an austere, uncompromising ethos that would come to define their enduring legacy.

 

CHUCK KELLER: In 1974, for my sixth birthday, I got a telescope and a book on the stars, and you can imagine the impact that had on a young kid. The following night, I went out and looked at the moon – and from that moment on, I was captivated. I kept at it, and by age ten, I’d gotten fully into astronomy.

Considering Chuck’s passion for everything interstellar, he would’ve been well-primed for the science fiction genre. Another lifelong obsession was ignited after he read The War of the Worlds by British author H.G. Wells.

CHUCK: I first came to The War of the Worlds through a vinyl of Orson Welles’ 1938 radio broadcast, which I absolutely adored. Then, at some point, I realised, ‘Hey, this story is based on a H.G. Wells novel’, so I borrowed the book from our school library. In fact, years later, I went back and asked if I could have that copy. They agreed, provided I replaced it.

While cultivating his cosmology interest, Chuck started taking piano lessons.

CHUCK: One of the pieces I learned was a Bach minuet. While practising on the piano, I accidentally played the Star Wars main theme motif. Being a big Star Wars fanatic, I instantly went, ‘Oh my god! What just happened?’ Right then, something clicked in my young brain. I realised that music holds this great unknown, and I’d unravelled a fragment of its mystery.

In 1982, Chuck was at his friends’ house when the music video for IRON MAIDEN’s “Run to the Hills” aired on television. The British heavy metal titans had just released “The Number of the Beast” – their first album with vocalist Bruce Dickinson.

CHUCK: The whole sentiment of “Run to the Hills” resonated with me. Many characters in The War of the Worlds had similar thoughts: ‘We gotta get away from the Martians!’ At first, I didn’t realise the song was about the plight of Native Americans – despite the video being filled with less-than-flattering depictions of Indians from various 1920s silent movies. But it didn’t need to make sense; the strength and power of the music completely overwhelmed me.

 

Had you heard any metal before this?

CHUCK: No. But growing up in a household with mostly classical and really old jazz, I’d taken a liking to anything symphonic. And IRON MAIDEN, especially on “The Number of the Beast”, have this huge, thick sound coupled with Bruce Dickinson’s operatic vocals. It was spectacular – big, bold, and brash – and strongly appealed to my love for orchestral music.

Over the next several months, Chuck’s friend Eason introduced him to more metal.

CHUCK: Eason had a few old OZZY OSBOURNE records, some BLACK SABBATH, KROKUS’ “Headhunter”, and lots of JUDAS PRIEST. I borrowed his tapes, started saving the money I made from grass-mowing, and was buying my own copies by ‘83. When MAIDEN announced US dates, Eason and I went wild with excitement. They were supposed to play in late September 1983, but the tour ended up postponed for a month.

Several US dates of IRON MAIDEN’s 1983 World Piece Tour had to be rescheduled due to Bruce Dickinson contracting bronchitis.

CHUCK: By the time October rolled around, it became a true watershed moment. Afterwards, Eason and I sat in the backseat, glowing. It was also one of those moments where your parents pick you up, and you’re reeking of pot because the whole venue smelled like it. You can imagine my dad, who was in law enforcement, going, ‘Oh boy, what did we let our son do?’

Chuck’s father retired as a major from the Army in 1980. Parallel to his military career, he also worked at the Kansas City Police Department for thirty years.

CHUCK: My dad never pushed me to follow in his footsteps – but over here, there was a general assumption that you do whatever your father did. However, by 1983, I’d realised I didn’t wanna develop the saluting habit. So, I went to him one day to have ‘the talk’. ‘Dad, I’m not joining the Army.’ He went, ‘Thank God.’ I added, ‘Wait, it gets worse; I don’t want to be a cop either.’ He replied, ‘Oh, yes!’

How so?

CHUCK: Well, my father knew what an abject mess such a life can be. You don’t spend decades in public service without becoming jaded by all the associated politics, daily chaos, and needless stupidity. It didn’t bother him, me not wanting to follow in his footsteps. I was adopted, so who knows how much my genetics played into it – but I simply lacked the disposition to follow orders. When my focus grew more arts-oriented, he said, ‘Son, go do something else’, so that’s what I did.

 

At this point, Chuck was a full-fledged metalhead – but only as a fan. He played music in school bands but had never really considered rock ‘n’ roll.

CHUCK: I’d read in metal magazines about this guy called Yngwie Malmsteen, and it turns out he’s a classically influenced guitarist. I thought, ‘I gotta hear this’, and bought his debut album, “Rising Force”, in the spring of 1985. I’ll never forget listening to it for the first time. ‘This is everything everybody said it was! And maybe more.’ It surpassed all expectations and ignited my interest in playing guitar.

Yngwie Malmsteen is setting the bar pretty high.

CHUCK: I still can’t play solos like Yngwie, but I do rip him off whenever I’m able to <laughs>. I already had a basic familiarity with music theory from my piano and trumpet lessons. Even though I couldn’t read guitar music, a lot of it made sense right out of the gate. I wouldn’t say intrinsically, but I understood it. I viewed the guitar like a piano keyboard since both instruments range chromatically.

In early 1986, Chuck had a brief stint jamming metal classics with his friend Mike Miller, whom he’d known since first grade. Moreover, they’d played together in a school band since 1978; Chuck was a trumpeter, Mike a percussionist.

CHUCK: In ‘86, Mike and I were in both the marching band and our high school concert ensemble. We were kicking around with another guitarist called Bobby, and he was light years ahead of me. Bobby had one of those beautiful Ibanez Destroyers with three pickups, like Phil Collen from DEF LEPPARD – and he could really play it.

How much had you progressed by then?

CHUCK: I hadn’t even played guitar for a full year, so I was still learning. But I knew enough to do JUDAS PRIEST, IRON MAIDEN, and METALLICA cover songs. Mike’s parents had a concrete basement, and I remember the sound echoing everywhere. Yet somehow, we got great recordings out of those sessions; I really wish I’d kept the old rehearsal tapes.

 

Around that time, Chuck spent a lot of his time and money at a local record store called 7th Heaven and Music Exchange.

CHUCK: 7th Heaven, which still exists, became a central hub for music in the whole area. I hung out there constantly because I was real sweet on this hair-metal chick who managed all the promo material from the labels. She planned to move to Los Angeles, and they needed a replacement. I had the necessary skills, so she told the manager, ‘Yeah, go ahead and hire this kid.’

What were your qualifications?

CHUCK: I’d memorised all the record companies and their distributors. The store owners quizzed me on it: ‘Okay, here’s a label. Who’s our distributor? Is it W.E.A. Corp? Is it Arista?’ I nailed every single question because when you bought an album back in those days, you pored over it and absorbed every nugget of information on the jacket and sleeve.

Very true – still to this day, I can recall the thanks lists of obscure demo tapes.

CHUCK: I remembered all of it. Even today, Mike and I might discuss an old record, mentioning the producer or whatever: ‘No, he didn’t engineer that one, but he mixed this!’ Tonnes of silly trivia that nobody in their right mind retains – but that’s what you did in the 80s. So, I was eighteen, hired for minimum wage, but ecstatic to be working there. I became the punk and metal buyer, shepherding those sections.

Around the same time, Chuck began delving into tape trading. He’d read about legendary tape trader Ron Quintana – also editor of the Metal Mania fanzine, which played a key role in the US metal underground. Chuck decided to contact Quintana, mostly to see what would happen.

CHUCK: Ron wrote me back, and I realised, ‘Wow, this actually works!’ <laughs> Ron, the guy who named METALLICA, is just a helluva nice guy to this day. From there, I branched out, and the whole thing exploded over the summer of ‘86. I was fully into it. And working at the record store, I could print my catalogue list and get used cassettes to dub over. I had resources, let’s put it that way.

 

Like many young metalheads, Chuck’s record collector mindset soon morphed into a hoarding monomania. In the fall of 1986, his newfound zeal set the stage for a significant introduction.

CHUCK: Someone Mike and I knew worked with this guy, Eric, who owned a rare METALLICA picture disc. I went, ‘Okay, I need that one for my collection; get me his number.’ I called, and Eric was like, ‘I’m not selling it, but let’s talk. Do you listen to MERCYFUL FATE?’ I said, ‘Oh yeah, I love ‘em!’ He ran through a whole litany of bands, and I liked them all. Except for ABATTOIR – they did nothing for me.

ABATTOIR was a mid-80s American speed metal band that released two albums on Combat Records. Their primary claim to fame is being picked as the opening act for MEGADETH’s stage debut.

CHUCK: Towards the conversation’s end, Eric asked, ‘Would you like to be in a band?’ I laughed and said, ‘Well, I guess? But dude, I’ve only played guitar for about a year.’ He said, ‘I jam with a bass player, Pete, and a singer called David. We’ve got two guitarists, but all they wanna do is cover JUDAS PRIEST and IRON MAIDEN. We want to go heavier. Come by here, bring your stuff.’

Chuck went over, met Eric, Pete, and David, and jammed a few METALLICA songs.

CHUCK: When the remaining two guys showed up and saw me, they asked, ‘Who is this?’ The others said, ‘Oh, he’s the new guitarist.’ They got the message and left our orbit. By October, we played together regularly, running through SLAYER covers and deciding which EXODUS song to do, like “Piranha”. NUCLEAR ASSAULT’s “Game Over” was brand new at the time, and we were all way into that.

 

Soon thereafter, on Halloween Night of 1986, Chuck was floored by a compilation album called “Speed Kills II”, released on both vinyl and tape by UK label Under One Flag.

CHUCK: I’d been looking at that cassette for a month or two, just trying to wrap my head around it. ‘What the hell is this about?’ The cover had a blurred photo of a drummer who I swear is Ian Mosley (MARILLION). I knew some bands, like HELLOWEEN, which I was a big fan of. So, I had to hear it.

First out is AGENT STEEL, with ex-ABATTOIR vocalist John Cyriis, followed by Canada’s RAZOR. Then we have BATHORY, described in the booklet as a ‘Swedish one-man blur – zero melody’.

CHUCK: I played it, and AGENT STEEL came on. ‘Whoa! What the hell is this?’ Then RAZOR… and I can’t think of a faster band with such a consistently heavy guitar tone. They blew me away completely. Next up is BATHORY, and I was essentially stunned. I immediately bought both their albums, thinking, ‘This is insanity!’

The compilation also features “Sepulchral Voice” by German thrash metal pioneers SODOM. By then, Chuck had befriended Pete Helmkamp – the bassist of their cover band, who’d previously expressed curiosity about SODOM.

CHUCK: We listened together, going crazy over all these new bands. I still have that tape; it’s in the cabinet over there. “Speed Kills II” changed a lot of things. The other guys liked SLAYER, EXODUS, and NUCLEAR ASSAULT – as did I – but Pete and I were like, ‘This darker, more evil stuff… here is where we live.’ He glommed onto SODOM, I glommed onto BATHORY.