by Niklas Göransson

The Ajna Offensive emerged in 1995, born from the visionaries behind Descent Magazine. Co-founder Tyler Davis reflects on the label’s roots and his lifelong ties to American counterculture.

 

TYLER DAVIS: As someone born in the 1970s, I grew up with the KISS phenomenon, which led me to LED ZEPPELIN, BLACK SABBATH, and RUSH. Then – and I’m not exactly sure how it happened, perhaps influenced by other kids at school – things progressed from there to IRON MAIDEN, OZZY OSBOURNE, MÖTLEY CRÜE, and VAN HALEN.

In Descent #3, Tyler recounted how, at fifteen, he discovered an ensemble that both preceded and overshadowed the likes of BLACK SABBATH and Alice Cooper.

TYLER: For my birthdays as a kid, my aunt would take me to any restaurant I wanted, and then we’d go shopping. One year, I asked her to take me to a record store, and I picked out a KING DIAMOND album. She looked at it and said, ‘Oh, did you know my boyfriend was in a band with Satanic themes?’ I had no idea, so she proceeded to tell me about COVEN.

Formed in Chicago in the late 1960s, COVEN was among the first bands to incorporate overt occult and Satanic themes into music and stage performances. Their 1969 debut album, “Witchcraft Destroys Minds & Reaps Souls”, featured dark, psychedelic rock with sinister lyrics.

TYLER: For obvious reasons, I became obsessed. Some people describe “Witchcraft…” as BLACK SABBATH meets JEFFERSON AIRPLANE, and I’m okay with that. The lyrics were incredible, the photography and design perfect, and the black mass on the B-side fit everything that captivated me at the time. My mom was terrified, already knowing my interest in similarly unsavoury subject matters.

 

As it happened, Mrs Davis’ concerns held some merit. At the end of that year, 1985, Tyler visited his cousin in Walnut Creek, California.

TYLER: His mom went out on a date that night, and I learned METALLICA was playing in San Francisco. At fifteen, neither of us owned a car, so we hopped on the transit system, headed into the city, and saw METALLICA, MEGADETH, EXODUS, and METAL CHURCH. I bought merch for all the bands.

The MEGADETH shirt had ‘Rattle Your Goddamn Head’ printed on the back, a reference to the song “Rattlehead” from their 1985 debut album, “Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good!”. Knowing the garment would be unpopular at home, Tyler kept it in his school locker.

TYLER: There was a convocation – a big assembly where all the students went to the gym for pep talks or scolding – and I decided to wear my MEGADETH shirt. Hanging out with all the heshers, we sat in the back row, talking amongst ourselves, ignoring the whole thing. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me off the bench.

The vice principal dragged Tyler out of the room. He despised the shirt and delivered a lecture on how heavy metal corrupts the mind and body.

TYLER: He threatened to expel me, ranting about how terrible the shirt was, and even claimed it had a double entendre. I told him he was the real pervert for thinking that, which didn’t go over well <laughs>. That’s when things at home took a turn. My records and shirts got tossed in the trash, so I had to dig them out of the dumpster and stash them at a friend’s house. That’s how the bedroom photo of me came to be. My parents thought throwing them away would solve the problem. It didn’t.

 

By 1986, Tyler had started attending more concerts and meeting like-minded youths.

TYLER: I began selling records out of our basement; I also thought about creating a magazine and putting on shows. There was a local GG Allin-obsessed guy named Unk, and when I placed my first wholesale order, he suggested I pick up a seven-inch by this band called MELVINS. That definitely became a formative experience and kind of a game-changer for me.

In what way?

TYLER: You have to remember, punk and metal were still separate worlds at that point. I grew up a metalhead but had begun losing interest when death metal emerged, so I gravitated towards the punk scene, starting with bands like MELVINS, MISFITS, and so on.

Did you ever see GG Allin live?

TYLER: No, but I walked into some cult video store in LA once when I was down there checking out Amok Books, and he stood behind the counter, signing videos and generally being GG Allin. I’d brought my girlfriend along and suggested she wait outside while I perused the store <laughs>. But no, I never saw him perform live.

Another old gem that Tyler missed was Glenn Danzig’s post-MISFITS band SAMHAIN. In April 1986, they brought their November Coming Tour to Indianapolis.

TYLER: My friend went on a cocaine binge, bailed on me, probably banged the whole band – I don’t know. Ended up at the show without me, nonetheless. Also, a year or two earlier, I was supposed to see IRON MAIDEN and TWISTED SISTER. But yeah, that one friend stole his parents’ car and crashed it, so I had no one to go with. Couple of disappointments like that.

How was the underground scene in 1980s Indianapolis?

TYLER: Pretty good, actually – not all metal; there was a lot of crossover music. One of the first records I released while still in high school came from a local act called TRANSGRESSION. They played a big role in bringing other bands to town and eventually landed a deal with Manic Ears.

Manic Ears Records was a UK label founded in the mid-1980s, known for its focus on hardcore punk and crossover thrash.

TYLER: The TRANSGRESSION guys had friends in Chicago and Detroit, so plenty of bands passed through. Indianapolis was the ninth largest city in the US, I think. We got to see IMPULSE MANSLAUGHTER, Texas’ DEVASTATION, and Detroit’s DIE KREUZEN, along with many lesser-known acts. Once I got my own car at sixteen, having that kind of access to music was amazing.

 

Tyler made another notable discovery in 1988: PSYCHIC TV, an experimental art and music group from England.

TYLER: I’d enrolled in an art college and some goth kid there used to sing PSYCHIC TV songs. I’d start singing along, not even knowing what we were singing. He eventually told me about PSYCHIC TV, and I picked up from there. At the time, I felt a bit bored with my usual music and wanted something a bit less earthy-based.

In 1991, at twenty-one, Tyler moved nearly one thousand miles to Boston, Massachusetts.

TYLER: Some penpals offered me a room in their house, and Boston felt like an entirely different world. Indianapolis has always been very sports-oriented and culturally conservative – and as you can imagine, I was neither. Being young and rebellious, I also didn’t want to be anywhere near my family.

Living in Boston, Tyler was now only an hour’s drive from Providence, Rhode Island, where he’d travel for concerts and record stores.

TYLER: I’d go see bands like SLEEP CHAMBER, GODFLESH, MORBID ANGEL, RORSCHACH, COP SHOOT COP, and MELVINS. I also remember a store called Armageddon Shop. My most striking discovery there was finding this black gatefold jacket embossed with roses: DEATH IN JUNE’s “The World That Summer”. I bought that one and “The Guilty Have No Pride” on the same day, which definitely changed the paradigm.

Why do you think neo-folk struck such a chord?

TYLER: At that time, I was staying in a fairly lively house and had grown tired of all the protesting. Witnessing this fusion of death metal and punk – you know, magazines always discussing politics and bands like DESTRUCTION tackling societal issues – became tiresome. The industrial and neo-folk scenes, with their spiritual and metaphysical elements and a focus on returning to nature, held much more appeal for me.

Additional discoveries awaited at The Other Sound – a Boston store linked to John Zewizz, a prominent figure in the city’s underground music scene. His band, SLEEP CHAMBER, combined industrial music with experimental soundscapes, delving into themes of the occult and fetishism. Inner-X-Musick, the label associated with Zewizz, became his platform to release not only SLEEP CHAMBER’s work but also material from other avant-garde acts.

TYLER: The Other Sound was in a part of Boston I didn’t usually visit, but once I found it, I went back a few times. They carried obscure ritual sounds and occult music releases from bands like WOMEN OF THE SS, SLEEP CHAMBER, and SCHLOSS TEGAL. That whole trajectory – the ritual sex-magick stuff – felt far more interesting to me than punk and hardcore.

Amidst these new musical discoveries, Tyler established a one-time label called Warloch. Its first and only release was a compilation of recordings by Charles Manson titled “The Son of Man”.

TYLER: I received an inheritance after my grandmother passed – a small pittance, but enough to acquire a set of Manson relics. Some figures he’d woven from socks… needlepoint or cross-stitching or whatever it’s called, pieces by Sandra Good and Squeaky, along with letters from Charlie. The collection included a cassette tape with about twenty-two minutes of him rambling, jamming, and singing, which ended up on “The Son of Man”.

 

Besides pilgrimages to record stores, Tyler also participated in the international tape-trading community. One of his contacts was Kalvin Piper, the bassist for HERESY – a well-known band in the English punk and hardcore scene.

TYLER: Kalv sent me records by Japanese bands like G.I.S.M, LIPCREAM, GAUZE, THE EXECUTE, and so on. It worked out well for me – I traded him my old punk LPs for stuff I’d never be able to find in America. And when that Kerrang! article about black metal came out, he provided a photocopy.

Kerrang!’s infamous The Ugly Truth About Black Metal story appeared in their March ‘93 issue. Shortly thereafter, Kalv sent Tyler DARKTHRONE’s “A Blaze in the Northern Sky” and BEHERIT’s “Dawn of Satan’s Millennium.”

TYLER: I’d say that DARKTHRONE spoke to me the most. It was like a blend of the metal I grew up on mixed with the ritual-occult aspects of the industrial music I’d been exploring. I know it sounds strange to say that about DARKTHRONE, but they really felt like a fusion of those two worlds.

Were you into death metal and the like?

TYLER: Not really; the only death metal I enjoyed back then, and probably still do, would be the first AUTOPSY record, DEICIDE, and MORBID ANGEL – mainly because of the lyrical content. I also liked GODFLESH for their industrial elements, but beyond that, the genre hasn’t had much impact on me. The Kerrang! article opened doors that death metal never did.

 

When Descent #1 came out in May 1994, how deep had you delved into the black metal underground?

TYLER DAVIS: Not too deep. I’d started working my way through the Kerrang! article, picking up all those releases. I probably had around forty records by then – the first CRADLE OF FILTH, some Deathlike Silence titles, likely EMPEROR, and ABRUPTUM. At the time, I lived in a punk house in Oakland.

That sounds like hell on earth.

TYLER: Well, the closet I stayed in only cost $90 a month, so… <laughs>. One of my roommates went back to Seattle to visit family. She attended a show where Stephen O’Malley stood outside, hawking the first issue of Descent Magazine, and thought, ‘Oh, Tyler is really into black metal; I should pick this up for him.’

Back in those days, getting hold of a fanzine could be life-changing.

TYLER: Yeah, I vividly remember the visceral experience of seeing the cover, flipping through the pages, noticing the runes, and recognising some of the band names. I felt almost emotionally overwhelmed and immediately penned a letter to Stephen. I also discovered that someone featured in the magazine came from Indiana – all these elements solidified the direction I was heading toward. Descent pried the door open even further.

At that point, how did you go about finding new black metal releases?

TYLER: Oakland had a thriving crust and grindcore scene, and many punk kids were into older metal, such as MERCYFUL FATE and VENOM. After the Kerrang! article, some of them bought black metal albums which they then promptly discarded upon learning about the musicians’ politics. This meant I could visit record stores a couple of times a week and pick up stuff like “Aske” (BURZUM) for $2.95. That’s also when I discovered ZERO KAMA.

ZERO KAMA, a ritual ambient project founded in 1983 by Austrian musician Michael DeWitt, employed instruments crafted from human bones and skulls, with themes rooted in ceremonial magic.

TYLER: ZERO KAMA’s “The Secret Eye of L.A.Y.L.A.H” sat among records like “Aske” and “Into the Abyss” (POISON). I already knew BURZUM, but not the other two. The ZERO KAMA album was priced at, what, $3.95? I picked it up – ’This cover looks great!’ – and turned it over… nothing but bone instruments. Sold.

 

When the second Descent issue came out in the spring of 1995, Tyler had struck up a friendship with its editor, Stephen O’Malley.

TYLER: I don’t remember how long the letter I sent was, but long enough that Stephen received it, responded, and took my interests seriously. We corresponded in writing and probably had some phone calls. I can’t recall if I contributed to the second issue or not, though.

In a Bardo Methodology #6 interview, O’Malley mentioned that Tyler facilitated many new musical introductions. The editorial of Descent #2 even hinted at ‘a few changes in the content and direction of Descent in the future’, as Stephen’s ‘tastes had turned towards some variations of dark tones’.

When Tyler visited Stephen in Seattle, they’d frequent a small, hole-in-the-wall record shop called Ohm Music. This is where Tyler discovered AIN SOPH, an Italian band that emerged in the early 1980s, primarily known for dark, ritualistic music designed to accompany esoteric practices.

TYLER: That place was even smaller than The Other Sound. But yeah, they stocked AIN SOPH and other titles from Nekrophile Rekords, plus all sorts of similar tapes, which became another major find. Today, it’s all internet-based – but back then, you could walk into a store and your whole world would expand.

 

In 1995, as an extension of Descent Magazine, Tyler Davis and Stephen O’Malley founded a label called The Ajna Offensive.

‘Ajna’ refers to the third eye chakra, the sixth primary energy centre in yogic traditions – it symbolises intuition, perception, and inner wisdom, as well as the mind’s capacity to access deeper truths and subtle energies. While somewhat obscure today, the term was even more so in the mid-90s.

TYLER: Oh, the name probably came from me delving deeper into occult practice. You know, people have different fetishes over time and at that period, there were several going around – some of which are probably best left in the past <laughs>. The whole Sanskrit thing, the East’s influence on the West, Crowley, Blavatsky, and all that.

English occultist Aleister Crowley incorporated Eastern practices like meditation, yoga, and the study of chakras into his works. Helena Blavatsky, a Russian philosopher and co-founder of the Theosophical Society, helped introduce Western audiences to Eastern philosophies, blending Hindu, Buddhist, and Egyptian spiritual concepts with her own theories on the evolution of human consciousness.

TYLER: Crowley interested me, and his ideas were bubbling up in the black metal scene and through bands like AIN SOPH, who had ties to Kabbalah. So, the Sanskrit connection aligned with the meditation aspects I’d been exploring, as well as the chakra system. I also liked the double meaning of ‘offensive’ – not in a ‘fuck you’ sense, though people could interpret it that way. I saw it more as a militaristic initiative.

Did you regard Ajna as a continuation of Warloch?

TYLER: No, it felt different – more ideological in nature. Warloch was a one-off experiment, which turned out well, but it carried a more frivolous tone. The Ajna Offensive had a clear mission and purpose.

Did Stephen share your occult interests?

TYLER: Definitely. I can’t fully speak for him, of course, but he was very drawn to the more spiritual side of music. If you look at what he’s done with SUNN O))) and BURNING WITCH, there are plenty of esoteric themes. No two people interpret any subject identically, but our interests overlapped enough that they intertwined well, making it work for quite some time.

 

Soon after launching the label, Tyler flew to Europe, combining holiday travel with underground networking.

TYLER: I no longer recall exactly how my trip began, but it included a stop in Hungary. I found a postcard of Countess Bathory at an art museum in Budapest while searching for the classic portrait of her. From there, I made my way up to Sweden to visit Mortiis and Ilsa – the girl on the cover of “Selvmord” (VOND). I remember stepping into their flat; I’d never seen a place so completely covered in records and posters. I thought, ‘Wow, this is a trip.’ They showed me around Halmstad, and afterwards, I headed to Oslo.