by Niklas Göransson

Forged in discipline, emboldened by disdain, and shaped through three uncompromising voices, Judeobeast Assassination distilled the iconoclasm of Grand Belial’s Key into purpose-driven poison – sharpened by intent, and wielded with a will to wound.

 

GELAL NECROSODOMY: When Drakkar agreed to release “Judeobeast Assassination”, they threw in ARGHOSLENT too, which made sense – both bands under one roof. Cyril told me, ‘I’ll do it all: vinyl, tape, CD, and merch. I can also set up shows in Europe.’ What else could we ask for?

In 2000, after returning from Argentina – where he’d spent the past year writing the music and lyrics for “Judeobeast Assassination” – Gelal was approached by French label Drakkar Productions. The two parties quickly worked out a deal, leaving GRAND BELIAL’S KEY free to focus entirely on preparing the material.

GELAL: All of us were at the point where real-life shit starts taking up more time, but band morale was good, man; we had a solid fucking line-up. The fact that our drummer could sing made things much easier, as it allowed us to stay a three-piece. Dealing with a five-person band like ARGHOSLENT is a pain in the ass.

ARGHOSLENT released “Galloping Through the Battle Ruins” via Wood-Nymph Records in October 1998, just months after “Mocking the Philanthropist”. But with the label on the verge of boycott-induced bankruptcy, distribution efforts were minimal. Most remaining stock was boxed up alongside the G.B.K. debut and left to gather dust in the ruins of Wood-Nymph.

Following the Drakkar deal, ARGHOSLENT regrouped and got to work on their second album, “Incorrigible Bigotry”. At the same time, with bassist Demonic back in the fold, the newly reformed GRAND BELIAL’S KEY trio got to work in the attic of vocalist and drummer The Black Lourde of Crucifixion in Chichester, Pennsylvania.

GELAL: We rehearsed the shit out of those songs. That was always Demonic’s thing – he wanted us all together, practising. I’d often record our sessions, then listen back to see if Cazz (The Black Lourde of Crucifixion) did something particularly good, because he’s always playing different beats. And with “Mocking…” fresh in mind, I’d say, ‘Hey, Cazz, listen to this. You gotta keep that drum roll.’

With sixty-six minutes of material to arrange and memorise, “Mocking the Philanthropist” quickly became a logistical strain. Gelal’s three-hour drive to rehearsals meant limited time to lock things down, so The Black Lourde often improvised – playing parts differently each time.

THE BLACK LOURDE OF CRUCIFIXION: I improvise in all of my bands. When jamming, I’m just feeling the song out, subconsciously searching for what works best, so the beats might change from time to time. You’d probably call it a bit sloppy, which is fair. That’s how I describe my drumming: a little rough, very loose.

DEMONIC: I’ve always been used to a kind of rocking, looser feel on drums, so that approach never bothered me. But if Cazz played a part with a slower beat one day and then changed it completely next time – then yeah, I’d probably object. Like, ‘We’re not JETHRO TULL. You’ve got to play this the same way.’

GELAL: Demonic stepped in and said, ‘Look, we can’t have Cazz playing random shit wherever he wants. Let’s tighten it up.’ And those two formed a real connection, right? Demonic would say, ‘Okay, can you do that on the drums? I’m gonna go like this on my bass. But next time, don’t change the beat because you’ll fuck up what I’m doing.’

Several of these bass and drum collaborations ended up gloriously. For instance, there is an incredibly powerful, sinister drive at the beginning of “The Shitagogue” – it sounds like an impending doom on the march.

DEMONIC: In the opening riff, my basslines basically follow Gelal. But the second? Yes, I’m doing something different there – a rhythmic impulse that made sense and felt right to me. Almost all the music I’ve written has been the result of spontaneous creation.

THE BLACK LOURDE: I don’t recall the part in question, but “The Shitagogue” is definitely one of my favourite G.B.K. songs. Especially the middle, when it shifts into that slow, dragging section with the chain part… oh my God, so good. Demonic and I had a natural rhythm between us – things just locked in.

DEMONIC: If I could link up more with the drums and act as a separate voice rather than just doubling Gelal’s riffing, that’s what I wanted to do. I’ve always tried to regard the bass as its own instrument – and as a one-guitar band, I saw room for it to interact differently.

GELAL: When you’ve only got three instruments, the bass needs to be at the forefront. I played it myself on the first album, and I’m not a bassist. I just followed the guitars – which isn’t how it should be. It would’ve sounded completely different if we’d had Demonic in the band.

DEMONIC: I listen to a wide range of music and have a reasonably well-rounded musical ear. My playing style was shaped by bassists like Steve Harris (IRON MAIDEN) and Geezer Butler (BLACK SABBATH), both of whom contribute to the songs in a meaningful way.

Instead of merely shadowing the guitars, Harris and Butler help steer the music. Their basslines move with the rhythm but also weave in melody, shaping the direction of a song rather than simply reinforcing it.

DEMONIC: Even someone like Cliff Burton, who was obviously a fantastic bassist – a lot of his work in METALLICA just followed the guitar and got lost in the mix. I’ve always gravitated toward players with more of a presence. Even in something like THE BEATLES, the bass often adds this whole other dimension to the song; it changes the dynamic.

Did you ever try finger-picking?

DEMONIC: Yes, I actually started out as a fingerstyle player because I believed that was how a real bassist should approach his instrument. But with GRAND BELIAL’S KEY, using a pick felt more appropriate, so I kept at it. Regardless, my guiding principle is to play the bass as a bass – not as an afterthought.

 

Once everything came together, the trio began discussing their recording options. “Mocking the Philanthropist” was tracked in The Black Lourde’s attic; instead of going to a studio, they had the engineer bring his gear to them.

DEMONIC: I’ll say this – even though Gelal doesn’t like hearing it – I’m not a fan of the “Mocking…” sound. Honestly, it’s probably my least favourite G.B.K. album, even though the material itself is great. I just couldn’t get into the production; it’s too dry and flat. In the case of “Judeobeast…”, I thought a professional studio was absolutely the right move.

GELAL: At some point, we decided, ‘Okay, enough ghetto shit – we’re going to a real studio.’ And I think Drakkar really wanted us to. We’d never done it before, except for the second demo. I had no experience recording an album in a pro studio, but Demonic did.

DEMONIC: Another thing is that several bands from our area – DECEASED in particular – had great material but lacklustre recordings. Their demos were killer; that first album, on the other hand, could’ve benefited from a studio with a better understanding of death metal.

DECEASED’s 1991 debut album, “Luck of the Corpse”, was tracked at Oz Studios in Baltimore. At the time, the young establishment had only a handful of recording projects under its belt – but no metal.

DEMONIC: I know Morrisound gets labelled as generic, but their production quality was strong enough for a truly original band to still shine through. DECEASED had that level of uniqueness – it would’ve worked. You don’t need to reinvent the wheel sonically. Just get a thick, powerful, current metal production and let the music speak for itself.

THE BLACK LOURDE: Even I said, ‘Recording in my attic is convenient and all, but this material deserves a proper production.’ We ended up at Assembly Line Studios down in Virginia. That was a great call – the guy running the place really took care of us.

 

During the Easter of 2001, GRAND BELIAL’S KEY entered Assembly Line – a studio in Vienna, Virginia, that had recorded local acts like TWISTED TOWER DIRE and WHILE HEAVEN WEPT. The G.B.K. style certainly comes across more effectively with more depth and a heavier overall production.

THE BLACK LOURDE: As I recall, Gelal championed most of that. I usually followed his vision – if he had a set direction, I was on board. He wanted less distortion on the guitars, more emphasis on the low end, and a thicker bass tone.

GELAL: Demonic’s playing style required a louder and more upfront bass. As for Cazz – his drumming was fantastic, and you can hear everything clearly, so I didn’t need to concern myself about it. Generally, as long as my guitar sounds alright, I’m good.

DEMONIC: The bass tone was achieved with the same gear I’d used since starting out – an original RAT distortion pedal. I brought it to Assembly Line, set everything how I liked, and played through whatever setup the studio had. That thing has always been the core of my sound.

GELAL: Once all the music had been recorded, Cazz went back to Pennsylvania. Using the rough mix, we began working on his vocal arrangements, mapping out all the lyric lines – like, ‘Yeah, it’s gotta go there. At that part, you’re gonna sing this shit.’

“Judeobeast Assassination” features a number of truly inspired vocal performances. Take moments like the ‘Christ, faggot, fondler of manhood’ interlude in “The Tenderhearted’s Manifesto”, the “Doves of War” crescendo, and the chorus of “Pimps of Gennesaret” – everything about the delivery is perfect.

DEMONIC: I had no hand in the arrangements, but what I do remember clearly is watching Cazz record those vocals in the studio, which was absolutely incredible. One of the most astonishing performances I’ve ever witnessed in person.

THE BLACK LOURDE: Like my drumming, I approach vocals purely on instinct. I’ll have the lyrics written out and know where the lines need to be placed – but once I’m actually in the studio, it’s a different beast. Rehearsing is one thing, but when it’s just you and the mic, something takes over.

GELAL: I encouraged Cazz to experiment as much as possible. Like, ‘Hey, whatever they’re not expecting – you gotta do that. Scream. Pretend you’re crying. Moan. Give it everything you have, man. You must feel like you can touch it because our shit is real: steel, not plastic.’

THE BLACK LOURDE: A lot of weirdness came out in the moment: the howls, grunts, strange inflections, and so on. And if it didn’t work, Gelal and Demonic would go, ‘Nah, scratch that. Try again.’ I focused on bringing the grit, filth, and raw emotion – and since I could feel the music so strongly, it worked.

There are still the occasional subtle synth layers, but prominent keyboard parts where it’s intertwined with the guitar melodies – such as the “Goat of a Thousand Young” chorus – have been scaled back.

GELAL: That’s in line with my vision of being able to play live what you record. To me, if you can’t replicate your album on stage because it has fifty layers of bullshit, then you’re basically cheating. Our keyboard parts were so minuscule that it didn’t make sense to have somebody come to a show just to play an intro. So, it was naturally phased out.

Not only is Lilith no longer contributing, but she’s also listed as deceased in the thanks list.

GELAL: Well, she does appear on “The Hexenhaus Vigil” – that’s Lilith singing. But those were old recordings I had from way before; I distorted her voice so it sounds pretty eerie. The ‘Rest in Peace’ thing was just a way to unshackle her from any future problems; we could sense the storm coming.

 

In the early 2000s, vinyl sales were scarce, so bands would often include bonus content to entice fans into purchasing a copy. As such, the LP edition of “Judeobeast Assassination” – courtesy of End All Life Productions – includes a cover of GG Allin’s “I Kill Everything I Fuck”.

DEMONIC: By then, we’d adopted a total ‘fuck off’ attitude, and GG Allin represented this to the extreme. When GRAND BELIAL’S KEY first started out, we were actually pretty well-liked locally – but that shifted quickly after a few incidents <laughs>. Our reputation definitely took a dive.

THE BLACK LOURDE: I’m not a GG Allin fan, so when Gelal and Demonic suggested it, I said, ‘Alright, let me check this out.’ I listened to the song and heard the opening line, ‘I’m infected with AIDS…’ <laughs> And I’m thinking, ‘What the heck is wrong with these guys?’

GELAL: The song itself is ridiculous. Why would you willingly advertise an illness? The premise is absurd. Still, it was perfect for our position in the metal scene. It really felt like we had an infectious disease.

THE BLACK LOURDE: Once I’d heard the full track, I knew we could make it work. ‘Fuck it, let’s go.’ I mean, ‘I’m infected with AIDS’ – if GRAND BELIAL’S KEY can’t take that and make it their own, what kind of life are we living?

GELAL: ‘Oh, stay away from those guys, or you’ll catch it too.’ That’s what G.B.K. went through. ‘We can’t touch this band, can’t distribute them.’ Just like when GG Allin performed – no one came near him. Because he was covered in piss.

Did you ever see him live?

GELAL: Absolutely not. It’s not like we were fans of GG Allin’s antics; we didn’t like any of that shit. We identified more with his unique stance – banned everywhere, arrested, fined, thrown out of clubs and bars. All this ended up kind of prophetic in terms of G.B.K.

Ironically, the band’s first European concert cancellations were self-initiated. GRAND BELIAL’S KEY had initially planned to perform at the 2001 editions of Drakkar Hellfest and Under the Black Sun. However, they had to withdraw from both appearances due to scheduling conflicts related to the album mixdown.

GELAL: Assembly Line was a real studio that worked with famous bands and shit. So, if you booked time there, he’d set aside several days for it. I’m guessing we probably couldn’t reschedule without delaying the whole thing, and releasing “Judeobeast…” felt more important than playing a show.

DEMONIC: I honestly don’t even remember that happening. Talk of going to Europe felt surreal to me at the time – like, ‘Really? Touring overseas is actually an option?’ It seemed hard to believe. What I do recall is Cazz having a lot of hesitation about it, which frustrated both Gelal and me.

 

Drakkar Productions released “Judeobeast Assassination” in late 2001. A US version followed on Moribund Records a few months later.

GELAL: I felt Drakkar didn’t have enough reach over here. Back then, mail-order distribution was still primitive, with printed catalogues, and Drakkar just wasn’t well-known stateside. I thought a domestic version via Moribund would help.

How was it received?

GELAL: We didn’t notice any massive growth due to “Judeobeast…” – GRAND BELIAL’S KEY still flew under the radar. Over the years, “Mocking the Philanthropist” had developed a small cult following – but at that point, nobody in the States gave a shit about our new album.

With the demise of Wood-Nymph, was “Mocking…” even available by then?

GELAL: Nope. We didn’t have any copies, and no one was selling it – at least not through general metal circles used to dealing with distributors like Hammerheart and Rough Trade. Maybe someone in the underground would’ve taken it, but I had nothing to wholesale. That’s why the Barbarian Wrath deal went through.

Barbarian Wrath, run by the late underground stalwart Opyros, was a German label and mail-order. It succeeded Nazgul’s Eyrie Productions – a cult operation responsible for revered 90s black metal classics by bands like COUNTESS, BARATHRUM, MORTUARY DRAPE, and CRUACHAN.

GELAL: I didn’t want “Mocking…” to be hard to find. I mean, what’s the point of playing music if no one actually hears it? These labels putting out ‘limited editions’ of three fucking copies – why even bother? If you want to make something that obscure, just don’t release it at all. It’ll be even more exclusive. But there were a few things I didn’t know about Barbarian Wrath, such as his plans to change the album’s title and artwork.