(no subject)
As promised, some of the recent that's Beijing "Ich Bin Ein Beijinger" columns, starting with last month's about the legendary Dess Maitou band Grave Robbers Guild.
The place: Beijing's notorious Get Lively club, where it's Metal Moshpit Monday and the heads, they are a-banging. The band: Daomuren Gonghui, the locally-legendary Grave Robbers Guild, voted Beijing’s Most Morose Band by SinoMetal magazine three years running. They're harder, louder, faster and far scarier than any band should reasonably be - even one that plays Dess Maitou, as they term their genre.
They stalk the stage, menacing and murderous, each clad in a black tee emblazoned with the undecipherable thorn-font logo of another Dess Maitou band. They're painted up to look like they've just been exhumed from month-old mass graves, as though what flesh remains on their gaunt faces and gangly arms might slough right off. Fortunately, it doesn't.
The relentless blast beats the drummer kicks out slam into you like a jackhammer shoved up against your sternum. The guitar power chords bombard you like a pulse cannon firing volleys of pure white noise. And these are but the opening salvos in GRG's ruthless maitou onslaught.
From above the stage, an inverted crucifix descends. Affixed to it is the Antichrist himself: this is Rot, GRG’s lead screamer. The moshing mass below surges forward to receive the Deceiver. They free him from the cross and deliver him to the stage. His palpable evil is not diminished when his mobile phone falls out of his pocket; he doesn’t smile as he thanks the pimply teen who hands it back to him reverently.
The Baphomet is tattooed onto Rot's shaven pate. He snarls. His eyes roll back, revealing only bloodshot whites. And then he channels the voice of voice of the cloven-hooved Prince of Darkness, who sounds as it turns out uncannily like the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. But Rot's vox is versatile: he shifts now to his other voice, the high voice, which is more like a demonic Elmo. The effect is chilling.
Two hours and a bottle of Nivea cleansing cream later - who knew that makeup was so hard to remove? - we drink tapioca bubble milk tea at a trendy all-night eatery while the boys do a post game. "We should have closed with 'Putrefaction,'” says guitarist Si Shen as he wipes bubble milk tea off an errant strand of hair. Si Shen is his stage name: it means "Grim Reaper," but his mom won't let him officially change it from Wang Liwei, and he can respect that, he says. "Which one's 'Putrefaction'?” asks Thor (pronounced 'sore'), their drummer. It takes a while for Thor to get it; GRG riffs, as it turns out, are hard to hum, and 'Dying Gasp' confessedly sounds a lot like 'Putrefaction.' Rot, Grim Reaper, Thor - the bassist, Li Jing, is the only one without a cool stage name so far. "Problem is we've already used all the good words as names for our songs," he reflects, and the others nod in agreement and sip their tea pensively.
On Wednesday we're on the 331 bus from Wudaokou, heading to rehearsal. Rot and the Reaper are talking influences. Reaper's into Scandinavian Black Metal. His older brother runs a business importing dried reindeer penises from Finland, and brings back CDs for him from bands like Mayhem, Emperor, Burzum, Dimmu Borgir and Cradle of Filth. Rot cites Impaled Nazarene, Christ Denied, Deicide, Elton John. I query them about the band's hostility to Christianity: what is it about Christian theology that they object to? It's not like it's a big force here in China, is it? Rot and the Reaper look at each other and shrug: "We don't really understand it I guess," says Rot, holding onto the overhead strap as the bus rounds a corner, "but we're definitely against it. And we're for Satan," he adds, and throws the horns with his free hand for emphasis.
It's not so much Satanism as death that fascinates the Reaper. "We think about death all the time," he says. "Like right now, I keep thinking, wouldn't it be cool if a Hummer crashed into this bus and took out like half the passengers?" Reaper is fascinated by Hummers and plans to buy a black one if GRG gets a record deal.
Grave Robbers Guild rehearses twice a week at the Beijing School for the Deaf. They've been kicked out of countless rehearsal spaces, but they've finally found a place where they're not likely to disturb anyone. Some of the hearing impaired students regularly come round to their rehearsals, standing so close to the amps that if they weren't already deaf, they would be. "Have you guys learned any sign language?" I ask. "Nah," says Rot. "We only need one sign. Hail Satan!" And as if on cue, they all throw the horns.
The place: Beijing's notorious Get Lively club, where it's Metal Moshpit Monday and the heads, they are a-banging. The band: Daomuren Gonghui, the locally-legendary Grave Robbers Guild, voted Beijing’s Most Morose Band by SinoMetal magazine three years running. They're harder, louder, faster and far scarier than any band should reasonably be - even one that plays Dess Maitou, as they term their genre.
They stalk the stage, menacing and murderous, each clad in a black tee emblazoned with the undecipherable thorn-font logo of another Dess Maitou band. They're painted up to look like they've just been exhumed from month-old mass graves, as though what flesh remains on their gaunt faces and gangly arms might slough right off. Fortunately, it doesn't.
The relentless blast beats the drummer kicks out slam into you like a jackhammer shoved up against your sternum. The guitar power chords bombard you like a pulse cannon firing volleys of pure white noise. And these are but the opening salvos in GRG's ruthless maitou onslaught.
From above the stage, an inverted crucifix descends. Affixed to it is the Antichrist himself: this is Rot, GRG’s lead screamer. The moshing mass below surges forward to receive the Deceiver. They free him from the cross and deliver him to the stage. His palpable evil is not diminished when his mobile phone falls out of his pocket; he doesn’t smile as he thanks the pimply teen who hands it back to him reverently.
The Baphomet is tattooed onto Rot's shaven pate. He snarls. His eyes roll back, revealing only bloodshot whites. And then he channels the voice of voice of the cloven-hooved Prince of Darkness, who sounds as it turns out uncannily like the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. But Rot's vox is versatile: he shifts now to his other voice, the high voice, which is more like a demonic Elmo. The effect is chilling.
Two hours and a bottle of Nivea cleansing cream later - who knew that makeup was so hard to remove? - we drink tapioca bubble milk tea at a trendy all-night eatery while the boys do a post game. "We should have closed with 'Putrefaction,'” says guitarist Si Shen as he wipes bubble milk tea off an errant strand of hair. Si Shen is his stage name: it means "Grim Reaper," but his mom won't let him officially change it from Wang Liwei, and he can respect that, he says. "Which one's 'Putrefaction'?” asks Thor (pronounced 'sore'), their drummer. It takes a while for Thor to get it; GRG riffs, as it turns out, are hard to hum, and 'Dying Gasp' confessedly sounds a lot like 'Putrefaction.' Rot, Grim Reaper, Thor - the bassist, Li Jing, is the only one without a cool stage name so far. "Problem is we've already used all the good words as names for our songs," he reflects, and the others nod in agreement and sip their tea pensively.
On Wednesday we're on the 331 bus from Wudaokou, heading to rehearsal. Rot and the Reaper are talking influences. Reaper's into Scandinavian Black Metal. His older brother runs a business importing dried reindeer penises from Finland, and brings back CDs for him from bands like Mayhem, Emperor, Burzum, Dimmu Borgir and Cradle of Filth. Rot cites Impaled Nazarene, Christ Denied, Deicide, Elton John. I query them about the band's hostility to Christianity: what is it about Christian theology that they object to? It's not like it's a big force here in China, is it? Rot and the Reaper look at each other and shrug: "We don't really understand it I guess," says Rot, holding onto the overhead strap as the bus rounds a corner, "but we're definitely against it. And we're for Satan," he adds, and throws the horns with his free hand for emphasis.
It's not so much Satanism as death that fascinates the Reaper. "We think about death all the time," he says. "Like right now, I keep thinking, wouldn't it be cool if a Hummer crashed into this bus and took out like half the passengers?" Reaper is fascinated by Hummers and plans to buy a black one if GRG gets a record deal.
Grave Robbers Guild rehearses twice a week at the Beijing School for the Deaf. They've been kicked out of countless rehearsal spaces, but they've finally found a place where they're not likely to disturb anyone. Some of the hearing impaired students regularly come round to their rehearsals, standing so close to the amps that if they weren't already deaf, they would be. "Have you guys learned any sign language?" I ask. "Nah," says Rot. "We only need one sign. Hail Satan!" And as if on cue, they all throw the horns.