Medievalism and Metal Music Studies: Throwing Down the Gauntlet

This chapter explores metal albums as media, and their relationship to medieval media, as well as secondary media as a resource for reception studies. Examination of metal music as media reveals broader trends in modern media representations of the medieval in respect to race, gender, and cultural identity. Albums are composite object, using different media and secondary media products. The methodology used to approach these media and which elements of an album are examined in combination have a significant effect on the results. This chapter brings together three authors to discuss and compare methodologies and make the case for a combination of contextual analogue and quantitative digital approaches.

This chapter analyses the different ways in which metal album covers draw upon medieval media. The analysis is situated within the broad theoretical frame of intermediality, and more specifically view the process where medieval media cross the borders and find their way into metal album covers as media transformation. Four different types of media transformation are analysed, and it is argued that the medievalism of album covers can be defined in terms of media transformation. Likewise, neomedievalism is defined in terms of second-order media transformation. The album cover is described as a media patchwork, and the chapter gives examples of the patches in terms of relationship and properties.

This chapter explores how medieval signifiers function in black metal’s musical style, lyrics, and album imagery, specifically albums using woodcut engravings. It analyses how the word ‘medieval’ functions in ­discourses about those albums, including reviews, magazines, forum discussions, and YouTube comments. The analysis combines qualitative close readings with quantitative analyses of word frequencies, indicating which albums have provoked the term ‘medieval’ most. I then show which other terms are closely paired with it – descriptive adjectives, analogies and associative imagery, and various aesthetic judgments. I compare these findings with close music analyses to offer stylistic explanations for black metal’s enduring fascination with the medieval. Finally, the chapter explores how black metal’s associations with the medieval also intersect with notions of cultural purity and political controversies within medieval studies itself.

The digital humanities offer many new methods to scholars interested in metal studies. This chapter demonstrates two such methods, that is, stylometric clustering and topic modelling, by interpreting the collected lyrics of over 8,000 metal bands. This allowed the authors to identify general trends that would be hard to derive by personally reading lyrics. This analysis showed several recurring medieval topics in metal lyrics, for example, a Fight for Glory expressed with words like ‘die’, ‘glory’, ‘warriors’, and ‘victory’. The authors were also able to distinguish metal bands with medieval references from those without – a line of research that could help in categorising (new) bands – and track the stylistic development of bands over time. Such statistical methods might help scholars not only by allowing for large-scale studies, yet also by providing inter-subjective feedback for theories.

The chapters in the Nationalism and Identity in Metal Medievalism section consider a range of historical figures and practices as presented in metal music. Amaranta Saguar García’s analysis of references to El Cid in ‘The Return of El Cid: The Topicality of Rodrigo Díaz in Spanish Heavy Metal’ focusses on issues of nationalism and the varying representations of El Cid in a range of songs. In a similar manner, Annika Christensen’s ‘Making Heritage Metal: Faroese KvæÐi and Viking Metal’ looks at the interplay of medieval ballads and modern folk metal as part of the group Tyr’s investment in celebrating and articulating Faroese identity. While these two essays work with specific examples of national identities, Shamma Boyarin’s ‘The Prophet Himself Had Knowledge of Him: Nile’s “Iskander D’hul Kharnon” and a Different Kind of Metal Medievalism’ uses the figure of Alexander the Great to address the broader question of the ways that representations of classical and medieval figures define civilisations. Dean Swinford’s ‘Black Metal’s Medieval King: The Apotheosis of Euronymous through Album Dedications’ examines the medievalisation of Euronymous and its relation to black metal’s medievalist self-representation. Within this collaborative chapter, the authors explore the areas of greatest overlap in our explorations of metal music and medieval culture: nationalism and identities, neofascism, the whitewashed Middle Ages, and issues of historical authenticity in neomedievalism.

This chapter explores how, by drawing inspiration from Islamic sources for a song about Alexander the Great, death metal band Nile have created space for a more complicated view of the Middle Ages than is traditionally found in either heavy metal or Western medieval studies. Even though the historical Alexander the Great was not a medieval figure, legends about him were especially popular in the Middle Ages, and his figure in Muslim traditions was influenced by his reception in the Middle Ages. Alexander the Great is a transcultural figure. He bridges East and West, both in the trajectory of his life, and in the diffusion of his legends, which survive in multilingual and multicultural medieval versions. His story also transcends boundaries of strict periodisation: the medieval Alexander materials are as influential to current ideas about him as are materials from his own era. In this context, Nile’s 2009 album Those Whom the Gods Detest offers an interesting case study for thinking about metal medievalism. This study opens new ways of thinking about the cultural scope of heavy metal and how metal might contribute to a broadening of studies in medievalism.

The figure of the Castilian knight Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, better known as El Cid, is progressively becoming a frequent topic in metal music. This growing presence has been evident particularly since the explosion of power metal in the late 1990s, and the more recent rise of folk metal, being felt not only in Spanish and Spanish-influenced bands, but also in others with no known links to the Spanish culture. This chapter establishes how the choice of such sources influences the final portrait of El Cid in metal music and the message conveyed to and the effect on the listener. The motivation behind the choices above is explored with a focus on musical, socio-cultural and political–ideological factors.

In 2001, Faroese Viking Metal band Týr entered a Faroese music competition with their song ‘Ormurin Langi’, which was a reinterpretation of a famous Faroese kvæÐi (a form of European ballad believed to derive from the Middle Ages) by the same name. Hearing this piece of medieval Faroese heritage represented through metal music was not something anyone had ever experienced before. This chapter will therefore explore how Faroese Viking metal – through its musical and visual style – interprets Faroese kvæÐi, which are themselves interpretations of a Faroese medieval past. The combination of Faroese traditions and contemporary metal music does have a societal and cultural effect. What, therefore, happens when the local and the global intersect and create something that cannot be considered global, but is however not purely local either, as it is in Faroese Viking Metal? The interpretation of several kvæÐi in Faroese Viking metal does not exactly perpetuate the authentic, but rather it presents them in a new form and ensures their circulation and repetition through a more globalised and popular media and Viking romanticism is therefore caught up with contemporary sociocultural imaginings of Faroese identity.

Since his death in 1993, Euronymous, guitarist of Mayhem and head of the underground label Deathlike Silence Productions, has emerged as a kind of ‘patron saint’ of black metal. Moreover, the iconography of invocations to Euronymous in album dedications aligns the ‘fallen warrior’ with the emergence of a new Dark Age precipitated by the music itself. This essay traces the development of the trope of Euronymous as a medievalised king in second wave black metal, a now-global genre that grew out of the early nineties scene in Oslo.

In this chapter, the authors situate metal medievalism in the discourse on medievalism and neomedievalism. Detangling the ways in which historicity and authenticity are perceived and negotiated in metal cultures reveals how metal medievalism’s relationship to the past illuminates perceptions of post-modernity. The disparate pieces of the Middle Ages (both ‘real’ and ‘imagined’) form a bricolage through which post-modern meanings are expressed. Metal musicians and consumers use these fragments of the past as a means of collective resistance against the post-enlightenment, capitalist and machine-mediated present. The Middle Ages represent attempts at the re-enchantment of the present with a transcendent, organic, and carnal past. The meanings which are created this way are far from uniform or absolute however, but spiral between historical and imaginary, collective and individual, and continue to spin on in ever more complex permutations with no sign of abating.

This chapter explores the potential for musical medievalism within metal, exploring the ways in which metal musicians have sought to include ‘authentic’ medieval musical languages within their music. The medieval repertoire poses many challenges even for early music specialists, and the musical idioms of metal and medieval music rarely overlap, leading many medievalist metal bands to rely instead on normative metal styles with occasional references to specific identifiable melodies. The chapter focusses particularly on the American metal band Obsequiae, who have drawn inspiration particularly from the medieval polyphonic repertoire, which required creating much more oblique musical connections. Obsequiae’s albums feature acoustic guitar and harp arrangements of medieval polyphonic works, but their metal songs likewise adopt some general qualities of medieval polyphony. The obscure nature of the connections is likely beyond many listeners, but paradoxically the lack of obvious musical medievalism can also cultivate the appearance of a deeper connection.

Zech’s so-called Nachdichtung or ‘adaptation’ Die lasterhaften Lieder und Balladen des François Villon is one of the most printed books of German lyric poetry and has been widely misinterpreted as a translation of French medieval poet François Villon. The erroneous attribution of these texts has caused an immense amount of confusion and misinformation to spread in relation to the authorship of several poems due to the popularisation of these supposedly medieval texts by medieval metal bands In Extremo and Subway to Sally. Zech’s fascinating artistic fraud forms the framework for questioning how source material, which ranges from authentic historical texts through to ex nihilo pseudo-medieval writings, is situated between the related, at times conflicting, norms and traditions of medieval market music and mittelalter metal.

Black metal has the power to stimulate the mind, to bring the listener to the very edge of an intellectual nihilistic abyss. While the experience of black metal can be one of transcendence and annihilation, it is nevertheless rooted in the embodiment of the listener. Black metal’s primal sound and aesthetic are closely associated with the chaotic lower abdomen, including the generative organs and the bowels, which in medieval cosmology represented torment, melancholia, and demonic forces. Black metal bowellism translates this medieval visceral inversion into an expression of the Bakhtian Grotesque, a gleeful and anarchic rejection of the hierarchical order. This chapter connects this metaphysical inversion to a desire to return to an imagined medieval world, but one of dissolution and decay rather than a reconstitution of older hierarchies.