Archive for September, 2011


It was amazing how the band Infernal rose to the top. They hailed from New Hampshire, England but decided to ply their trade in the US, signing a five year contract with RoadRunner Records. They just came out about 6 months ago and topped the Billboard Charts with their debut album ‘Cocaine and Abel’ selling 1,660,000 copies in its first week beating even Lil Waynes Carter 4. This was definitely a record no band let alone a Metal band with elements of death metal had come close to topping the charts save the pussies like Coldplay, Kings of Leon etc.. There was nothing fantastic about their album but people just couldn’t get enough of it; fast paced, high energy with unintelligible lyrics.

They were headlining their first ever concert at the Yankees stadium. Tickets were sold out in a hurry going at $50 per head. The Infernal crew had this bisexual look: Long hair, heavily ‘mascara-ed’ Eyes, black painted nails. They looked effeminate till they performed their art, the lead singer Bryan Metro producing a strange growl that seemed not to come from him; the guitarist playing so fast, as if his hands had a life of its own, the drummer hitting strange notes that seemed off-key at first till you listened a second time. Ladies were turned on by Bryan’s accent. Teens started dressing like them, wearing eye liners, calling themselves ‘Goth’.

In an interview with MTV, the band members claimed to have never used any drugs in aiding the recording of their music but did admit they drew ‘Power from the Dark Side.’ Critics believed otherwise as the title of their album ‘Cocaine and Abel’ alluded to drug use. Religious groups made their protest, claiming they were evil influences to the younger generation. Rolling Stones magazine labelled them ‘The Metallica of the New Age’.

Concert Night

The stadium was packed, little room for movement, everybody excited they were going to see Infernal play live for the very first time. Backstage, Infernal were getting ready, pumped up and excited.
“Mates, this is what we’ve been waiting for all along. Everything we’ve done has led us to this point. This is the last night of our lives and the beginning of a New World Order.” Bryan said, driving the others into loud cheers and back slaps.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Hell!!”

“WooooooooooooHHh!!!!!. Yeeeeeeeeaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”
The crowd cheered hysterically for almost a minute.

“I bring you for the very first time, performing live on stage, INFERNAL!!!!”


The stage was ignited, the fire forming a large pentagram behind as Infernal came out.
The crowd went ballistic.

“Your Soul is Mine
I’ll take it to a Place so Divine
Your heart will Bust!!!!
Corroded till u fucking rust…”

The lyrics of the song ‘You’re Mine’ coming in a death metal growl meant everything said was unintelligible. The music was what heightened the insanity. Intense guitar riffs, drums going faster than the speed of sound, the sonorous chorus of the song in minor notes that touched unexplored parts of the brain. The crowd went wild.
Strangers kissed, bumping groins into each other to the rhythm of the music. Teenage girls screamed, tearing off shirts and forcing themselves to the stage.
No security, but the stage was heavily cordoned.
The invisible hands of the crowd pushed them back, fondling them as they cried in wonder and ecstasy.
An emo started it.
He slashed his wrist, his blood flowing, as he screamed along to the music.
It spread like wild fire.
Pain and pleasure.

As if spurned on by the lust of the crowd, the tempo of the music changed. Infernal became more sinister, the guitars and drums, faster than ever, stricking a discordant tune that coursed through the eardrums to the mind. Bryan Metro’s growls had become even deeper. His eyes went plain white, pupils rolled back in his head, his mouth closed while he held the mic to his mouth. The Voice still came from his closed mouth, deeper, menacing… evil.

The first scream was heard.
She was sucking on the tongue of her girlfriend when she felt the head she was holding give way. Blood splattered on her face.
Primal lust to primal fear in a second.
The mind lost its ability to process sound. Eardrums turned to liquid mush, followed by the brain.
Heads began to explode.
The madness spread.
Some tried to escape causing a stampede crushing those who fell to the floor to their death. The cheer of the crowd had changed from ecstacy to frenzied cries for help. Before the music stopped playing, most of the 50,000 plus people had met their demise, some crushed to death by the stampede, other blown to bits.

The members of Infernal were arrested, their album banned in 8 countries, their record company dropped them and they lost all their fans save the suicidal ones who were looking for a way to escape. Their album had become so taboo like someone carrying the Satanic Bible to a Sunday Service. They were sentenced to life imprisonment, prosecutors unable to push for the death penalty as the band members hadn’t physically committed the crime. When asked about the events, they all claimed having no knowledge of what happened that night saying all they remembered was going on stage and that was it.
They were rated by the Guinness Book of Records as the most Diabolical Band on Earth, beating the likes of Deicide, Slayer, Marilyn Manson,

Ron Metro woke up suddenly from his nightmare, disturbing his seat partner on the plane.
“I’m sorry” he muttered apologetically.
Same dream.
Its been six months since their conviction still he suffered from the nightmare. All he had wanted to see was big brother perform.
He checked his pockets for his hanky, touching a guitar plectrum.
Bryan had given it to him, just before his sentencing, making him promise to go back to England and begin his own band. He had also promised to use that tiny plastic in every recording they eery managed to make.
“You could even call it Inferno!” He had said, laughing but he knew his brother meant it.                                                                                                    His brother had always been the weird one.

We are approaching Heathrow in 5mins. Please fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing…..

Ron patted his pocket, glad the keepsake his brother gave him was still there.

“London, get ready for Inferno” he whispered under his breath, smiling as the plane landed.

In Loving Memory…

I remember being 14 and bored with life. Staying at a quiet town in Anambra for my holiday wasn’t helping at all.
“Papa, who’s this?” I said pointing at a picture in an obituary book I was perusing.
“My friend at Eziba” My granddad said, looking up from the newspaper he was reading on his favourite wick chair on the veranda.
I looked at the obituary picture of this friend from Eziba.
I compared the black and white pictures of his youth to the most recent picture he took before his death.
No similarity.
I rifled the pages of this ‘book’, reading through the kind words his children had put in.
There were a lot of these ‘books’ lying around at my grandparents’ home.
I was bored..a bored nerd.

Next year, it seemed the pile had grown.
More ‘books’.
More people dying.
“Papa, who’s this? He looks familiar”
“Its your grand uncle, Amanze. My older brother” Granddad replied, working vigorously on his chewing stick, on his favourite chair as usual, looking into the expanse of trees overlooking the compound.
“He lived there” he continued pointing vaguely to a place beyond the compound.
“Ok” I said, going back to reading about Uncle Amanze’s life.
And on I read, and asked the same question.
‘Your mama’s friend’
‘My brother’s wife’
‘Papa Izunna, the one that lives in the big house’
Their lives had been reduced to pages in a ‘book’

I left for the UK two years later, memories of my obsession with obituary books forgotten.
My mum came back from Nigeria today with pictures and a book.
Suddenly, I’m being assaulted by these memories of my teenage years spent occasionally with two old people who loved me.
I’m looking at this book sadly, staring at the pictures of my grandfather.
“Papa, who’s this?”
“That is me Chioma, that is me.”

RIP Papa.

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