Those nice people at Alchemy 1977 asked me to compile a review of the best metal albums of the past year. Anyone curious to see which unholy cacophonies rocked my boat in 2012 can check out my top twenty here. In the mean time, I hope everybody has a cool Yule, sinful Saturnalia, or enjoys whatever unspeakable, heathen rites or ceremonies you undertake to mark the passing of the year!

I like trying to get into the seasonal spirit every year about this time by finding the most tenuous or offensive attempt to cash-in on Xmas. Last year’s winner was Christmas toilet paper. I just liked the ambivalence of the idea – perfect if you hate Yule or indeed love it. (Anybody still stuck for inspiration for a gift for the man who has everything – I’ve checked, and Amazon now sell a whole range of similar products to delight the discerning Yuletide loon.)

This year I’m rather taken with Stella’s attempt to exploit seasonal excess by billing their swill as ‘crafted for Christmas’. I have trouble getting past the ‘crafted’ bit to be honest. It is, I suppose, crafted in the same way that dogshit is sculpted – sort of technically true, but something most of us would rather not contemplate. Crafted in the sense that a human hand is involved, if only to turn the tap that propels the raw Stella from the urinals, through the chiller, and into the kegs.

According to James Watson, Western European Marketing Director, “Stella Artois is the quintessential Christmas beer and this year’s limited edition, eye-catching festive packaging truly captures the spirit of the celebratory season.  Stella Artois is renowned for its discerning and pioneering brand activity, and this combination of exclusive packaging, high-profile advertising support and the innovative album download will ensure that Stella Artois is the top choice for beer consumers this Christmas.”

I like the description of their target market as ‘beer consumers’. I also admire the way their slogan is a ‘subtle as a fucking sledgehammer’ attempt to link Stella to the craft beer revolution, even though the desire of discerning drinkers to escape from dubious fluids like Stella is the chief reason craft brews took off in the first place. Yet I still can’t quite buy Jim’s description of his product as ‘the quintessential Christmas beer’. Perhaps if I imagine it as a slick TV ad…

Our hero pre-loads on cheap, supermarket-bought Wife-beater, before putting on his Burberry baseball cap and heading into town. There he goes to a nauseating nightclub to listen to Jay-Z and N-Dubz and drink more of his beloved Stella – this time expensive and liberally watered down – pausing only to grope two young girls, unconscious after the Rohypnol their last suitor fed them kicked in before he could get them into a taxi. He strolls unsteadily home with half-a-dozen of his friends, breaking their journey to assault some bloke they’ve never met before, who happens to be on his own and isn’t looking. Once back to the family home, our hero punches his girlfriend for something he half-remembers she might’ve said earlier. But not with the fist with the sovereign ring – it is Xmas after all. For the end of a perfect night, he drifts into slumber on the sofa in front of his 98″ flatscreen 3D TV, which is showing reruns of X Factor. He still has a can of his beloved Stella in his fist, which slowly spills into his tracky bottoms, pooling in his crotch as he contendedly swears in his sleep and soils himself…

Come to think of it, that is pretty Xmassy after all. Merry Christmas one and all! Ho, ho, fucking ho…

I’ve just signed a contract to write a book for Mandrake of Oxford, the UK’s foremost occult publishing house. The mandrake is a plant with purported magical properties, with roots that resemble the human form. The other Mandrake’s roots stretch back to a British branch of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (not to be confused with the Greek rightwing political party). The original Golden Dawn was a Victorian occult fraternity, that fragmented under the pressure of a series of scandals around 1900, most notably involving its eccentric head MaGregor Mathers, the eminent Irish poet W.B. Yeats and the Order’s most infamous initiate, the ‘Great Beast’ Aleister Crowley.

Mandrake of Oxford relates to a more recent incarnation of the Golden Dawn, headed by the respected occultist Mogg Morgan, who is also CEO of the publisher. Mogg’s particularly interested in the branch of magick often referred to as the Typhonian current, which focuses on darker aspects of Egyptian mythology, particularly those relating to Seth, the enigmatic lord of foreigners and the wasteland, an ambivalent deity some suggest foreshadows the Judeo-Christian Satan. I thought undertaking our new endeavour together was an ideal opportunity to have a quick chat with Mogg about his beliefs and researches into some of the darker fringes of human belief and experience.

How would you describe the Golden Dawn – is it a philosophy, a club? Or a religion or pastime perhaps?

An experience !

Are you ritually active – do you actually conjure anything from the beyond?…

Like radioactive? Yes pretty much so – I have an active inner life – mostly so at the new and full moons – although for the slightly sloppy this can be the “white nights”/“dark nights” – which is a more trad way of doing it. I often find myself working on the 16th lunar day – which coincidentally is sacred to Egyptian Seth.

Why the emphasis on Ancient Egyptian deities? I get the feeling the Egyptians might require them more than us right now!

 Funny you should mention that – during the revolution it was common to hear people speak of the return of democracy to Egypt after x thousand years. If they weren’t referring to the pharaoh then perhaps they meant the Predynastic time – ruled by the god Seth, whom many see as the personification of evil – but perhaps it was also about primitive democracy – an old epithet of his being  ‘man of the people’!

You’d need a very long scroll to do full justice to the question ‘why Egypt?’. Let’s just say Egypt is very special. Egypt is unique – sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll – it’s all there. Most people involved in magick, sooner or later, develop a special place in their hearts for the Egyptian magical religion. It’s one of the oldest mythologies and has found its way into every nook and cranny of the intellectual tradition.

How are your Golden Dawn activities linked to Mandrake?

 I started in the Golden Dawn before I began as a publisher – perhaps Mandrake is my homage to Aleister Crowley and his efforts at publishing. It was inevitable I’d end up in publishing too, as no one at the time would publish the kind of thing I liked to read.

There’s long been friction or even hostility between Satanism and the ‘mainstream’ occult communities? Would you agree – if so, why – and is that changing at all?

 Yes – there’s a problem because mainstream the occult community is on the defensive and wary of accusations of Satanism. The problem is really with the media that deals in clichés. Neo-pagans are also trying to distance themselves from Christianity and view themselves not as a counter religion or reaction to another religion, but as a religious movement in its own right. At same time many know there is an inner meaning to archetypes like ‘Satan’, something that cannot be explained to the simple-minded journo. So, for example, the worship of Lucifer is a secret tradition within witchcraft. There are also some Satanists whose antics can be a pain in the PVN – I’m thinking of some of the political stuff – where Satanism is associated with swastika brigade et al.

I get the impression Mandrake’s list has become somewhat darker over the years – with more emphasis on entities like Set and Baphomet – do you share my impression, and might it reflect any larger trends?

Really? I was thinking we were mellowing and reaching out to the huddled masses of the New Age! Our work with Mark Mirabello has been so controversial some pagan mags refused it a review, calling it the work suitable only for the sick mind! It’s extreme horror – cyberpunk – rather good and definitely delivers. Dark Funeral called it ‘one of the most unique horror novels to come along in a long time.’

Seth is a much-maligned monster and needs an intelligent advocate – such as Mandrake. Incidentally one of our very first offerings, Katon Shual’s Sexual Magick, featured Seth. So we’ve always been on the Typhonian side – although perhaps not rabidly so?  Just now is a very creative time for occult theory and practice, so maybe there is just much more to say . . . hence the raised profile?

Obviously, Mogg was only able to skate over the surface of a deep and fascinating area here, but for those whose appetites are whetted by some of the ideas touched upon, you can investigate further at Mandrake’s website… http://mandrake.uk.net/

In this, the concluding part of my review of the cinematic highlights of the Abertoir horror festival (for the first part, click here) I cover the other half-dozen films I enjoyed over the closing weekend. Among them are the strongest and most controversial of the week’s offerings. Indeed, no horror festival feels complete without at least one film that sharply divides opinion – triggering boozy, impassioned debate among attendees late into the night, long after the projector has been switched off – and Abertoir supplied us with a couple. I’d like to be able to say the first film I’m covering, Antiviral, wasn’t controversial, inasmuch as it’s unquestionably a very powerful, clever and unsettling film, though doubtless some didn’t find it to their personal tastes.

Intriguingly, it was written and directed by Brandon Cronenberg, son of David Cronenberg, the Canadian director who’s widely credited as the master of ‘body horror’. Judging by Antiviral, this apple didn’t fall very far from the metaphorical tree. Antiviral is set in an uncomfortably plausible, very near future, where fans try and get even closer to celebrities by being infected by the same diseases caught by their pin-ups and heroes, exclusive viruses extracted from their idols for the purpose by dedicated clinics. Our protagonist works for one such organisation, but also moonlights pirating particularly rare diseases from big names to sell on the black market. Matters get complicated when he smuggles one such virus out of the clinic by infecting himself, only to discover it might be lethal…

There aren’t really any likeable characters in Antiviral, and the setting is resolutely cynical and bleak in a grim, clinical fashion. It was also one of a number of medical horrors on over the week – anybody squeamish about hypodermics and such should prepare to squirm on a regular basis (I gather the numerous scenes involving syringes weren’t faked). With those provisos, I’d recommend Antiviral to anyone who enjoys skilful, dark, compelling filmmaking. It has something to say – that maybe celebrity culture isn’t just crass and moronic, but toxic and pathological – and says it with subtlety and chilling style: One of the best films of 2012 in my opinion.

Next up was a blast-from-the-video-nasty-past, in the peculiar shape of the offbeat 1981 Italian zombie flick The Beyond, introduced at Abertoir by its charming star Catriona MacColl. It was directed by Lucio Fulci, and initially enjoyed notoriety for its excessively gory effects. However, The Beyond, alongside the other films in the director’s unofficial ‘Gates of Hell’ trilogy – City of the Living Dead and House by the Cemetery (the latter also screened at Abertoir) – subsequently began to attract more serious accolades from fans who identified a unique, nightmarish surrealism in Fulci’s best work. The real question remains whether this hallucinatory element was deliberate, or an incidental consequence of the low budget, rushed schedules and problems inherent in a multi-lingual production, issues certainly evident in some painful shortcomings in the dialogue and such.

Ms MacColl helped throw a little light on matters. She recalled that she had long thought the scriptwriting was poor, but subsequently reached the opinion that The Beyond had started as a sophisticated, well-written story, but had suffered badly from a third rate translation from Italian to English. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Today, The Beyond elicits at least as many giggles as horrified gasps, and it’s difficult to believe it was once heavily cut, or even banned in many territories. Whether a torrid work of surreal genius or a happy accident propelled by exquisitely bad taste, Fulci’s masterpiece remains a supremely entertaining cinematic experience.

American Mary was certainly Abertoir’s most eagerly anticipated preview, and soon also became the most controversial, with much of the controversy caught up in that anticipation. For American Mary has been taking the international festival circuit by storm, an assault led by a relentless charm offensive headed by the film’s glamorous writer-directors Jen and Sylvia Soska. The self-styled ‘Twisted Twins’ have successfully launched a PR blitzkrieg, online and in person at film events, which has seen them soar from film school to the forefront of the indie film pack in just a few short years. The issue then, of course, is whether the film can match the hype – the answer, inevitably perhaps, being that it depends who you ask…

Most reviews begin by observing how far the Soskas have come since their debut Dead Hooker in a Trunk, which I saw when it first previewed in 2009. Being frank, I can’t agree. Dead Hooker… was what it was – a good, mischievous film school project that got gloriously out-of-control, but a film school project all the same. American Mary has evidently had much more money, and hence technical experience and expertise thrown at it, but it has almost identical problems. In common with so many first features, Dead Hooker… was way too long (though I gather it was cut before it as released on DVD), and American Mary could stand to lose at least 20 minutes. The pacing’s uneven, and the plot meanders unsteadily from one superfluous scene to the next, while character development remains largely indiscernible, as characters awkwardly conform to increasingly implausible plot demands. None of which would matter, perhaps, in an exploitation film.

But American Mary only thinks it’s an exploitation film. The real deal is more crass, brash, cynical and nasty, while American Mary is never as shocking as it likes to believe. Taking body-modification as its central theme was probably a mistake, as it’s not really been edgy or transgressive for many years. Adding a rape-revenge plot to try and keep things moving and suggest a feminist subtext just felt sort of cheap and sleazy – and not in a good or convincing way – though it’s bound to play well to the gallery in many audiences. As indeed it did at Abertoir, with many leaving the cinema convinced they’d seen a masterpiece. I left wondering if this was evidence that the world depicted in Antiviral – where an obsession with personalities eclipses our understanding of the quality and substance of products – was already with us.

In some respects, John Dies at the End proved equally divisive, though this time I found myself on the opposite side of the divide. Based on a cult novel by the Cracked writer David Wong and directed by Don Coscarelli, it was my favourite film of the week, and possibly the year. Coscarelli was long best known for the Phantasm films (1979-98), which like Fulci’s Gates trilogy combine surrealism and splatter, and to be honest I’d always assumed that their distinctive nightmarish quality owed at least as much to slapdash filmmaking as deliberate design. I’m now certain I was wrong. Of his generation of filmmakers, arguably only Coscarelli is still making movies in the 21st century with a distinctive style – first with the wonderful Bubba Ho-Tep (2002) and now with John Dies at the End – an auteur who specialises in blending the grotesque and absurd in films that generate genuine emotional resonance with the most improbable material.

John Dies at the End seriously shouldn’t work on paper. It has a plot that refuses to adhere to any demands of narrative or logic, let alone narrative logic. Characters may or may not be who we – or indeed they – think they are, while much of the film’s most important exposition is delivered via a bratwurst sausage. Yet somehow or other – even though explaining it to someone afterwards would prove a formidable challenge – as delivered by Coscarelli and his talented cast it all makes perfect sense on the screen. John Dies at the End positively fizzes and sizzles with fervid creativity, playing games with the audience that nobody should get away with – and I know some viewers found it disorientating to the point of exasperation – but I adored every demented, hilarious second of it.

Following something as unusual and frenetic as John Dies at the End would be a challenge for any film, and the downbeat urban chiller Citadel did struggle a little. Set in a horrifically bleak Scottish housing estate, Citadel is the very opposite of a feel-good film – a feel-shit flick? – which fits broadly into the ‘hoodie horror’ subgenre, where victims are terrorised by tracksuit-clad members of the UK’s teenaged underclass. Citadel captures the misery and menace of these neglected urban wastelands very well – perhaps too well as casual audiences may find the experience too grim and harrowing by half. The metaphors are laid on with a trowel, and I’d have preferred it if Citadel had been either more of a straight horror or a grotesque kitchen sink drama, rather than hanging somewhere in the middle for much of its running time. But this is undeniably potent filmmaking, using the horror genre to construct a disturbing reminder of the soul-destroying despair that haunts deprived districts in cities across the nation.

It’s traditional to finish horror festivals with a bang and a giggle – a film that combines uncontroversial quality with crowd-pleasing humour – and at this year’s Abertoir Sightseers was in the frame. It was made by Brit director Ben Wheatley, whose previous films – the 2009 gangster film Down Terrace and the 2011 horror thriller Kill List – had enjoyed broad critical acclaim, but left me cold. (Shades of American Mary mayhaps?…) I’m happy to be able to report that Sightseers is by far my favourite of his films to date, a very British pitch-black comedy that, to my mind, suited Wheatley’s understated, almost improvisational style far better than his previous films. Imagine Natural Born Killers remade by the depressingly homely Yorkshire playwright Alan Bennett and you’ll get some idea of the tone of this wonderfully droll little gem. I’ve noticed it’s playing at our local cinema in a few weeks, and I’m planning on taking my parents to see it. Now you can’t say that about many films previewed at horror festivals…

I’ve just come back from the Welsh horror festival Abertoir, and thought I might share a few thoughts on the films I caught there, splitting the report into two parts to aid digestion. I should emphasise that I won’t mention any of the excellent live events that help make the festival so special, and that I confess to missing more films than I would have liked. The troublesome demands of eating and sleeping tended to intrude, as indeed did drinking. To be honest, at times it began to resemble a boozing festival interrupted by occasional movies. On which basis, I name my personal beer of the fest to be Dark Side of the Moose. But I digress…

Proceedings kicked off on Tuesday with an old classic in the shape of The Shining – particularly apposite with the wave of haunted house flicks that have been made over the past few years. It was an extended cut, with most of the reintroduced footage being early exposition. The Shining made or destroyed Jack Nicholson’s career, depending on who you ask. The aspect of the movie that most struck me this time was how bad – yet simultaneously perfect – the performances were by the leads, Nicholson and Shelley Duvall (though Scatman Crothers and Danny Lloyd are very good). There’s little character development. Nicholson’s Jack is gleefully demented from his first scene, while Duvall’s long-suffering Wendy looks consistently on the edge of nervous collapse throughout. Yet somehow it works…

Resolution took us bang-up-to-date with what might best be described as a post-modern horror movie. On the surface, it’s a film about friendships and how they survive the passage of time – particularly when one friend turns his back on his wild youth and the other most certainly does not. Beneath, however, Resolution enters much deeper, stranger territory, playing games with both the characters and the audience. The strength of the first aspect of the film – the friendship’s very well observed and performed – helps sustain its more ambitious elements, and even provides some proper belly laughs. Ultimately, however, Resolution develops into such a fascinating puzzle, that it’s difficult to imagine any ending avoiding anticlimax…

Next up, another preview, entitled The Ghastly Love of Johnny X. An affectionate, kitsch satire of 50s drive-in sci-fi filmed as a musical on antique stock, it was never going to appeal to everyone. But there’s enough love and inventiveness evident on the screen to make it worth a watch. Authentically enough, the ‘teen’ heroes are all at least in their 20s, the musical numbers don’t outstay their welcome, and there are a few amusing touches of surrealism – such as the resolutely revolting rock idol Mickey O’Flynn – that help sustain interest. For all that, I suspect that the makers of The Ghastly Love of Johnny X are hoping to create a Rocky Horror Picture Show style cult, and such phenomena seldom ever happen by design.

Errors of the Human Body was an altogether more serious affair, though the presence of Rik Mayall in a prominent supporting role did raise a few inappropriate chuckles (though Mayall is actually rather good). A taut medical thriller about disease, immunity and the morality of scientific research, it was seldom short of gripping. It was also the first of a number of films over the week with a medical theme, suggestive, perhaps, of a burgeoning trend? If I were to pick fault with Errors of the Human Body, the actor cast as a sinister scientist looked like he’d come from sinister scientist central casting, though his performance was strong enough. I must also come clean, and confess that I missed the twist ending and had to have it explained to me afterwards. Even at this early stage the Dark Side of the Moose was beginning to take its toll…

The Mad Magician 3D was another vintage presentation, this time a minor Vincent Price vehicle from 1954. However, even minor Vincent Price vehicles are almost invariably good value, particularly when they’ve been put through a state-of-the-art 3D process. The 3D was very impressive – probably the best I’ve ever experienced (I could never bring myself to watch Avatar). The film itself is about a stage magician who finds himself drawn deeper and deeper into a web of deceit after committing murder in a moment of passion, endeavouring to use his conjuring skills to extricate him from the predicament. Price, as ever, chews the scenery with exquisite elegance as the titular conjuror, making The Mad Magician 3D on the big screen a must for fans of Gothic melodrama.

It’s become traditional for horror festivals to screen one of the increasingly demented exploitation flicks currently flooding from Japan. Truth be told, these deliriously over-the-top exercises in excess are increasingly victim to the law of diminishing returns, as the tsunamis of CGI gore and gleeful bad taste lose their impact, so clued-up audiences are starting to demand a little more substance with their schlock from the Land of the Rising Sun. Dead Sushi delivered, a sick action-comedy parodying the rituals surrounding sushi in Japan, as well as corporate culture and any number of stupid monster movies. Largely replacing the robots, ninjas and gallons of viscera now routine in such flicks with sentient snacks, Dead Sushi successfully disarms the viewer with its crackpot exuberance and sheer defiant daftness.

Check out part two of my festival report, going live soon, where I tackle the excellent Antiviral, the goofy ghastliness of The Beyond, the controversial American Mary, the weird and wonderful John Dies at the End, and the pitch-black Brit-com Sightseers…

What connects the images below?…

To find out the answer, you’ll have to come to the wonderful Welsh horror festival Abertoir, where I’ll be giving a talk this coming Thursday (8th of November). Abertoir starts tomorrow (Tuesday 6th) and runs for a full six days of horror previews, retrospectives and live performances at the Aberystwyth Arts Centre. For further details, check out their site here, while I conducted a brief chat with festival founder Gaz Bailey a while back, which you can read here. Hope to see some of you there!…

Anyone curious to hear Danny Robins’ BBC Radio documentary that played over halloween, featuring contributions from myself, plus the likes of Angie Bowie, Genesis P-Orridge, Dani Filth and Kip Trevor, it’s currently available on iPlayer…

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01nmsf3

What do you get if you gather a Satanist, a stand-up comedian and an accordion-player onto a rain-swept Yorkshire moor in order to try and summon the Devil on a cold autumn evening? Answer: A BBC radio programme. Hopefully… Last week I found myself on Hob Moor, with comedian and broadcaster Danny Robins and folk musician David Eagle, endeavouring to invoke the forces of darkness using only my knowledge of the Satanic tradition in history, Mr Eagle’s squeezebox, and a song Danny had written in his teens entitled ‘Kill Your Dog for Satan’. While I tried to explain that edible babies and lascivious naked witches were pretty much a prerequisite if you wanted any real chance of securing an appointment with the Big Guy From Downstairs, BBC budgets did not stretch to even these basics.

So, how did I find myself – yet again – performing the dark arts on the cheap?… To cut back to the beginning of the story, Danny had been in touch with me some weeks before, with various questions concerning his radio documentary on the occult in music. Documentaries of various descriptions along similar lines crop up on my radar pretty often in some shape or form, and the same tedious tramlines are already pretty deep. Same story, over and over, which – in my opinion – frequently misses the point. But I liked Danny, he seemed receptive to something different, and appeared particularly taken by my mention of the theory that the original witches’ sabbat might have been the medieval equivalent of the modern hippy festival or metal concert. And so the notion emerged to try and record an interview on witchcraft and music in an appropriate al fresco location with musicians attempting to add some appropriate atmosphere…

The two metal bands I first suggested as ideal for the task fell through for sundry reasons, and as our appointed rendezvous approached, Danny seized the goat by the horns, and approached a local folk club. They were keen, and everything was set – until they saw the website you are currently viewing. The Black Swan folk club were apparently not willing to sell their souls to the BBC in return for free publicity, or not at least if I was involved. As the old adage has it, never trust a hippy. At the very last minute however, using the magic of Twitter, Danny conjured David of the Young ‘Uns folk trio and the gig was on. Did we succeed in raising Old Scratch? It’s probably fair to say that there was less of the sublime than the ridiculous that damp October evening, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and tune in to BBC Radio 6 at midnight this Halloween for your definitive answer.

The antics on Hob Moor were only a playful part of a broader and more serious discussion on the subject of the relationship between the occult and music, and I hope something worthwhile comes out of my answers to Danny’s questions on the topic. Despite my oft-whimsical tone, I take my devilment very seriously indeed. Hob Moor is a location I’d picked with some care. The main entrance is by York’s old gallows at Tyburn on Knavesmire. Almost exactly 300 years ago – in the summer of 1612 – one Jennet Preston was executed there for witchcraft. ‘Hob’ is an old northern English word for devil, and there can be little doubt that sinister legends once surrounded the place, even if they are now lost to us. Standing there in the rainy darkness, it’s still possible to feel a tiny shiver of that arcane, bone-chilling darkness, even today, with the Moor now bisected by railway tracks and enveloped by housing estates.

Of course, we were largely just fooling around there on that autumn evening in 2012, though serious enough to brave some inclement weather and risk frightening the odd cyclist. (I suspect that, while lonely travellers who saw a strange group of people on a moor in the 17th Century might fear witches, the fearful suspicions of a modern traveller might lean more towards muggers or perverts – whether that represents progress is anybody’s guess…) There was also serious intent behind the documentary overall, and I suspect that a number of the views I express – should they reach broadcast – will ruffle a few feathers. I should emphasise here that I wasn’t being deliberately provocative. Rather, that if I take an interest in something, I study and consider it, and reach an opinion based upon the evidence, my experience and best judgement. If the world also takes an interest, the subject tends to become prone to the tides of fad and fashion. As orthodoxy shifts, I often find myself stood alone in the field, left behind by the whims of ‘progress’.

This blog is now becoming worryingly obtuse. While I could easily invoke the power of privilege – this is, after all, my stage where I say what I want – I despise the needy hints and evasive clues that haunt the Internet, dropped by lonely souls desperate to create a feeble sense of mystery and inspire unwarranted curiosity. Suffice to say, I express some unfashionable opinions on the naturally related – but violently divorced – topics of witchcraft and black metal. It has only ever been in retrospect that it has occurred to me that my views might be somewhat out-of-step, but in both cases once represented orthodoxy of a sort. As I make my wayward progress in life I frequently find myself a heretic, though seldom if ever by design. If I become radical, I would maintain that it is because the world shifts, not on account of any desire to deviate for its own sake on my behalf.

In addition to obtuse, this blog is now in danger of becoming pompous, so should surely be brought to its merciful end. I fully intend at some later date to expand upon what I mean regarding witchcraft and black metal, and the bullshit that dominates current perceptions on both topics, though I suspect that a blog post is hardly the place to enter such involved debates. Suffice it to say, the numerous ‘authorities’ who claim that traditional witchcraft has nothing to do with devil-worship are either frauds or fools, and that most of what passes for black metal ‘philosophy’ is little more than desperate, amateurish PR increasingly aimed at gullible teens and the hipster contingent. On which discordant note I shall conclude this scattergun missive, with the hope of a more coherent howl into the void next time….

Some of you may be aware I was involved in Sam Dunn’s TV series Metal Evolution, which charted heavy metal’s 40 year history on a genre-by-genre basis. Sadly, while widely-acclaimed, the series stopped short of its final episode, which was to depict extreme metal – from death and grind to black metal – but they couldn’t find a network willing to bankroll something that would inevitably be so controversial. This is particulaly galling, as in many eyes, this cuting-edge is the most important aspect of the genre today. So Sam has set up an IndieGoGo campaign in the hope that he might raise funding from the show’s many dedicated fans…

On a personal level, I’d love to see this aborted final episode. Not least in the hope Sam might interview yours truly again, allowing me to repeat on screen some of the rather unkind things I am wont to say about certain Scandinavian metal musicians. We could have black metal’s answer to The Innocence of Muslims! If you don’t want to fund a fine metal documentary, think of it as financing a sorry squad of black metal bell-ends to stalk me mercilessly to the ends of the earth. Or until their mothers call them home for dinner. Or they get caught up in the badger cull…

In just under a couple of months now, it’ll be time for Abertoir, the Welsh horror festival that has become an annual pilgrimage for me and a growing legion of horror fiends. I’ve had the great privilege to be asked to address the Aber crowd over the past few years, and will also be returning this time for a – hopefully – spirited debate on the essence of true horror. Now a six day extravaganza, running from 6th-11th of November, the festival features not just a packed programme of big screen horror – both new and vintage – but also wide range of other events, from macabre plays and chilling art installations, to spooky special guests and terrifying talks. When you add that this is all for under sixty quid, then it’s easy to see why it’s become one of the best-loved events on the circuit. For further details on this year’s event, consult the festival site http://www.abertoir.co.uk/  It’s the atmosphere that really makes Abertoir, though, a convivial week buried in the best the horror genre has to offer in the best of company. This is due, in no small part, to the sterling efforts of the festival’s fiendish organiser, Gaz, who, whilst very busy putting the final touches to this year’s programme, took a few minutes out to discuss our shared love of all things dark and horrible…

Are horror fans born or made? When did you first know you were a horror fiend – was there a specific film, book or suchlike that first set you on the path?

I think horror fans are made. Personally my parents have no idea why I enjoy horror as I’m the only one in our family that does! I think it’s certainly something that you pick up at some point.  For me it probably stemmed from my love of science fiction and the harmless B-Movies that frequently played on TV, things such as It Came from Outer Space, The Day the Earth Caught Fire and so on. It’s a natural progression for sci-fi and horror to cross over, look at Star Trek The Wrath of Khan for example – creatures going inside ears, dead people hanging from the ceiling – all wrapped up in a cosy Star Trek blanket. 

My first real horror film was The Bride of Frankenstein. I had failed miserably to figure out how to set the timer on our new-fangled VCR and it only recorded the last 20 minutes.  But what an amazing 20 minutes! I was hooked after that. From the B-movies and classic Universal monster movies, through to the Vincent Price / Roger Corman films, Hammer and then eventually to the more mainstream horror. This love and respect for the classics is certainly reflected in Abertoir’s programming; we’ve tried to show people how fantastic and influential these earlier horror movies can be.

Horror’s always been a bit disreputable – I know you’ve had problems in the past with filmmakers who didn’t want to be associated with the term so turned down Abertoir. Do you think a bad reputation can also be a good thing? Is it part of horror’s unique charm?

If people don’t want to be associated with us because we’re a horror festival, it shows a level of ignorance that is all too common in this world. Our audience are very highly educated, very lovely people who have respectable jobs in all kinds of industries.  Most appallingly, we were rejected a very good supernatural film the other year because the distributor was looking for “a more upmarket” audience, which deeply hurt us. I think this is inherent in the lack of understanding from people who are not horror fans.  For example there are a lot of very talented academics who take horror seriously and publish all kinds of articles and books on it; horror is a very interesting genre and academic study on it in particular produces far deeper and more interesting theories than other genre studies.  

I would say horror itself having a bad reputation isn’t really a good thing when you’re trying to convince people that there’s a lot of merit to the genre. Try getting funding for a horror festival, compared to a festival on art or culture… There’s a lot of stigma that horror fans just love to see people tied up in basements or being chased around the woods but as you know that’s just one tiny – albeit saturated – aspect of the horror world. In our programming, we always present some of the most thought-provoking and intelligent films that we can find. Maybe we’re fussy – we turn down so many films ourselves for not being inventive or challenging – but it’s important to show the world what the horror genre really is capable of.  Even Lloyd Kaufman commented that he felt Abertoir’s audiences were among the most intelligent he had met!

Where did this bad reputation come from?  I’m sure if Mary Shelly had written Frankenstein today it would have been dismissed off-hand, yet now you can find it in the classics section of any bookstore. It’s a culmination of saturation from certain horror sub-genres, offensive stereotyping of fans, and the incessant moral panic that permeates through the media. The sooner we can show that horror is a serious genre, the better.  Again, that’s why we love having talks and presentations in our festival, to give substance, history and depth to what is a very interesting genre.

And us horror fans consume far more beer than fans of period drama, so we support the economy too…

You’ve had some amazing guests over the years. Have you ever been faced with any particularly peculiar requests from your galaxy of horror luminaries?

All of our guests have been absolutely fantastic! They’ve not been at all nightmarish or diva-like as you do hear from other festivals, and frankly we’re not interested in people like that. Our guests are warm, genuine and here because of the same reason we are, because we love it!

Abertoir’s adopted Vincent Price as its official mascot. What’s so special about this particular actor that makes him so iconic?

I grew up watching Vincent Price and even from a very young age his performances have been captivating. I would say his appeal comes from the fact that as well as associating himself with some fabulous films, it’s refreshing to see an actor enjoying himself so much in his roles! So on our very first festival seven years ago, we played one of Vincent’s movies, and we’ve been playing his films every year since!  We were delighted when his daughter Victoria allowed us name him our official patron (saint) and to know that he would have approved very much of what we’re doing here!

One of the reasons I love horror is that I even enjoy bad horror films. If I’m honest I sometimes prefer the stinkers! Abertoir’s regularly screens a camp so-bad-it’s-brilliant classic – do you have any zero budget gems you’d particularly like to recommend to true connoisseurs of crap?

The horror film genre occupies an interesting place in that it’s one of the few genres where people also seek out films to watch based on how bad they are, and not how good. It’s an interesting question that has indeed been studied academically, and we’re more than happy to continue to fuel the fire; the list is endless! I would say, if you want a really good chuckle, my favourites are Pieces and Burial Ground. Wonderful disasters of filmmaking that are so incredibly funny on all the wrong levels! The latter being particularly memorable for its child star – played by a grown man – making incestuous overtures to his mother and proclaiming her “cloth smells of death”. WTF? Unmissable!

Finally, is there anything you’re particularly looking forward to this year? Any survival tips for festival virgins braving Abertoir for the first time in 2012? 

I’m actually looking forward to seeing everyone again! It’s great that we have people coming back every year, and it’s nice seeing familiar faces! At the end of it all, the audiences are why we put on the festival and seeing everyone having a good time is why we go through the stress of organising it every year!

 As for survival tips for festival virgins, I’d say go with the flow. We don’t offer multiple choices for films, it’s more of a set menu. Let us worry about planning your day: just turn up, follow the schedule, and have a good time! We don’t save the best for the weekend either, we’re six days long and if you can, join us for the whole event. It’s certainly well worth it and by the end you’ll have met loads more like-minded people, made some very good friends, and will be booking time off work for next year! 

 Oh, Pro Plus and hangover remedies are also advisable……