I Named My Son After Varg Vikernes

Equal doses of dark humor and human drama coming up, because what are we without the capacity to find joy in the darkest of times? Politically correct.

Sorin Kristian

My Little Metalhead

Any proper couple with metal, goth, geek and generally unusual leanings must have the most unique name for their offspring. My boyfriend and I refrained from deciding on a name until late in my pregnancy; indeed, I played around with several name combinations a week before the baby’s birthday. On September 24, 2011, Sorin Kristian (because every boy must have two first names) plopped out after three-and-a-half hours of labor, easy peasy. The epidural catheter almost messed up my QR code tramp stamp, and I had a couple of nurses and interns remarking on my tattoo through the haze of local anesthesia.

Blacker Than the Blackest Black Times Infinity

Here is a winding, lengthy tome about my continuing musical evolution, currently defined by the darkest of all music genres, metal.

Abbath Does Matrix Bullet Time While Horgh Encourages Him

Music In the Womb

It all started in the family.

I was exposed to metal at the tender age of five or something, when I sang “Sweet Child O’ Mine” whilst my uncle played the lead guitar accompaniment. It helped a lot that the boys’ room was plastered by old-school posters of James Hetfield and the gang. My uncle’s rabble-rousing, loud band of college friends came over to our house for some beer and shredding, and he would headbang repeatedly, Slash-like curls of black hair bouncing around in sonic oblivion. The grating sound of guitars and the thumping, wild drumming fascinated me; the rest of the time it gave me associative nightmares like seeing your aunties having their brains microwaved for consumption by insane metal brothers.