Four minutes and fifty-five seconds: In my Guardian column about critics not picking up on ‘social innovation’ I talked about Black Sabbath in terms of “pop occultism” that was around at the time, but actually that fits Black Widow better - at least their remarkable “Come To The Sabbat”, which captures exactly the blend of the kitschy and unnerving I was thinking of: witchy stories in IPC girls’ comics, pentagrams and boobs on sub-Wheatley NEC paperback covers, Hammer Horror, trickledown post-Tolkein medievalism, John Pertwee’s Doctor Who fighting a stone gargoyle and the devil, who is also an alien come to judge humanity (but of course). And somewhere behind it all the question - well, what if some of this stuff isn’t a put on?
“Sabbat” starts with its most front-and-centre spooky trick, a cthonian flute melody that really does sound mossy and ancient: allied to heavy chanting it sets the scene for some utterly committed maypole dance action - “discard your clothes and come on foot!” - all in the name of Astaroth. It is a very funny record but more than that it’s a really driven, groove-ridden, exciting and catchy one; it pretty much explodes the feeble binary of “taking something seriously” or not doing so. On the one hand, the goggle-eyed infectious enthusiasm of “Satan’s there!” in the chorus, and on the very same hand the brilliant stabbing woodwind arrangement. It’s also hard to escape the sense that precious few rock bands even in 1970 believed in their material with the same absurd intensity Black Widow display here. Ridicule, as ever, is nothing to be scared of.
What would your 4’55” track be?
I have met a lot of people in my time who had nothing but scorn for my appreciation of horror fiction, especially horror movies. They think it’s absurd for me to be able, or even willing, to suspend disbelief, especially with lower-budget movies that use obviously fake special effects. I think the difference between me and people like this is that I want to believe. I walk into movies like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Deep Red, or The Ring wanting to be scared, in the same way that I walk into comedies hoping to laugh. A lot of people seem to think that being open to scares, in particular, makes them weak, that they have to approach any horror movie like it’s a battle between themselves and the filmmakers, and they’ll win if they don’t get scared. I’ve even met other horror fans with this same attitude, who act like the only thing to enjoy in horror movies is the relative realism of gore effects. These people are all missing out, and I think they’d probably miss out on something like this Black Widow song, too.
I first learned about Black Widow from reading Michael Moynihan’s Lords Of Chaos. About a third of the way through the book, he starts nattering on about Nazi-ism and medieval European folklore, and I always get bored and zone out, but the first third of the book, which focuses on the musical roots of black metal, is fascinating. Unlike Black Sabbath, Moynihan explains, Black Widow were openly Satanic, and approached Satanism from a sort of arcadian pagan perspective (similar, I later learned, to what Comus were doing around the same time). It sounded worth hearing, so I downloaded it, and thought it was awesome. It wasn’t until quite a while later, when discussing Black Widow with other well-read metalheads and psych fans who had heard them, that I discovered that many people found them laughable. Indeed, it seems so obviously ridiculous to so many people that Tom Ewing, in the original post that I am quoting, felt no need to elaborate on how “Come To The Sabbat” is “a very funny record.” And yeah, once that was clearly pointed out to me, I could see it. But again, I’ve never understood people who approach potentially frightening art with this attitude. “Come To The Sabbat” is a legitimately good song, as Ewing points out, and it’s from a legitimately good album (I might actually like “Attack Of The Demon” better than “Come To The Sabbat,” and “Sacrifice” is just as good). In light of that, I don’t understand approaching the creepier elements of this and other Black Widow songs with the intent of poking holes in the atmosphere they create, reacting to its attempt to entertain you as if it’s a battle of wills that you must win. When people take this same approach to movies like Citizen Kane or Apocalypse Now, the majority rolls their eyes, and rightly so. Only in the world of horror fiction do people see closing themselves off to the potential effects of a piece of art as the proper approach. It’s a waste of energy, and in pursuit of a bad time, which seems even sillier. Stop fighting it, people. Just let the record scare you if it’s gonna scare you. You’ll enjoy it more that way.
