Read an Exclusive Excerpt from 'Relentless: 30 Years of Sepultura'

With over twenty million albums sold worldwide, Sepultura is Brazil's most legendary metal band and biggest musical act. From their earliest split with Overdose in 1985 to their most recent album,the band has triumphed over desperate poverty, a tumultous internal history and various lineup changes. They have continued to tour, record, and release well-received albums for decades, and 2014 marks the band's thirtieth (!) anniversary. To celebrate that astonishing achievement, author Jason Korolenko is about to publish a new book, Relentless: 30 Years of Sepultura, that chronicles the band's rough beginnings, rise to fame, and continuing success. We asked Korolenko a couple questions about the book, and have also got an exclusive first peek inside its pages. Check out our Q&A below, then scroll down to read an juicy excerpt from Chapter 4.

Noisey: When did you first get into the band, and what about them drew you in?
Jason Korolenko: My introduction to the band came in 1992, when I borrowed (and subsequently never returned) my friend’s VHS copy of Sepultura's Under Siege: Live In Barcelona concert video. In the beginning, more than anything else, I loved the fact that they were so different than all the other metal bands at the time. They sat right on the fringe of so many sub-genres of metal, from thrash to death and even the sort of “groove” metal that was starting to come around with Pantera, but they were just so unique, all the way down to Max’s thick Brazilian accent when he sang. I hate to use the word “exotic,” but to a teenaged metalhead growing up in southern Arizona…they were exotic.

What made you want to chronicle the story of Sepultura? What about their story stood out to you?I’ve always been drawn to bands—and people, for that matter—that seem to get stronger in the face of adversity, and Sepultura’s story is all about forging on when the chips are down. It’s hard enough for any band to stay together for a decade, much less thirty years. And considering everything this band has been through? Even today the adversity continues, and still they show no signs of slowing down. It’s not just fascinating; it’s inspiring.

Relentless has the band's blessing, which must be a huge relief and point of pride for you. How did you initially make contact with the band and present the project to them?
I was working on a novel at the time, studying for my MFA, and totally burnt out and bored of the book I was writing. I wanted to do something bigger. The band had just announced their first US tour in something like six years; a large majority of the shows sold out almost immediately, and I remember wondering why no one (outside of Brazil) had written a book about them yet. I met them for the first time at a show outside of Boston, Massachusetts, told them I wanted to write their story, and that was it. I think we all forgot about it after that night. A year later, I moved to São Paulo, Brazil, with my fiancee (she is Brazilian, and we were considering a complete uproot from here to there). During that time I met up with the guys again, out of sheer luck, at a listening party for their Kairos album. We spoke about the project a little more in depth that night (even through the haze of many beers), and then it suddenly became a little more serious.

How closely did you work with the band members themselves while writing the book?
We all agreed that the book would not be an “official” Sepultura biography, but they supported the project from the beginning, which, as you mentioned, was a huge relief. I don’t think I would have done it otherwise. They loved that it was my point of view, my vision. I had pretty much open access to the guys for interviews, photos, and correction of facts and details. It was the best of both worlds: I had their support to make sure I got the story right, but I was independent and “unauthorized” enough that they never dictated what I could or couldn’t write.

How long did it take for you to complete the book?
In all, it took about three years to write, four months of which was spent in Brazil.

Why do you personally think that the music and story of Sepultura is so timeless, even after all of their lineup changes and perpertually evolving sound?
I think it comes back to what I said above about adversity, and the fight to continue onward even when the odds are stacked against you. It’s similar to what Joseph Campbell called “the hero’s journey.” There’s that same universal theme in Sepultura’s story—desire, struggle, and ultimately success—that connects with all of us, yet even success is filled with struggle and strife. But we have to believe, to carry on, to not give up. That’s why, of all the titles I could’ve chosen for this book, Relentless is the most appropriate.

What are your plans once the book is released?
I’m planning some events here, Stateside, and Sepultura will be in Las Vegas for Rock In Rio in 2015, so I hope to have something scheduled for that. The Polish edition of Relentless came out about a month ago, and there are a couple of other European editions in the works, so I’m also trying to arrange a sort of mini-European tour for early next year. As for the next book…I have several projects in various states of gestation: two biographies of rather well known heavy metal bands (that I can’t speak about yet), a new novel, and a short story collection with a multimedia element I don’t think has ever been done before.

The author with Sepultura guitarist Andreas Kisser holding the Polish edition of 'Relentless' Chapter 4: A Brutal Ascent

The underground metal scene in Brazil during the late eighties, as we have seen, depended on word of mouth and tape trading. This was not uncommon in other countries where extreme metal was taking its heavy baby steps. The tape trading culture was indicative of a closely-knit community in which its members were largely considered outcasts of society. They supported each other’s habits, each other’s addictions to music that sounded the way they felt inside. And in those underground circles, the fans and the bands were sometimes indistinguishable not only because they looked the same, with their long hair and jean jackets covered in patches, but often because they were both fans and musicians.

The mutual support system amongst these like-minded individuals is often glossed over. A victory for one underground band was practically a victory for all of them, and could open otherwise closed doors. But in Brazil, more so than anywhere else, the innocent creation of a fan club played a major role in the accomplishments of one particular band.

When dissecting the early history of Sepultura, it is virtually impossible to neglect the importance of the Official Brazilian Fan Club, fondly known as the S.O.B.F.C., which was inaugurated in 1990, and established a concrete home with the 1991 launch of the headquarters in São Paulo’s Galeria do Rock. Store number 452 became a sacred meeting place for those fans from Sampa, with others from all over Brazil—and elsewhere—making pilgrimages to the metal mecca. Covered from wall to wall in posters, album covers, stickers, emblems, flags, and everything else you can imagine emblazoned with the Sepultura logo, the headquarters frequently saw visits from the band members themselves whenever they were in town. The idea for such a club, however, had been gestating in the mind of Antonio “Toninho” Coelho, since shortly after the release of Schizophrenia. Over the years, Toninho himself has become somewhat of an icon in the Brazilian metal scene. Visible at every show worthy of note in São Paulo, always smiling and thirsty for a beer, he has been preaching the gospel of Sepultura since 1985, and pops up at several different points in the band’s story.

“The first show I went was in the same year,” said Toninho, “at the time they were touring together with Overdose to promote Bestial Devastation. The venue was a place called Heavy Metal Club in the neighborhood of Vila Carrao in São Paulo. The place was super crowded and Sepultura simply devastated everything. Overdose hadn’t any chance that day! They were harassed by the audience because their clothes were like glam metal.”

By 1988, Toninho recalled, Sepultura “had already conquered its space in Brazil, and the gringos were starting to notice the band’s sound.” So he joined forces with other fans, and printed a batch of special t-shirts that they all wore when the band returned to São Paulo to launch the Schizophrenia album. It seems so ingenuous, but no other Brazilian group had ever been paid such tribute before.

Djalma “Thrashão” Agra, one of Toninho’s closest compatriots, saw the band for his first time on that same tour, in Manaus, July of 1988. He explained the atmosphere of the underground music scenes at the time, and the personal character such dedication showed. “To be a metal fan in the 80s until mid-90s in Brazil was a very dangerous adventure,” he said. “There were skinheads and punk gangs always fighting each other and attacking metal fans.” On the bus headed to his first Sepultura concert at Olimpico Club, Agra was separated from his friends. Two gang members approached, yelling at him for no apparent reason. They were looking for a fight, and they got it.

Agra remembers, “My brother, who was a veteran martial arts practitioner, started a huge fight inside the bus. We literally threw the guys through the bus window and they swore vengeance.”

The gang sought their revenge at the concert in Bairro Matinha. They ruled that neighborhood, it was their territory, and they had no problem finding Agra and his friends. Advancing upon them this time with a baseball bat, the gang’s leader was disarmed, again humiliated by Agra’s brother. Had the police not shown up shortly thereafter, the night might have ended much differently for all of them.

Sepultura also faced some difficulties that evening. Agra remembered a few technical problems, and the band felt the power of the Amazonia heat enough to pause the show a couple of times to get some air. But everyone in attendance—even the group of fans who had brought a full-sized coffin—sensed that they were witnessing history in the making. Unfortunately, as Igor would later point out, violence was commonplace in Brazil, especially where large groups were gathered. While most came to enjoy the show and have a good time, there were always those who came for trouble or to steal things from people. These events did not go unnoticed by the sensationalist media looking for any excuse to condemn heavy metal music for being unruly and attracting undesirable audiences.

But the S.O.B.F.C. stood by Sepultura, defending their heroes— and themselves—in the face of all critics. Such devotion didn’t go unnoticed, and a connection was born that grew far more intense than any typical band-to-fan relationship. In May of 1991, Gloria worked with São Paulo’s city hall and secretary of culture to arrange a special free show at Praça Charles Miller, just outside of Pacaembu Stadium where several matches had been played during the 1950 World Cup. What was planned as a fun and peaceful event to thank the S.O.B.F.C. and the homeland fans, since Sepultura had been away for so long, ended as a dark day in the band’s history.

“I remember that day very well,” Agra said, “because I lived nearby the Pacaembu Stadium, and since the beginning of the day I could see from my apartment window thousands of people going to the concert, most of them carrying glass bottles containing all kinds of alcohol.”

When Agra arrived at Praça Charles Miller, he could easily see 15,000 fans—even though the Praça only comfortably held 10,000 people—and some police troops. The show was still a few hours away.

“The number of fans increased through the hours to more than 40,000 people,” Agra said, all of them desperate to witness a rare performance before the band departed on another endless international tour. “Being an open air and free,” Toninho added, “the concert attracted people of all tribes.”

“I remember too many fights around,” Agra said. “The atmosphere was very heavy. There was no security. Thousands of people, most of them young, carrying alcohol, with no security around … of course fights were just a matter of time.”

The crowd continued to rage out of control, more so even, while Sepultura were on stage. At one point the band stopped playing, and Igor stepped out from behind the drum kit to make an aggressive stance at the microphone. “I want everyone to watch this show without any form of violence, with a lot of peace,” he said. “This band is for peace, not violence.” But from the stage, no one had any idea just how out of control the crowd had become, so the show continued on. It only came out later that over a dozen fans were severely injured and one was fatally shot.

“I’d just known about the boy’s death the next day in the newspaper,” Agra said. “A skinhead shot the guy. We heard the boy belonged to a gang too, but we never knew the truth. The fact is that event had a very negative impact on the band, and it took years for people to realize they never had any responsibility for that.”

“The band, of course, never wanted to promote a concert to hurt anyone,” Toninho added. “But the press at the time wanted to see rock n’ roll involved in all crap possible. The audience was not welcome by the authorities and media. Anything that happened in an event of this size, obviously [the media] would take maximum advantage of the bad side. The death at the concert was everything they wanted.”

“The media was not wrong,” Agra recounted, “when saying the audience was violent, because part of the audience really was.” Toninho agreed. “All specialized media took advantage both to help [and] to damage the band’s image,” he said.

The media found their scapegoat. While Sepultura had always insisted their music was a reflection of society, the press vehemently opposed the idea. They claimed that the loud, hyperspeed music and antagonistic lyrics incited violence in the people. In later interviews, Max would go toe to toe with these journalists, pointing out that the band and the fans were unified in frustration. Sepultura fans, he said, went to concerts already pissed off that they were criticized for having long hair and tattoos, and didn’t fit the mold society had reserved for them. They were already pissed off that the government was more interested in feeding their own bottom line than in feeding their poor. They were already pissed off about the injustice, the corruption, the crime, the poverty. Like the artists during the military dictatorship who voiced their discontent through protest music, Sepultura were a megaphone blasting the anger of the people.

But the band didn’t get a chance to retaliate against the media accusations then. Less than a week after the incident at Praça Charles Miller, they’d be in the Netherlands to begin the Arise tour cycle, which would see them on the road for almost two years.

Following a couple of warm-up shows and a festival slot in Germany, the European tour officially kicked off with Sacred Reich as special guests, and short-lived Bay Area thrashers Heathen opening. The metal press—those who supported heavy music, not those who condemned it—was abuzz with stories of Sepultura’s already renowned concerts. At the end of May, to show everyone else exactly what they were about, the band recorded two shows in Catalonia to later be released as their first home video, titled Under Siege: Live in Barcelona. For the uninitiated who hadn’t yet seen Sepultura in concert, it became clear that this band was hungry, firing on all cylinders. The incendiary live performance made up the meat of the video, interspersed with revealing interview segments.

Gloria and Sepultura (and Sacred Reich) dove right from Europe into the aptly named New Titans On The Bloc tour crisscrossing the US, adding Napalm Death and Sick Of It All onto the bill. Despite a threat of lawsuit by the managers of teen pop sensations New Kids On The Block, the trek was an achievement of impressive proportions. Bands, crews, and fans got on famously during the two-month tour. In nothing but good nature, Sepultura drank all of Napalm Death’s Heineken beer. A pair of Japanese girls followed the band religiously up the west coast, never missing a single show. At a date in New York, where Sick Of It All was unable to play, up-and-comers White Zombie filled the slot.

Across America’s bible belt and the Midwest, where nothing much of consequence ever happened, Sepultura were—for many—a strange breath of exotic air. As their notoriety increased, so did the number of interview requests. Media and press were drawn to them and their accents, asking about the social injustice, the drug problems, the favela gangs in Brazil. The guys were well spoken, now with polished English. They explained that their lyrics weren’t always meant to target Brazil specifically, but to raise awareness about similar problems all over the world. Paulo, who detested interviews, pretended that he didn’t understand English so he wouldn’t have to do them.

A three-month break was in order during the final quarter of the year. In December, just days after the band’s first concerts in Mexico (bootleg videos of which show a highly out-of-control audience welcoming their Latin American brothers with furious passion), Andreas broke his right arm in a Jet Ski accident. The timing was unfortunate; Sepultura had been booked for the Christmas Metal Meetings European tour with Motorhead, Morbid Angel, and Kreator, to begin on the eighteenth of the month. Rather than cancel their participation in those six dates, Igor, Paulo, and Max went on with Korzus guitarist Silvio Golfetti filling in. Kisser was disappointed that he couldn’t contribute, but he commended Golfetti for doing a fantastic job on such short notice.

The band took another short sabbatical, this time for the holidays, returning to the road in March of 1992 with Andreas’ arm caged up in a metal brace and UK noise metallers Fudge Tunnel as support. The tour nurtured a friendship between Max Cavalera and Fudge Tunnel’s Alex Newport that would later culminate in a half-industrial, half-metal, all noise collaboration dubbed Nailbomb.

Indonesia, of all places, took to Arise in a way few other countries had. Fans there felt an affinity with the Brazilians, as the struggles they faced daily in their own land weren’t so different. Since earning its independence from Dutch colonialists in 1945, Indonesia had dealt with poverty and rapid economic change, political corruption and violence. The lyrics on Arise that pertained to Brazil, as the guys had explained earlier, could just as easily apply to any developing Third World nation. Including Indonesia.

And just like Brazil, Indonesia suffered from a massive gap between the rich and the poor. Millions of citizens lived in destitution and poverty even as the rich grew richer. One of these influential businessmen invited Sepultura to his palace for a private performance, showering the band with gifts, food, drink, and culture. This was a stark contrast to the concert in Jakarta, where 40,000 of the not-so-wealthy fans were descended upon by the police, struck with bamboo rods, and forced to sit in silence after the authorities deemed the crowd wild and disorderly. It was such a shock that Max stopped the show to say he was sorry for all the problems, and wished they could do more than just apologize. In the States, Cavalera would start fights with security for beating up fans. In Indonesia, he was at a loss… Relentless: 30 Years of Sepultura will be available from Rocket 88 Books in January 2015. Preorder it here.

Kim Kelly is chilling beneath the remains on [Twitter](http://A new book traces the Brazilian legends' roots (bloody roots).).