Annons
Annons
He claimed that he was an alien sent from the constellation of Orion to help save mankind and to prepare the good people of Earth for intergalactic warfare, like he was an extraterrestrial Second Coming. "I believe I am from Orion," he said, "but I am proud to be here on Earth completing this mission."He talked to me for three hours about his belief system, which was a mixture of the rapture, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Blade Runner, Battlefield Earth and St John's Book of Revelation. In fact, he talked to me for so long that someone had to come and get him because the band were due on stage and were waiting for him in the wings. It came as very little surprise to hear that once, while a high school drug dealer, Sid had eaten a blotter sheet of 75 tabs of LSD during one evening. He phoned me the next day apologising for not showing me the tattoo which had revealed his purpose to him. It was of the World Trade Center on fire. A tattoo he says he got done in August of 2001.READ ON NOISEY: How the Hell Are Slipknot So Successful?
Annons
An excerpt from the audiobook of John Doran's memoir, Jolly LadAround the same time I interviewed Sid Wilson, one of my regular Metal Hammer jobs was writing the demos column. One day a CD-R bearing the name *Marie Antoinette, written in spiky, Slayer-style, felt tip lettering, was given to me by the magazine. The music was unbelievably basic. On one track I heard the lyrics "You're a fucking disgrace to your fucking race" and what sounded like some other throwback boot boy stuff about murdering "fags", and dashed off a bracing zero out of ten review.A few months later, another parcel arrived at the magazine offices for me. Marie Antoinette had self-released two singles, one called "Why Don't You Stick This CD Up Your Arse John Doran, You Sarcastic Little Creep" and another with the more prosaic title "We Hate You John Doran". They were accompanied by an ominous-looking C90. The tape was part biography, part death threat and, most uncomfortably, part session in the psychiatrist's chair. Marie Antoinette were a Great Yarmouth-based punk metal band with one member, Sauron V, who sang and played guitar. The tape contained the first of very many death threats he would make against me: "You know, I've been really depressed since your review. I haven't been this depressed since the last time I was in prison for assault. I'm going to find you and break your fucking head open. I'm going to kill you."
Annons
Annons
Annons
Annons
There is a stage beyond fight or flight: terror so pure it mimics serenity. It was in this fugue state that Arabrot and I took to the stage that night. Because I was literally above and beyond caring, I read the passage from my book about Sauron V. "Whatever happens tonight," I reasoned to myself, "will either end very badly or provide me with something else to write about."As Arabrot's doom-ridden riffs clanged round the basement – as we filled the venue with controlled feedback and machine noise – I intoned passages about alcohol, madness, drugs and redemption. I could feel a presence in the room, a hulking solidity to the shadows at the rear of the venue by the cigarette machine where the purple pools of light gave way to the impenetrable onyx. But when the house lights came up there was no one there – either I'd imagined it or they had left. We loaded out of the venue in record time and hit the road immediately, despite the fact the main act that night, Sly and the Family Drone, are one of my favourite live bands in the whole world and I'd been looking forward to watching them play all week.We flew down the A47 like we were clinging to a rocket, listening to Slayer albums at full volume, gabbling like a bunch of four-year-olds. We were checked into a Travelodge just outside of Leicester and fast asleep before it even turned 02:00.Going on tour was great. One of the best experiences of my life. But still, I knew I was little more than a tourist and very soon it would be time to go home.As a postscript I need to apologise to someone, and that person is Sauron V – what I perceived to be hateful and violent lyrical concerns notwithstanding. I've repeated my story about him as a pub anecdote many times over since our run-in, but it took the painstakingly repetitive process of editing a book and recording of an audiobook to get it through my thick skull that none of it was funny. There is nothing amusing about extreme violence, psychiatric hospitals, mental illness, obsession, depression and revenge; and I regret my role smirking at it all. In the unlikely event he's reading, I'd like to offer a sincere apology for that much at least. Arabrot and myself are planning another English tour for 2017 or 2018, and maybe it's nothing more than a ridiculous daydream, but even from my position as a middle-aged man, I can sense that there's still time left to rescue something creative from this whole horrific mess when we roll back through Great Yarmouth next time. There is always time for all of us to make things right.*Names and locations have been changed.The audiobook of John Doran's memoir about his recovery from alcoholism, habitual drug use and mental illness, Jolly Lad, which based on his Menk column for VICE, is out now. You can "pick up" a copy from Audible by clicking on this link. Otherwise, Amazon and iTunes also have it.