Theatre of Sorrow - Belligerent Dickhead (self released)
CAUTION: Smallish-scale own-trumpet tooting.
They do say that friends shouldn't review friends. Partly because friendship has an inherent bias, and partly because you could lose your friend. And your readership.
Personally, I think it's rather difficult to not meet musicians when you love music and hang in the same insalubrious establishments (usually smelling of stale beer and wee), which leads me to believe that vast swathes of music journos have, unbeknownst to the likes of us, given their mate's utter twaddle a firm thumbs-up.
Anyway. Fair warning: I've known Marduk Gault (aka Belligerent Dickhead) for what must be closing on 10 years. He's one of those extraordinary talents, with specific interests and broad capabilities, which is why I invited him into a band.
Over the years Marduk has introduced me to a bunch of musical subsets (which I expect you all know about, but was news to me), including a variety of “new” metal types, as well as flamenco. Gault has a brilliant and quite pragmatic knowledge of the occult, a rather disturbed sense of humour and has lived what I can only describe as “a big life”. All of which finds an outlet here in Belligerent Dickhead's first album.
I should add that the band name in no way reflects the nature of the music, nor its direction (it derives from a later hearsay description of the band Smallpox Confidential after our first gig). Second, the production of this LP is immense - I told you he was talented.
Everyone has expectations. And yes, we harbour quite a few about music. Everyone. So I try to put myself into a blank state before I listen to anything. A quick example:
A few weeks back Shaun C. Duncan (of the Molly Fet Circuit) and I went to see John Cale at the Hindley Street Music Hall here in Adelaide. The first support, Gas, played one piece on his laptop which went for an hour with a stunning film as a backdrop, easily the most accomplished and brilliant music/visuals I've ever seen. Music was very good as well. Extraordinary.
But he left me completely unmoved and I found myself fidgeting after 20 minutes, and realised that, first, it would have been better received had he played in a seated venue (such as the Festival Theatre), and that second, had he played his music without the backdrop, it simply would've been good, but not the sort of thing I'd put on that often. Better than a supermarket radio station, sure. And probably better to shop to.
The second outfit, Moin, paid equally zero attention to the audience (except the drummer, as they trotted off) and were, I thought, pretentious and self-important. Two-and-a-half really good songs and the rest pretty much reminded me of Devo outtakes, circa 1973. I was impressed by the bass and drums, but the dry ice and their “playing in our bedroom” look made me think of a much lesser Jesus and the Mary Chain. Also, if you must use sampled vocals, please have a semblance of a point to make. Perhaps in other circumstances they'd seem more powerful, and relevant, but not tonight. Again, I thought a different venue would've been more suitable - perhaps The Gov, because The Gov is intimate, whereas the HSMH ain't.
This was the third time I'd seen John Cale (the last time I was 23, I think) and I was pleased by how damn good he was overall (the bloke's 82 or somesuch, FFS). About half the set were older and unexpected choices, the rest from the last 20 years or so. A few extraordinary rhythms. He's chosen different vocal stresses on some of the older ones, and they still sound powerful.
And, however limited it was, he interacted with the audience. No dry ice. No darkness. You could see the man's face as he sung to us. The first times I saw him I thought he was brilliant. This gig was not brilliant, but it was bloody good; with the exception of the second song, the set was solid, balanced, righteous with several stone grooves.
Despite massive advertising, the gig didn't come close to selling out, and I would say at least a couple of hundred people left before or during Cale's set. You can only know what you know: Nirvana became popular because the folks hearing them for the first time hadn't heard anything like it, and I assume something similar for outfits like Green Day, and I suppose Moin, as well as other outfits like Amyl etceteras. As I've indicated, the intimacy of all three outfits was hampered by the big stage and barn-like aspect, not to mention the lack of grand flow and movement on stage.
This wouldn't have mattered if it had been held at either a seated venue or a smaller one (and The Gov springs to mind once again).
See what I mean about expectations? Shaun remarked that the acid test of any band on a big stage is to imagine them at the Metro (in Adelaide, which holds about 50) on a Wednesday night.
To change the subject back to “Theatre of Sorrow”, I confess that I'm somewhat hampered by my insider knowledge: I know 'Theatre of Sorrow' was all written and made by The Dickhead himself; while I suspect that if he'd had he access to a swag of like-minded metal nutters, the result would have been even more out-there and full-metal-jacket, that's just me. If you dig the “new” metal that's been hammering on the gates for the last 30 years ... give this guy a spin, or more.
Speaking of which, you recall the character Pyle in Kubrick's “Full Metal Jacket” (1987)? The one who loses it and in the middle of the night is found crooning drill commands to his rifle before blowing himself away? Sure you do. Imagine if he'd survived ... to make metal. The result might not be a thousand kilometres from “Theatre of Sorrow”.
Now, I know that there are many of you out there who more or less turn off as soon as you hear terms like “metal” or “death metal” (or, indeed, any one of the innumerable splintery sub-sub-genres). With “Theatre of Sorrow”, I suggest - give it a listen.
Sure, some of it will rub you up the wrong way. But not all, and that's what music is about. Australian Crawl were unique and interesting, but not enough for me to want to retain that first LP - I sold it years ago and don't regret it. What irritates is the way that somehow they've retained some gigantic commercial cache all these decades later, instead of (say) Sardine v, or the Laughing Clowns. Belligerent Dickhead won't find themselves on commercial radio anytime soon, sadly, but what they're doing is a damn sight more interesting, vivid and textural than anything (say) Russell Morris or Ross Wilson or John Farnham has done in ... well, like forever, really.
With many of the metal/core outfits over the last 30 years, you just know their lyrics are a bit of a joke, that the band are playing out a fantasy, rather like a “Transformers” cartoon; in other words, they present something which they want you to take seriously, but you simply can't because it's too ludicrous. Cannibal Corpse spring to mind; I have the same response to them that I have to The Living End, which is immediate laughter followed, not very long after, with immediate boredom. At least GWAR's entertainment is knowingly stupid, instead of giving everyone a cluster headache. Seriously, I'd rather watch roadworks.
None of this bitching applies with BD; for a start, the singer means it, every damned word, and his crunching guitars and menacing, throbbing rhythms, with all the poise and dynamic pauses you might expect - but often don't. His vocals are astonishingly precise given their sometimes sandpaper delivery. But, take “Empty Hours”, for example; the broad scope of this up-graded ballad is magnificent in concept, fully realised in delivery. I don't want to give too much away here, not really - the entire album follows a trajectory (or, to use that weasel term beloved of telly reviewers, a “story arc”) which, like the best streaming telly, drags you along in a semi-hypnotic state.
To say that “Theatre of Sorrow”, BD's first album, is “promising” is a considerable understatement. There is declaration and decimation, visceral references and grand-guignol noir amidst somewhat lovely - if grim - waltzes, all of which would not be out of place in a Netflix or Apple TV series. The opening two songs will be familiar powerful rock territory, but the songs develop crossover paths – “Eternal Echoes” or “Dark Overture”, for example; by the middle of the album you can imagine any number of bands covering BD songs like “Ritual of Severance” or “Void Walker”, or seeing the songs open blockbuster films or themes for (say) Stephen King- or David Lynch-based TV series. A personal favourite is “Where You Used To Sit”.
Here's Gault's description - or explanation - of what he is up to:
Belligerent Dickhead is a ferocious descent into the abyss where music is torn apart and resurrected as something darker, more twisted, yet still tinged with moments of beauty and ambient light. For over 15 years, I was chained to the rigorous world of flamenco, where the demands of perfection, intense focus, and the relentless grind of practice sessions shaped me into an accomplished virtuoso. Performing alongside dancers and singers, I was bound by structure, expected to embody professionalism, with every note meticulously rehearsed and executed.
But after surgeries on both hands and nearly three years spent relearning how to use them, I’ve been forced to reinvent myself as a musician. I had to adapt my guitar techniques to accommodate new limitations, turning what could have been a downfall into a crucible for creativity. Now, I explore not just the heavy and brutal, but also the light and shade, weaving them together into a tapestry of sound that defies expectation.
Belligerent Dickhead is the rejection of all that order and restraint—a savage embrace of chaos, where music is forged in the fires of improvisation and the boundaries of sound are shattered. Here, I am the ‘sound scientist’, a mad architect who fuses the raw power of traditional instruments with the brutal force of digital technology, crafting a sound so immense, it’s almost unholy.
This project is a declaration of war on the conventional - a ritualistic exploration of frequencies that shifts with my every mood. Each piece is born from a single idea but is summoned into existence live, right before your eyes, with no mercy for the rules of genre or expectation. Instruments and software become my weapons, twisted and redefined to serve a new purpose - one that is brutal, relentless, and unyielding.
In this world, nothing is sacred. Belligerent Dickhead is where the music bleeds, where every note is a battle cry, and every performance is a dark communion with the forces of creativity and destruction. This isn’t just music; it’s an act of defiance. Prepare yourself to descend into the unknown. Join me, and together, we’ll tear down the walls of tradition and revel in the beautiful chaos that emerges.
Perverse enough for ya? You should be streaming “Theatre of Sorrow” now.
