“I think we should dress as goblins/trolls/elves on stage!” – Ellefson.
“Absolutely not, bro,” – rest of Emperor.
“Screw you guys,” -– Ellefson, now suddenly wearing facial prosthetics.
“Take the mask off dude,” – Emperor.
“NO!” – shrieking goblin/troll/elf man.
“You’re fired,” – Emperor, pulling back the curtains of their practice room window to blast the sun towards the unholy beast that now cowers before them.
Fast forward to 1993. Mortiis emerged from under the bridge/swamp/forest, and proclaimed to a journalist, “I do not look upon myself as a goblin, or troll, or elf, or medieval. I am merely Mortiis,” before then getting to work on pioneering the ‘dungeon synth’ genre. Many years and albums would pass, and along the way Mortiis evolved, eventually becoming the vocalist of a full-on industrial rock band as opposed to just a guy with dreadlocks dressed as a goblin/troll/elf on a Casio keyboard.
Fast forward again to 2018. Mortiis is now at The Bendigo Hotel as part of his first ever Australian tour, and the 300 capacity venue is sold out. As with most international black metal (associated) shows, it’s a strange mix of attendees – from hipster metal tourists there for the meme (me), and die-hard Mortiis fans who have actually risen to the occasion in their best goblin/troll/elf-inspired outfits (I wish that was me).
This isn’t the Mortiis that became famous for his camp Metal Hammer rockstar shoots in the early 2000s, and this definitely isn’t a rock show. This is era one Mortiis – a single goblin/troll/elf man on stage with his keyboards – performing an album from 1994 called Anden som Gjorde Oppror. This is video game loading screen music that progresses to video game end credit music. I feel like I am watching someone blow the cobwebs off a Sega Saturn console before settling in to play some forgotten RPG, except no matter what buttons you press the result is the same – a goblin/troll/elf man kinda just standing there for an hour.
A middle-aged couple wearing their weekend warrior Darkthrone shirts turn around and leave, looking like they feel more bewildered than disappointed. A guy in a Slayer shirt is removed from the venue after starting a fight with a jug of beer. A good friend of mine who grew up genuinely loving the second era of Mortiis can’t stop laughing, and proclaims “This is so grim – the wrong kind of grim,” before bouncing to another bar.
By the final moments, the crowd has thinned dramatically, but the diehards remain at the front of the stage, transfixed by the epic-yet-monotonous synth greatness, all while flanked by a bunch of drinkers who seem to not really know what else to do with themselves. I’m glad I came, as I feel like I have experienced something somewhat special, and definitely unique. All hail Mortiis.
