Today is the official release day of Decibel Books’ f Born Human: The Life and Music of Death’s Chuck Schuldiner, and to celebrate Decibel is proud to reveal a new excerpt from the nearly 500-page biography of the Death’s visionary founder, authored by esteemed extreme metal author David E. Gehlke. The following passage transports readers back to 1985 as a young Chuck uses his tape-trading connections to relocate across the country to find like-minded musicians to resurrect Death with a new lineup.
————
Chuck told his family and friends that he wanted to go to California to pursue his musical dreams. By the mid-1980s, many bands had flocked west in hopes of securing a record deal. Chuck had similar goals. He was interested in a contract with Metal Blade Records, but above all else, he needed band members for Death. The abrupt dissolution of the first full Death lineup, which included Kam Lee, Scott Carlson and Matt Olivo, combined with a number of local musicians, left him without many options. It was either that he slowly rotted away in Altamonte Springs or that he followed through on his promise. In September 1985, Chuck was indeed going to California.
Chuck had already put in the work post-Lee, Carlson and Olivo, inquiring with his tape-trading contacts about possible new band situations in any state other than Florida. He was primarily helped by the fact that Death was now very much a force within the metal underground due to their high volume of in-circulation demos. Chuck’s enthusiasm for the scene and dedication to Death were the leading indicators that he was serious and not just floating a pipe dream to escape his hometown. His dissatisfaction with Orlando was often reflected in his correspondence, where he usually hammered his point that “Florida sucks.” It was something that Possessed fan club president Krystal Mahoney learned quickly during her multiple interactions with Chuck, both over the phone and by letter, as 1985 progressed. Aware that Possessed was Chuck’s favorite band and willing to go to great lengths for Death, Mahoney started making the rounds for him with hopes of finding a band for Chuck out west. She even offered Chuck, free of charge, the chance to crash at her home in Antioch, located in the East Bay region of San Francisco.
One of the first people Mahoney directed to Chuck was the recently departed D.R.I. (Dirty Rotten Imbeciles) drummer Eric Brecht. Leaving the band he co-founded with his brother, Kurt, Brecht jumped ship from the crossover thrashers in the fall of 1984. Eric Brecht was assertively not a death metal drummer, but he had experience. He could also play fast, one of the few requirements the increasingly desperate Chuck provided to Mahoney for the search. Brecht was already jamming with local Bay Area punk rock guitarist Erik Meade when Chuck reached out, resulting in a package deal that immediately gave Chuck a revamped Death lineup once Meade agreed to switch to bass.
Bird’s the word: Chuck with this B.C. Rich Mockingbird/Stealth hybrid. The guitar would last him well into the decade
While Brecht and Meade awaited Chuck’s arrival, so did Sven “Nik” Dessle, one of his Bay Area pen pals. After seeing a write-up about Mantas in the Guillotine fanzine, Dessle wrote a letter to Chuck and requested a demo tape. Chuck provided a tape, a lengthy response that included his now-common gripes about the Florida metal scene, as well as his home phone number. Dessle started a long-distance friendship that traversed the Mantas-to-Death name change, the demise of the Chuck/Lee/Carlson/Olivo version of the band and his gradual interest in latching onto a scene to jumpstart his career.
Dessle was a few years younger than Chuck and was immersed in the Bay Area metal scene, which was full speed ahead in 1985 after Metallica broke through. Dessle told Chuck that some of the remaining bands—Possessed, Death Angel, Exodus and Sacrilege—had followings large enough to help Death tap into an entirely new and more dedicated audience. “Through these conversations, I was half-jokingly saying, like, ‘Oh, you should come out here,’” says Dessle. “I don’t know if Chuck was joking as well at first, but he said, ‘Yes, I want to move out there.’ Then, one day, he called and was like, ‘Hey, man, I’m coming out to California.’ I was just going, ‘What? Awesome! How’s this happening?’ It was all because of Krystal.”
With a place to stay and bandmates confirmed, Chuck and his parents made flight arrangements. Now 18, Chuck was an adult and no longer required the permission of Mal and Jane for such travel. However, he very much sought their approval and received it, no strings attached, unlike when he dropped out of high school. This time, there was no Plan B. “Chuck’s mother and I found it easy to go along with his idea of moving to California,” says Mal. “We already knew he wasn’t going to college, and his heart was set on doing the band. He was so incredibly motivated, and we trusted him.”
Chuck’s trip to the Bay Area would mark the first time he had gone west or even been in a different time zone. The Schuldiners had no idea what Chuck was getting into, and his westward voyage was particularly difficult on Jane, who did not want to see him go. It was a mild relief to Chuck’s parents that he was staying with someone as responsible as Mahoney, who had built a reputation as a sort of den mother for the Bay Area metal scene. Mahoney’s home was the go-to place to party and crash for the likes of Exodus, Hirax, Metallica and Possessed, each of which took significant liberties in “reorganizing” her furniture and raiding her refrigerator. None of this was of consequence—Mahoney rarely batted an eye at such antics and continued to hold down her role as host, grocery shopper, driver and scene supporter. Her house also doubled as the central dope-dealing post for Chuck’s heroes in Possessed.
The Mahoney pad was unlike anything Chuck had ever witnessed when he arrived in Antioch that September. The clean, comfortable and safe environs of Citrus Street in Altamonte Springs were swapped out by the faint stench of beer and vomit, coupled with the stacks of mail and tapes that Mahoney kept around the house for Possessed band business. Chuck first set up on Mahoney’s couch, then later procured a mattress in one of her upstairs bedrooms. He brought only his knock-off B.C. Mockingbird/Rich Bich hybrid guitar, Peavey 2×12 combo amplifier and a bag of clothing. Mal and Jane lent him enough money for a few weeks’ worth of food. Mahoney did not charge Chuck for rent, although she had lightly indicated that he would eventually be expected to contribute, unaware that Chuck had no intention of ever getting a job.
Within days of staying at Mahoney’s, Chuck mailed a letter back home, thanking his parents for supporting him. Jane then quickly framed the letter as a token of her son’s appreciation. Shortly thereafter, Mal wrote back:
Dear Chuck,
We all miss you very much, even Bethann. We are all hoping that everything goes great for you out there. You should have received your radio by now. If you have any problems with it, let me know. Have you eaten at Original Joe’s or David’s Delicatessen? Have you been on the cable cars? Have you seen Golden Gate Park? How are the California blondes?
Love,
Dad
Possessed bassist/vocalist Jeff Becerra was a frequent visitor to Mahoney’s place, helping with fan club activity and scoring drugs. A few days into Chuck’s stay at Mahoney’s, the two budding, fresh-faced death metal visionaries met in person for the first time. “Chuck was sitting on the couch playing his B.C. Rich,” says Becerra. “He was like a super fanboy toward me. I wish we had taken him more seriously, but even that day, the first time I met him, he was bugging me to watch him play riffs on the couch, but I was only concerned with dope. I was like, ‘Fuck. This dude is shredding like a riff master.’ I then did a line of speed and watched him play his guitar unplugged. It all happened really fast.”
Chuck [strumming furiously]: Do you like this riff?
Becerra [after another bump of speed]: I do!
Chuck [strumming even more furiously]: How about this one?
Becerra [trying to collect himself]: Dude, it’s sick.
Chuck [playing faster than humanly possible]: Jeff, what about this?
Becerra [still trying to hang on]: Chuck, man, that rules. Can you stop for a second? This shit has started to kick in, and I’m really high right now.
Becerra and Chuck developed an immediate rapport based on their shared love of underground metal. Becerra also notes that Chuck did little to hide his adulation for Possessed, which immediately cast aside any aspersions of the two bands having animosity toward one another. “He was smitten with us,” he says. “I don’t want to say he was trying to ‘clone’ Possessed, but he modeled his existence after us. Chuck wasn’t shy about it with me. He then said it in countless magazines. It was cool because we were always friends. There was never any competition since, back then, death metal was so far over the line that nobody could see what it was going to become.”
Despite their proximity and commonalities, Death and Possessed never shared the stage during Chuck’s time in the Bay Area. The two bands were at different points in their careers. Possessed was now on the doorstep of signing a record contract with Combat Records on the back of Death Metal and Demo 1985, the latter of which produced the song “Swing of the Axe,” which popped up on Metal Blade Records’ prized Metal Massacre VI compilation. Chuck and Becerra stayed in contact infrequently until Possessed suddenly dissolved in 1987 after the release of EP The Eyes of Horror. Two years later, Becerra was the victim of a failed armed robbery attempt, subsequently leaving him paralyzed from the chest down and sending him into a spiral of drug and alcohol abuse. He got clean and revived Possessed in 2007, and continues to perform live while seated in a wheelchair.
Chuck did his best to get used to his new surroundings. To get around, he either borrowed Mahoney’s car or took a bus to gatherings that often consisted of typical teenage exploits like setting up a boombox in a park and drinking beer. It was here that Chuck was also introduced to psychedelic drugs for the first time. Shielded from them in Altamonte Springs thanks to the company he was keeping, the Bay Area scene had its share of dabblers—like Dessle and friends. Chuck only recreationally partook, and never progressed to anything more serious and/or addictive, something he stuck with throughout his life. When he took psychedelic drugs for the first time, his friends quickly realized that it was a prime opportunity to pull some pranks.
Dying on stage: Death lineup with Erik Meade and Eric Brecht live, circa 1985
“We have fog in San Francisco that rolls in during the summer off the ocean,” says Dessle. “It can be pretty scary if you’re driving through it over the Golden Gate Bridge. You really can’t see anything. We took Chuck to party up in the hills that were halfway up this mountain with really winding roads. Chuck was sitting in the back, going, ‘Guys, I’m freaking the fuck out right now! I feel like we’re driving through a glass of milk!’ We had some Slayer blasting, and my friend, who was driving, pretended that the brakes didn’t work. Chuck was like, ‘Oh, fuck, dude!’ We were messing with him. He then told us we were geeks. They were great times.”
The same crew of friends took Chuck to some of his first shows at the legendary Ruthie’s Inn, a venue that was already a Bay Area hot spot for metal and punk. Ruthie’s Inn had a built-in crowd that was more violent and far less discerning than the Orlando and Tampa scenes that had given Death a lukewarm response. This was best exemplified by the posse of Exodus fans known as the “Slay Team,” who were often egged on to start fights with posers (read: hair metal fans) by frontman Paul Baloff—the thrash metal scene’s unofficial gatekeeper. While no actual violence broke out (Dessle says the “Slay Team” heckled the posers until they couldn’t take it anymore and walked out of the venue), Chuck was initially taken aback by the ferocity of the Bay Area metal scene. It was abundantly clear that he was far, far from his safe zone in Altamonte Springs.
Dessle and his friends drove Chuck to his first practice with Eric Brecht and Erik Meade at D.R.I.’s rehearsal space in downtown San Francisco. Chuck entered the room as D.R.I. was finishing up and was then greeted with a half-hearted, less-than-welcoming hello from Eric and his brother Kurt. Chuck turned to Dessle with a puzzled look on his face and uttered, “Whatever, dude.” Meade, however, was far more interested in meeting the man known as “Evil Chuck,” and could not hide his surprise at Chuck’s standard get-up of white high-top sneakers, ripped jeans and a Hirax T-shirt, with a flannel over the top.
Meade then queried Chuck about the origins of the name Death, finding his response to be believable—and slightly comical. “I asked Chuck, ‘How did you come up with the name Death?’ He goes, ‘Dude, man, I just wanted to have the heaviest name ever.’ Then I thought, ‘Well, what’s heavier than Death? Nothing.’ I started laughing because it was comparable to the line in This Is Spinal Tap when they say, ‘This is none more black.’ But Chuck was really into it. Death was the thing he really was all about.”
Ahead of rehearsal, Chuck asked Brecht and Meade to learn the material from Death’s previous demos, which included cuts such as “Legion of Doom,” “Infernal Death,” Archangel,” “Corpse Grinder” and “Baptized in Blood.” He was patient with first-time bass player Meade, showing him the finger positions on the neck and then pointing out the transitions. The new bassist proved to be a quick study and got up to speed within a few practices. However, Brecht’s rampant, turbo-charged drums proved to be the biggest obstacle from the outset, and throughout his time in Death.
Brecht’s hyper-velocity playing prompted repeated pleas from Chuck: “Okay, that sounds great, but can you slow it down a little?” Brecht would nod in agreement, only to continue with the same blistering pace. Brecht then proceeded to reel off some blast beats, which were slowly entering the metal drumming repertoire. Chuck was not enthused: “Oh, so we’re going to do some of those now? Cool…” Aware that he was already fighting a losing battle during his first time away from home, Chuck opted to keep a straight face and hoped for the best. He just wanted to make it work. “I agreed with Chuck on the tempos,” says Meade. “I thought, ‘Man, I can barely make out the melody in this.’ I could no longer tell if the songs had any melody, which they did on the demos I heard. I didn’t quite get what we were supposed to be doing.”
“Chuck had a lot of complaints about Eric Brecht’s tempos,” says Dessle. “He sent me some rehearsals, and they reinforced his issue that Eric could only play at lightning speed. He was playing blast beats the whole time. In reality, Chuck was trying to create something heavier and more nuanced.”
Despite the issues with Brecht and his drumming, the revamped Death was booked at Ruthie’s Inn on October 19, 1985, in support of local outfits Desecration, Insanity and headliners Sacrilege. Featuring a mix of standby cuts and new compositions like “Mutilation” and “Skill to Kill,” Death raced through its 30-minute set in front of a packed room waiting to wail on each other and mosh. The problem, though, again, was the drumming. “Since Eric’s playing was so fast, you couldn’t really mosh to it or anything,” says Meade. “Even though this big crowd was there, they would just stand there and stare at us. It was too fast, and it unnerved me because I was just standing there going, ‘What the fuck? Don’t they like us?’ It didn’t seem like anyone did.”
The gig also marked Chuck’s first time out front as Death’s vocalist and guitarist. Chuck now had to sing Kam Lee’s parts in addition to his own original piercing high-pitched shrieks—all while still playing the guitar. He stayed close to Lee’s original vocal lines, but fashioned more of a full-throated roar. He also had to address the crowd, a duty that took some getting used to. Future legendary death metal vocalists like Cannibal Corpse’s Chris Barnes and Obituary’s John Tardy opted to stay in “character” when introducing songs. (For what it’s worth, Tardy’s kind, easygoing Southern drawl would sound out of place when introducing a song like “Chopped in Half.”)
Starting with the Ruthie’s gig, Chuck tried to find a happy medium by using his speaking voice when addressing the crowd, then switching to his death metal voice to introduce the song.
The approach had a mixed reaction. Members of the “Slay Team” laughed amongst themselves when Chuck would speak, and his bandmates also didn’t know what to make of it. “Chuck talked like a surfer dude,” says Meade. “He’d be onstage and go into a full roar, ‘This next song is called ‘Baptized in Blood!’ And I’d be looking at him and go, ‘What was that, Chuck?’ I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t make out what he was singing either, but he was really into it.”
Dessle and his friends circle-pitted and banged their heads to Death’s set in hopes of inspiring the rest of the crowd. Instead, a good chunk of the Ruthie’s Inn contingent stood with their arms crossed and barely moved. It was an underwhelming Bay Area debut for Death, but did little to damage Chuck’s morale. He had other matters to deal with, particularly Brecht’s relentlessly fast drumming. Typical of Chuck, he couldn’t bring himself to confront the drummer directly and instead complained to Dessle, Meade and Mahoney, each of whom had no answers for what he should do.
The one thing Chuck could still control was songwriting, and he made good use of his extended downtime at Mahoney’s to write a fresh batch of songs. Chuck often used Dessle as his sounding board by putting him on speakerphone and rolling through riffs and preliminary vocal patterns for “Baptized in Blood” and “Mutilation.” After blowing through a phalanx of riffs, Chuck would wait for Dessle to react, then reply with his own new line of, “That’s so hideous, right?” It turned out to be Chuck’s favorite Bay Area catchphrase, used to either describe a cool new riff or something he found funny.
The Bay Area version of Death cut a lone demo, Back From the Dead, in October 1985. With eight tracks, including an intro and newbies “Back From the Dead,” “Mutilation” and “Baptized in Blood,” the demo also featured Chuck handling vocals on every song. He alternated between deep, burly vocals and high shrieks throughout, displaying a duality that was arguably ahead of its time. Of significant note here is Brecht’s use of the blast beat, a drum pattern that involves a fast, straight beat (usually eighth notes) on the snare syncopated with a single kick drum alternating hits. The blast beat soon became a primary component of grindcore and was heavily used by several Floridian death metal bands that would rank among Chuck’s peers. The Back From the Dead demo is the only Death recording where the blast beat was used; it’s almost a natural feature considering how fast the songs were played.
Nik Dessle got hold of the finished demo and added the theme song from the television show Alfred Hitchcock Presents as its intro. Chuck wasn’t exactly thrilled with its inclusion and complained to Dessle, who reluctantly told Chuck that it was too late to take it off the tape since he had already started mailing it to his various contacts within the metal underground. Dessle also secretly snuck in some teenage banter about a specific Sesame Street television character at the end of “Legion of Doom.”
“You can hear Chuck going, ‘It’s amazing, Big Bird. Fuck. It’s a big fucking bird. What makes him so different from other fucking birds? Oh, the world without Big Bird,’” says Dessle. “You can also hear a bunch of us laughing in the background. That came from one of our nights out partying. We were in the middle of this marsh on a bike path with a 12-pack of malt liquor. It was one of those nights when we were out, drinking beer and laughing about stupid things. I had the tape recorder and got Chuck speculating about Big Bird. It’s a great memory because Chuck was a goofball. He’d be singing about mutilation, then he’d be laughing about Big Bird.”
Death proceeded to play two more dates at Ruthie’s Inn, followed by a gig at the Farm. By mid-December 1985, Chuck’s patience with Brecht started to wear thin, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to work on new material. Death practice had shifted to a rehearsal studio owned by Franco Mares of the punk band Millions of Dead Cops, otherwise known as MDC. While there, Chuck brought in the outline for what was to become a Scream Bloody Gore cut, “Regurgitated Guts.” Upon realizing that it was another song about gore (and guts), Brecht and Meade protested and suggested to Chuck that Death should start to take on a political angle with his lyrics.
“He got really defensive when Eric made that suggestion,” says Meade. “Within two minutes of us bringing it up, it turned into a really heated argument. Chuck got pissed and said, ‘Fuck you. I don’t need you guys. I’m out of here. He literally grabbed his guitar, unplugged his amp and dragged it out onto the sidewalk.”
Brecht and Meade made no effort to stop Chuck. He had to make at least two trips up and down the stairs to account for his guitar and amplifier. Chuck’s only problem was that Mahoney had just dropped him off at Mares’ studio and had errands to run, so Chuck had to sit outside on top of his amplifier and wait for his ride. Wanting to avoid further confrontation, Brecht and Meade periodically peeked out of the practice room window, waiting for Chuck to leave. “The end of the band just literally came spontaneously,” says Meade. “In retrospect, I don’t think it was spontaneous. I think he was probably not happy with it, but he didn’t let on at all until that practice.”
Hours later, Mahoney snagged Chuck and took him back to her place in Antioch. After three months, the third incarnation of Death had come to an abrupt end.
Chuck was once again without a band and was now terribly homesick. The holidays were approaching, and he was itching to return to Altamonte Springs to see his family and sleep in his bed. Chuck booked a flight from San Francisco to Orlando and bid farewell to the Bay Area and Mahoney, thinking it would be the last time they would see each other.
To read the full chapter, order a copy of Born Human: The Life and Music of Death’s Chuck Schuldiner exclusively via the Decibel webstore right here.
Read another Born Human: The Life and Music of Death’s Chuck Schuldiner on the making of Death’s landmark Scream Bloody Gore album here.
The post Read How DEATH Moved Across Country to Keep the Band Alive In This Excerpt From ‘Born Human: The Life and Music of Death’s Chuck Schuldiner’ Out Now! appeared first on Decibel Magazine.