The devil’s chord: A history of Satanism in popular music

The practice of Satanism itself wasn’t formally present until the establishment of The Church of Satan in 1966 by Anton LaVey, devout occultist and author of The Satanic Bible. Yet sonic allusions of The Devil can be dated back as far as the Middle Ages. The musical interval of a tritone or diminished fifth was referred to as The Devil’s Chord (or the Devil In Music) and subsequently banned by the Roman Catholic Church. Gonoud’s Faust composition in the 19th Century boasts one of the most direct and compelling of satanic narratives, while Tartini, Paganini, Stravinsky, Liszt and Hellmsberger II have composed multiple pieces with figurative associations with Lucifer. However, none of these early examples are inherently ‘Satanist’, they merely reference Satan as a fearful nemesis in a religious tale. It wouldn’t be until the emergence of blues and jazz music in the early 1900s before the so-called ‘Devil’s Music’ would find its true cultural footing.

In the early 20th century, traditional societal values and Christian morals were particularly potent in the western world. Anything deemed subversive to the God-feared norm was often considered a direct display of Devil worship. Rebel music – that which is performed by the oppressed or disaffected – was seen as dangerous and unholy. The blues, especially, was regarded as a diablo of satanic profanity and no artist embodied this mythology more than guitarist Robert Johnson. Son House, one of Johnson’s many peers, tells the story of how the guitarist was an average guitar player before disappearing for weeks. On Johnson’s return, his masterful technique was revolutionary. Faustian legend says that Johnson took his guitar to Highways of 49 and 61 in Mississippi where the Devil exchanged his instrument for the bluesman’s soul. Again, this tale tells us more about the conservative superstitions of a predominantly white Christian populace in the 1920s than an artist’s allegiance to Satan.

By the mid-60s, rock & roll, a commercial mutation of blues with greater emphasis on sexual liberation and depravity, was already in its prime. The idea of Satanism as an ideology, rather than a means of purely scaring people, was beginning to take shape. Through LaVeyan teachings and the increasing cult status of occultist poet Aleister Crowley, satanic symbolism started to bleed into mainstream rock and prog. An image of Crowley himself appeared on The Beatle’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heartsclub Band LP sleeve, leading to great scrutiny over the band’s religious leanings. The Rolling Stones’ Sympathy For The Devil sees Mick Jagger literally assume the role of the Devil, calling out for crowds to “Just call me Lucifer”. Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page, while not specifically a Satanist, was a follower of Crowley’s ‘philosophy of personal liberation’. The guitarist went on to purchase Crowley’s reportedly haunted former home in Loch Ness. Led Zeppelin were also involved in one of the more estranged allegations of satanic worship in the 80s, when Televangelist Paul Crouch claimed that by playing the group’s track Stairway to Heaven backwards a voice would be heard saying “Here’s to my sweet Satan… He will give those with him 666”. The claim was purely a coincidence, albeit an unsettling one.

Another act that was hellishly misrepresented in the media due to their unashamedly morbid aesthetic was Black Sabbath. Two of the most common symbols utilised by the band were the Christian cross and the peace sign. Despite this, the gradual rise of counterculture and the inevitable backlash from right wing media corporations painted Black Sabbath as ambassadors of the occult. In actual fact, Ozzy referred to his satanic fans as “freaks in white paint and robes” in his biography. So, considering their Black Mass ritual referencing name and their forging of a genre which would later be synonymous with Satanism, Black Sabbath are possibly the most accidental Satan supporters in existence. In fact, regardless of a public outcry during the 70s and 80s blaming agenda-pushing metalheads such as Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Alice Cooper and Mötley Crew of contributing to what the American media called ‘The Satanic Panic,’ hardly any of these groups actually believed what they were singing about. Luciferian imagery was very much on trend – from bloodied goblets of hollowed skulls to severed goats heads. Controversy sold and The Devil was paying for it.

By the late 80s, simply pretending to worship Beelzebub was rather tame. Despite it’s commercial appeal, underground metal was getting darker, heavier and more insular than it ever had before. While groups such as Morbid Angel, Venom, Celtic Frost and Deicide were focusing their songwriting on Sumerian deities, mythical sorcery and ancient incarnations, it was Norway’s first wave of black metal artists that were genuinely serious about Satanism. Formed in 1984 by Dead, Hellhammer, Euronymous and Necrobutcher, Mayhem personified fear. Their take on speed and death metal was as abrasive as their reputation as a dangerous band. Mayhem would regularly cut themselves onstage and have either a pig or sheep’s head impaled on stakes as they performed. “There is nothing which is too sick, evil or perverted,” Euronymous claimed in a 1993 interview. A self-described Theist Satanist, he despised followers of LaVey and Crowley, claiming the sects to be “just a bunch of freedom and life-loving atheists.” The undying pessimism that drove Euronymous and Mayhem was a new extreme. Their corpse painted faces grimaced at the thought of satanic illegitimacy and publicly cackled as the glowing embers of Norwegian churches slowly burnt to the ground.

When Mayhem’s Per “Dead” Ohlin committed suicide in 1991, Euronymous was reportedly ecstatic. Having found him motionless with a shotgun hole to his head, the Mayhem guitarist took the opportunity to capture the scene on a disposable camera. The image went on to feature on the cover of Mayhem’s bootleg live album Dawn of the Black Hearts. The immeasurable violence surrounding Mayhem shook the world. Similar acts such as Varg Vikernes’s Burzum famously incorporated aspects of ‘traditional paganism’ and ‘Odalism’ into his sound, merging these elements with a stalwart advocation towards nationalism, survivalism and militant individualism.

Of all these ‘isms,’ Satanism was still regarded as the highest threat to society. Emperor, Gogoroth, Bathory, Darkthrone and Sweden’s Dark Funeral were all accused of conducting pagan rituals at shows or recording subliminal backmessages on their records. These were predominantly stage theatrics or acts of non-conformist marketing, which were naively identified as Satanic. Today, many bands adopt this aesthetic, from Eyehategod to Goatwhore to Behemoth to Ghost to Satanic Warmaster to Waitain to Rotting Christ. Whether theistic or atheistic or simple just sadistic, Satanism is omnipresent in our contemporary cultures. Our most recent variation would be the surging popularity of the Illuminati symbolism in hip-hop. Again, this is nothing more than a baseless PR stunt or form of right-wing propaganda. No, Three-6 Mafia are not devil worshippers. No, Beyoncé and Jay Z didn’t name their child Blue Ivy because if pronounced backwards it reads Eulb Yvi, meaning Satan’s daughter in Latin.

Similarly, as we enjoy shocks and horrors in cinema or literature, the aesthetic of Satanism can be a display of darkly expressive Bohemianism to frighten and inspire you in equal measure. It’s the antithesis of big business marketing, one that still sees bands banned from entering countries because of their assumed allegiances to The Beast. Embrace the hyperbole of it all and The Devil will reward you quite handsomely in the afterlife.