Fields of the Nephilim were one of my earliest forays into gothic music. They had the harder edged guitar work that I needed to make the jump from my heavy metal days, and Carl McCoy’s deep haunting voice spoke to me in ways David Lee Roth’s could not. The way he almost seemed to growl over the rhythm caught my attention from the moment I heard their single, “Preacher Man,” and soon after began championing the band in all of their dark psychedelic glory.
I was first drawn to the Nephilim by the image on their second release, Dawnrazor, which consisted of the band silhouetted in cowboy hats and weather beaten dusters, smoke wafting up from the distance in glorious Italian western imagery.
During my formative years, Sergio Leone had become a hero of mine with his amazing repertoire of one great spaghetti western after another; culminating with one of my favorite westerns of all time, a mythic tale of revenge called Once Upon A Time in the West.
There is a classic scene in which Henry Fonda and his gang brutally shoot and kill an entire family from beyond the tumbleweeds, and afterward emerge from the brush one by one wearing the enigmatic coats that the Nephilim appropriated for their “dust and death” look. It was one badass style that only added to my infatuation.
The film also contained an iconic score by legendary conductor and Sergio Leone musical collaborator Ennio Morricone, which included “The Man with the Harmonica,” a track that also opens Dawnrazor with a blast of guitar driven perfection, and provides an amazing introduction to their song “Slowkill.”
In 1987, I had been working for No Clubs! for less than a year when Tony informed me they had signed the Nephilim to a show in Ybor City, a small suburb of Tampa, Florida. I had yet to become the full time staff artist for the company, and he had promised the flyer design to our friend Jeff. Tony was also well aware of my fascination with the band and had other plans in mind for me.
I arrived early to the venue at Tony’s request, and was pleasantly surprised when he directed me backstage to meet the band. Although their music was dark and nefarious, they were unexpectedly sweet and sincere. All five of them greeted me with an outstretched hand and a smile. Tony had mentioned how much I often spoke of them, and they were more than willing to accommodate an adoring fan.
When I thought it couldn’t get any better, Carl McCoy asked if I wanted to help ‘flour’ them before the show. He explained to me that in order to replicate the western image they incorporated into their performance; they would take handfuls of the white powder and generously cover their clothing with it. With much exuberance, I agreed to help and was soon covered myself, as the endeavor produced a small flour fight that left everyone within throwing distance more than a little disheveled.
As they took the stage moments later, I watched with much joy as the lighting and a few well placed fans created a small ersatz dust storm while they played. The flour looked amazingly realistic and blew in all directions as I stood and smiled with the knowledge that I had lent a hand to help create the illusion.
I was first drawn to the Nephilim by the image on their second release, Dawnrazor, which consisted of the band silhouetted in cowboy hats and weather beaten dusters, smoke wafting up from the distance in glorious Italian western imagery.
During my formative years, Sergio Leone had become a hero of mine with his amazing repertoire of one great spaghetti western after another; culminating with one of my favorite westerns of all time, a mythic tale of revenge called Once Upon A Time in the West.
There is a classic scene in which Henry Fonda and his gang brutally shoot and kill an entire family from beyond the tumbleweeds, and afterward emerge from the brush one by one wearing the enigmatic coats that the Nephilim appropriated for their “dust and death” look. It was one badass style that only added to my infatuation.
The film also contained an iconic score by legendary conductor and Sergio Leone musical collaborator Ennio Morricone, which included “The Man with the Harmonica,” a track that also opens Dawnrazor with a blast of guitar driven perfection, and provides an amazing introduction to their song “Slowkill.”
In 1987, I had been working for No Clubs! for less than a year when Tony informed me they had signed the Nephilim to a show in Ybor City, a small suburb of Tampa, Florida. I had yet to become the full time staff artist for the company, and he had promised the flyer design to our friend Jeff. Tony was also well aware of my fascination with the band and had other plans in mind for me.
I arrived early to the venue at Tony’s request, and was pleasantly surprised when he directed me backstage to meet the band. Although their music was dark and nefarious, they were unexpectedly sweet and sincere. All five of them greeted me with an outstretched hand and a smile. Tony had mentioned how much I often spoke of them, and they were more than willing to accommodate an adoring fan.
When I thought it couldn’t get any better, Carl McCoy asked if I wanted to help ‘flour’ them before the show. He explained to me that in order to replicate the western image they incorporated into their performance; they would take handfuls of the white powder and generously cover their clothing with it. With much exuberance, I agreed to help and was soon covered myself, as the endeavor produced a small flour fight that left everyone within throwing distance more than a little disheveled.
As they took the stage moments later, I watched with much joy as the lighting and a few well placed fans created a small ersatz dust storm while they played. The flour looked amazingly realistic and blew in all directions as I stood and smiled with the knowledge that I had lent a hand to help create the illusion.
2 comments:
Very cool - I think we've all had the wide range of experiences meeting people we admire. Some are total dicks, and some are gracious and humble and kind. Glad you got the latter out of those dudes.
Once upon a time is definitely in my top 5 of Spaghetti Westerns.
All those formative years I spent watching Gunsmoke with my grandfather has never loosened it's grip.
Did you see the remake of 3:10 to Yuma?
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