An emotional history of Hecate Enthroned (English version)

As I transitioned from pre-adolescence to adolescence, black metal was the essential soundtrack of my life. Regardless of what people say, appreciation for black metal is a matter of acquired taste: anyone who listens to any band can judge it to be either the best or the worst thing in the world. At that time, when everything was darkness and rebellion to me, I obviously found meaning in those demonic screams, and far from feeling fear or disgust, the only thing I saw was comfort.

Being someone passionate about everything that makes me feel good, I tried to maintain contact with my idols and make them aware of my adoration for them, and I am very happy to say that I was accepted in 9 out of 10 cases; contrary to popular belief, there are no more well-mannered and helpful gentlemen than black metal musicians. It is with great pride that I count, and have counted, as friends Tvangeste, Ebonylake, Hecate Enthroned, just to name a few; but my relationship with Hecate developed in the most unorthodox way, and I spoke at least once with almost all of its former members – particularly from their 1998 line-up.

Let's start, however, from the beginning – and please follow me back to 2010, the year of my introduction to black metal. Burzum and Cradle of Filth were the first bands I ever heard. My adoration, however, was dedicated to the latter, as their lyrical themes appealed to my then-budding tastes for the so-called Dark Romanticism. Dani Filth was, and still is, an excellent lyricist, but I – and everyone, for that matter – realized that, musically, CoF lost its character from the 2000s onwards, and we would most likely never see another “Dusk and her embrace” given the circumstances. I dreamed that, somewhere, there would be another band similar to CoF, whether lyrically or musically at least, and thanks to the intermittent research that I enjoy doing, behold what I found: a band whose lead singer had been from CoF and who had learned to sing with Mr. Filth! Hecate Enthroned… Very well, then!

I always begin everything chronologically; I heard Hecate's first EP, “Upon Promeathean shores”, and I was amazed. It was a much, much better version of what CoF had developed in their debut, “The principle of evil made flesh”: it's worth mentioning that the two releases are only a year apart between each other. I then went from the EP to the first two studio albums – “The slaughter of innocence” and “Dark requiems and unsilent massacre” made me float. Not only due to the excellent vocals of my late friend Jon Kennedy but also to the great work of the remaining musicians, of course.

For the following years I breathed Hecate almost daily – there was no other symphonic black metal vocalist as grandiose and complete as Mr. Kennedy, and who did the same thing as Mr. Filth but a thousand times better. I am well aware that, for many years, CoF and Hecate were compared to each other, but Hecate, instead of being a mere plagiarism of CoF as many have had the audacity to proclaim, only improved their formula; although “Dusk and her embrace” had already come out by then, Mr. Kennedy's lyrics were much more mature, and not as focused on the “theatrical” aspects that CoF began to develop. It may be that such accusations contributed to Mr. Kennedy's eventual dismissal, but I was never interested in delving into these personal issues.

Hecate's post-Kennedy albums remain excellent examples of symphonic black metal – comrades Dean, Elliot and Joe are also great vocalists, and must I add here that I had some brief but very pleasant conversations with Mr. Dean – but Mr. Kennedy was my favorite of the bunch, and in view of his tragic and untimely death in September 2023, I want to take this opportunity to record my gratitude for the fruits of our friendship.

Even though I haven't met anyone from Hecate in person (a show in Brazil would be great...!), Mr. Kennedy was always very courteous in answering any questions I had: he shared with me some stories about his years with CoF and, most importantly, introduced me to the poetry of Sylvia Plath and helped me explain to the Internet that Jon Pritchard and Jon Kennedy, both former CoF bassists, were not the same person – I don't mean to brag, but I was the one who corrected the vast compendiums of Encyclopaedia Metallum on that matter. We engaged in plenty of friendly banter commenting on each other's posts, when I still had social media, and it was lovely to see how he had such a beautiful and adorable family – that man deserved that, and much more.

I regretted, greatly, not having tried some other way of continuing to correspond with Mr. Kennedy (or with the other bandmembers I enjoyed talking to – Dean Seddon himself, for example, and Andy Milnes and Dylan Hughes) after my disappearance from social media – in my eagerness to disconnect from something that, over a period of time, had been doing me more harm than good, I made several bad decisions and lost many people I loved. I also wasn't such a big fan of black metal in my later years with a public profile, so I judged (very wrongly) that I wouldn't miss it too much.

I was mistaken. Two years late, in 2022, I found out about the death of former guitarist Marc Evans by suicide. I hadn't spoken to Marc, as I didn't know if he had social media, but his work on Hecate's first two releases was stellar, and I couldn't praise him for it. However, I learned that Mr. Kennedy had finally returned to the stages with a promising new band, Imperial Genocide, but this was not enough to motivate me to return to Facebook to congratulate him; maybe he wouldn't even remember me anymore, thought I. I spent the remaining months living life as usual, but a strange pang, which I always tried to suppress, told me to try to get in touch with Mr. Kennedy again as soon as possible. When I finally decided to give in… the tragedy that everyone must be aware of occurred.

I was horrified. I still am, actually. He was the second great friend I lost to an unexpected tragedy, without being able to tell him everything I wanted to say while he was still alive. For the 6 months that followed Mr. Kennedy's death I did nothing other than punish myself, and I know that until the end of my own life he will be missed, but to console myself I think that, after all, that's not what my friend would like.

In his brief 46 years of life he was able to leave his mark on one of the most important musical scenes in the world, bequeathing to posterity 3 albums of the highest caliber. Everything he could have done he did, bringing joy to thousands of people around the world (myself among them), and if that's not a great achievement, then I don't know what is. Hecate still stands as a great testament to his name, and is in very good hands – as long as there is anyone who listens to Hecate, Jon and Marc will live on in the memories of a myriad of fans, which is, at least for me, the greatest form of reward anyone can earn, and if I say this even with my friend having passed away – oh, well! Better late than never.

(São Carlos, 1 March 2024)

[IN MEMORIAM MARC EVANS & JON KENNEDY]