Cold warriors

SPOT THE NEW GUY Franco Sesa, Thomas Gabriel Fischer and Martin Eric Ain resurrect Celtic Frost.

Naturally, resurrections heat up anytime heavy metal experiences an upswing in popularity. Rob Halford’s return to Judas Priest is the most widely heralded example, but the recent revivals of cult bands such as Suffocation and Atheist, as well as this summer’s spate of Emperor reunion shows, have proved that honored pioneers can always command attentive audiences. Add to that list Celtic Frost, a Swiss trio whose uncompromising music and occult-inspired lyrics made it one of the most influential metal acts of the ’80s. The group has just released Monotheist (Century Media), its first new recording since 1990. But given that the seeds of this reunion were sown in 1999, when Celtic Frost’s back catalog was reissued, it seems fair to wonder why the album took so long to arrive.

“You have to ask the question differently,” singer-guitarist Thomas Gabriel Fischer says. “Wouldn’t it have been cheap and opportunistic to cash in then and there with a big comeback record and shows just to harvest money?” Seated across a glass coffee table in a temporarily rented apartment near the United Nations, the frontman formerly known as Tom G. Warrior seems a bit frosty himself. Clad in black with a skullcap pulled tight down to his brow, he responds to queries in a clipped, business-like tone. Nearby, Martin Eric Ain—Celtic Frost’s bushy-haired, bearded bassist, and Fischer’s on-again, off-again collaborator for more than two decades—sprawls sleepily in an armchair, his bowl of cornflakes going soggy.

If Fischer chooses his words with care, it’s probably because he values the legacy Celtic Frost secured with three seminal albums. Morbid Tales (1984) featured raw thrash topped with the leader’s proto–death growls, punctuated by his emphatically grunted “Oooh!” To Mega Therion (1985) added orchestral flourishes, operatic female backing vocals and dramatic production. On the willfully eclectic (and still astonishing) Into the Pandemonium (1987), an earnest cover of Wall of Voodoo’s “Mexican Radio” gives way to the foppish torpor of “Mesmerized,” the languid recitation “Tristesses de la Lune” and the downright funky “I Won’t Dance.”

But Fischer also knows how his band’s reputation was tarnished by what followed. “If you ask me, Celtic Frost had run its course already in 1987,” he states matter-of-factly. “The artistic, financial and production interference of our then–record company was constant, and on a level that was not just touching off artistic egos, but destroying our career.” Ain and drummer Reed St. Mark left the band; Fischer soldiered on with 1988’s Cold Lake, a halfhearted attempt at mainstream appeal complete with fluffy hair and spandex. When that album was rejected by fans and ignored by the masses, Fischer brought Ain back into the fold for 1991’s underappreciated Vanity/Nemesis. It proved to be too little, too late, and the band fell apart.

“It wasn’t until 1999 that we reflected on the past and realized what it was that meant so much to us, and seemingly to a lot of other people,” Ain says. “From that point on, it wasn’t only about creating music, but about reforming our relationship. And that was hard stuff.” He chuckles. “If you would have made a movie about it, we didn’t have a psychiatrist working with us on social stuff!”

“It wouldn’t have been necessary to go through all of this if we were just photocopying old riffs,” Fischer adds, cracking a smile at last. “To enhance Martin’s answer, he was the psychiatrist, and we didn’t pay him.” According to both Fischer and Ain, the revived Celtic Frost solidified with the addition of new drummer Franco Sesa. “What he brought in was the kind of naive, untampered-with energy and zeal to bring yourself 100 percent into a project,” Ain says, “knowing that you risk everything and might lose a lot.”

Darker and heavier than any of the band’s previous albums, Monotheist still bears certain signature touches: female backing vocals, orchestral accents, the punctuating grunts. Were these conscious attempts at continuity? “There again, you have to ask it differently,” Fischer says. “Earlier Celtic Frost songs are us. And this, for the first time since 1987, is really us.”

Monotheist is out now. Celtic Frost plays B.B. King Blues Club & Grill September 14 and 15.