Fear Of God
Within The Veil

Here, this is one of the least known episodes in the history of music: Fear Of God.

Put aside everything you know about the airtight compartmentalization of any musical genre that isn’t fusion or crossover. This is a truly unique case of true and genuine art.

We are between the end of the controversial 1980s and the beginning of the depressing 1990s. Metal is writing its most famous pages for commercial success. In that famously year 1991, Metallica and Guns'n'Roses achieve the greatest success of their history. Glam and pop metal are about to be destroyed by the grunge storm, which will overly debilitate almost all rock and metal up until today. What happens to music during this period?

It becomes extreme in all possible ways. No more "Hysteria", no more "Girls, Girls, Girls". Thrash turns into death, hardcore into grindcore. On the other hand, it becomes extreme in the opposite sense: punk becomes "melodic", pop meets the first boy band, that little-studied phenomenon that will rage at the end of the decade and the beginning of the new millennium. In this ominous period, Fear Of God is born and flourishes. When talking about them, one must discuss the first album, "Within the veil," because the second work will be completely useless.

Who are Fear Of God? They are one of the countless bands spawned from the Bay Area, more precisely from that enormous melting pot that is Los Angeles. They are Steve Cordova on drums, Blair Darby on bass, and Michael Carlino on guitar, the author of the music. On vocals, one of the most mysterious and tragic figures of the entire metal scene: Dawn Crosby. No relation to the more famous musician, but the exceptional nature of this woman lies primarily in her vocal skills.

You should have listened to the only album from her previous band, Détente, to understand her artistic nature. No great technique like Doro Pesch, no power like Leather Leone, not just violence like Sabina Classen. In the 1980s she expressed total, devastating, and murderous rage; in the early 1990s, she was able to paint existential and inner torment with her voice more than many other performers. Essentially, she uses a series of engaging vocal registers within the songs: a hoarse and furious thrash singing, a breathy melodic whisper, and an atmospheric spoken tone. What did she narrate? Stories of hallucinatory realism. Little gore, much pain, and that of the real kind.

Hallucinatory and dreamlike atmospheres more than Nirvana " nocturnal shades of blue dance before her eyes, and call to me pleading please don’t lie"; stories of incestuous violence as in "red to grey"; short epitaphs of prostitutes as in "Emily". Faced with such touching themes, one might fear that the music would be one of those dark gothic lullabies (all the same after Siouxsie and the Banshees or The Cure). In the nearly 47 minutes of the album, one of the most fascinating experiments of the decade unfolds. Thrash metal bewitched by doom and psychedelia.

In this terrifying whirlwind of violence, the tragedy of living, and hallucinogenic introspection, Dawn Crosby's voice weaves frescoes of disconcerting realism through lyrics probably inspired by the alcohol that killed her in England 5 years later. Typical thrash gallops are accompanied by doom-like slowdowns. The same moment thrash echoes, doom is heard in the background, and vice versa. In various parts, Dawn Crosby's worldview comes to the fore: while the global economy is dominated by rampant, murderous, and falsely democratic capital, her most animalistic instincts are unleashed in those forgotten shadow cones (often suburbs) where oppression and pain govern the lives of millions of people.

Here is the masterpiece: expressing the connection between society and individual, between general and particular with music. In moments of double bass violence, the hoarse register accompanies faint whispers, and when these reach an almost death-like violence the voice magically becomes melodic. The atmosphere at times is oppressive, but the genius lies in drowning the entire instrumental ensemble in melancholy, making the voice rise with a skillful use of echo. Great for half-sleep, suitable for nightmares, delicately contrasting with dreams.

All this will be missing in the second work. Another real band, in the line-up only with a much more depressed and uninspired Dawn Crosby. Michael Carlino, a great guitarist, has instead been lost in the history of the last 16 years, like Cordova and Darby.

In times of EMOcracy, these pearls of moving and NOT CONSTRUCTED communication, rejected by business and little understood by hardcore brutalists, blinded proggers, and still raw metalcore enthusiasts, are to be rediscovered.

"Be kind of me / come kill me one more time / I’m los in bitter rage."