Outside the cemetary, under a street light, stood a hooded figure with it's face in full shadow so the features could not be seen. It resembled a scene out of an old Hammer movie, the sort of thing that just doesn't happen in real life, too clichéd to be true. I smiled and started to introduced myself (what else was I supposed to do?) but was stopped by a quiet but firm "Later".

The Disciple nodded in the direction of the cemetary gates and I nearly freaked. He expected me to go in there with him? Before I could say anything he had climbed the gates and was waiting on the other side. I struggled up and over, falling, having caught my trousers on a railing and felt pretty stupid but too disorientated and scared to worry about it. By the time I was back on my feet the Disciple was striding off into the darkness so I followed. Images of the idiotic hero falling into the baddies trap filled my mind but I followed nonetheless. Never again will I slag off that stupid fool in the films, who you know is going to come to a nasty end, for doing something no-one in their right minds would do.

The Disciple stopped by a tomb, sat on it and lit a spliff then passed it straight to me. I accepted gratefully and tasted some of the best skunk I've ever had, then started to relax a little. The tomb we were now both sitting on was that of Madamoiselle Catherine Cardiere, an invalid who lived in the 18th century who was hanged for the infantacide of 32 children in Cambridge. Cute. I continued to smoke as Seth Mendes introduced himself and explained that the Disciples of Belial are a coven of 12 adepts, all living in the north of London, utterly devoted to their high priest, Quorthon the High Equimanthus of Azagthoth, and his quest of corruption and blasphemy. He (Seth) divulges that Quorthon is not guilty of the crime of murder with which he is currently charged by the crown. It is alledged that Quorthon was discovered in Epping Forest on the 23rd October at around 2.30am eating a 3 month old child after injecting P.C.P. at a "gathering" in Ongar earlier that evening.

If this was supposed to scare me it did the trick but I felt so stoned that I couldn't have done anything, like run away, even if I wanted to. I handed the spliff back to Seth and tried to concentrate on asking some questions whilst checking that my tape recorder was working.

"What is the connection between Satanism and Hardcore?"

There was an awfully long pause whilst Seth dragged deeply on the joint and then said

"The work of the Disciples is the result of 13 coven's channeled telekinetic energy upon the Sabbath night through a Trifixion."

"Trifixion?"

"A focal coven near the studio in London whose minds are focused in such a way as to amplify the signal of pure evil onto the programmers of Zammiel who record these teachings into records that are played to thousands of drugged-open youths ripe to perform the work of the Prince of Filth."

I didn't exactly know what to say or ask next. I was lost already and my mind wasn't able to concentrate on his words due to the surroundings and, what was becoming, a joint from hell. Weed had never spaced me out that much in all my life and I started to suspect there wasn't just a bit of decent green in there. Paranoia was setting in as, once more, I fiddled aimlessly with the tape recorder.

"It is working... and I have work to do".

I was becoming a nightmare, a nervous wreck. I'd prepared questions to ask but couldn't think of them. I'd totally lost it on half a spliff, sometimes my thoughts were ice clear then in an instant I'd be completely disorientated and now I'd just been told to get on with it. I struggled for something to say.

"Are there subliminal messages in the DOB tracks?"

"There are messages, written in the oldest and most primative codes in the Earths history, imprinted in the psycho-acoustic ceremonies on the disks. Signals that render the listeners' very soul, aligned in such a way that it is open to ingest repeated messages from the Dark One and do His bidding."

I tried for safer ground but already knew this was gonna be one fucked up interview.

"How did you get in touch with Praxis?"

"A Disciple met Christoph Fringelli through an aqaintance."

I paused, expecting more, but that was it. Silence, apart from night noises that are usually ignored but which now took a hold on my ever more skittish thoughts. I really was scared.

"Have you ever sacrificed anything?" I knew it was a pathetic question but it was all I could think of.

"For legal reasons it is impossible for us to comment on our ritual work as it is not always that the ways of the old law sit hand in glove with the new."

"I take it you'd like to sacrifice something then?"

The spliff was handed back to me in a way that made it impossible for me to refuse, no matter how much I wanted to. The situation was mad enough without more drugs to fuck me up.

"It is written in the Litany of Choronzon that the 13 whores of Megido had their souls raped by the very spirit of the Goat of Mendes before they were caste into the abyss only because their life's elixir had been offered through the letting of the blood of a ram."

I didn't understand a word of it and my head felt like it would explode, or implode, or something. I was out of my mind so I smoked a bit more.

"What equipment do you use for the tracks?"

"We have a primative set up centered around an old Akai machine. However, this is unimportant as the majority of the work is completed in the Scrying Glass of Isobelle Sorrelle, a wytch from Highbury, who, after her execution at Marble Arch, had her heart torn out by the then Queen's surgeon general, Mr Walter Perkis."

He nodded at the roach in my hand, which I instinctively dropped, and produced another spliff whilst seemingly muttering softly under his breath. He lit it and, once again, passed it straight to me saying that this one would be better. "Better" seemed a subjective word. In my living room, warm and safe, I might well have appreciated Seth's hospitality a bit more, but sitting on a murderess' tomb in the middle of the night was just plain freaky. I thanked him for the smoke nonetheless.

"I hear you have people in Sweden and Australia. Can you tell me about them?"

"There are covens of Disciples in both these countries. This is all I can say as, coincidentally, both groups have been subpoenaed for crimes involving animals."

"You have a new record out soon, the Goat of Mendes EP. Can you describe the tracks?"

"The works are from channelors in Nairobi, Senegal, Columbia and London and can only be descibed as beautiful, reverent offerings from the servants of the Infernal Majesty."

It was then that I realised I was tripping. As he spoke the last syllable of "Majesty" the sparkle from a rough granite gravestone shattered into tiny stars. What was he doing to me? I shut my eyes and breathed deep. This was the last thing I needed, all of a sudden I thought of darkness, death and mutilation. It was all there in my head. I didn't need this, it was all going wrong. Down I went 'til I reached that point where the whole experience was no longer fascinating or interesting, only terrifying. I felt a hand on my shoulder which seemed to pick me up and I came back completely, just me and Seth sitting on a tomb and it seemed ok, although I was uneasy. I fealt "misplaced."

"You played live at VFM. Have you done any live stuff again and when will you do so in the future?"

"We have recently finished a tour that covered Spain, Hungary, Uzbekistan, Turkey and Croatia to our delight. Playing to massive battalions of people willing to spill blood for Baphomet, Belial and Ahrimanes, continuing their very existance only for the macabre work of the omnipotent Black Messiah. May He twist our flesh to His evil vision."

The "trip" came back strong, if it was a trip, and I just sat there for a while looking at the mad cemetary. My mind seemed totally clear but couldn't have been as everything seemed so unreal, yet I was there. The whole place was full of movement and life. What the hell was I doing getting off my head with a Satanist in Highgate cemetary? I was having real trouble taking anything in and every slightest rustle of a leaf put me on edge, made me jumpy. Seth stood up and sniffed the air then turned slowly in a full circle as if he was looking for something. I sensed it was time to go, which helped me get it together, but had to ask one more question.

"What do you think the Disciples will be doing in 3 years time?"

I felt a smile come over his face if that is possible. For the time we had been together I hadn't actually seen any of his features at all, but I could sense a smile.

"We will undoubtedly be performing the tasks of our malevolent master, Belial, and awaiting the next 13 years of darkness where Lucifer shall reign supreme and persecute the meek and pour filth and hatred and torment onto this disgusting Christian realm."

We got up and he escorted me back to the cemetary gates, looking round all the time. We did not speak again. He motioned me to climb so I did. It was easy with his help. Astride the gates I looked back to see the faintest movement of Seth in the darkness and then he was gone.

Back on the pavement outside the cemetary I sort of woke up, my mind just cleared. I checked my tape recorder to see if I'd actually got the interview. For the first time in ages I hailed a taxi, to get me away from the place as quickly as possible, not because there was anything bad about it but because I just needed some of my own space, some normality. I went home and smoked myself stupid.