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Few bands have had a career to match Queen. Formed in London in 1970, they became one of the biggest groups on the planet thanks to huge hits such as Bohemian Rhapsody, Another One Bites The Dust and Radio GaGa. Their mix of anthemic songwriting, uplifting musicianship and the charisma of frontman Freddie Mercury marked them out as utterly unique compared to such 70s peers as Led Zeppelin, David Bowie and Black Sabbath.

Mercury’s death in 1991 seemingly marked the end of the band, but guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor returned in 2004 with former Free/Bad Company singer Paul Rodgers under the name Queen + Paul Rodgers (bassist John Deacon sat out the reunion, having officially retired). Since 2011, the revitalised band have been fronted by American Idol runner-up Adam Lambert, playing a string of acclaimed shows and releasing the UK No.1 live album Live Around The World. Those later line-up changes helped keep the band alive, with a string of world tours and the huge success of the 2018 biopic Bohemian Rhapsody introducing them to new generations of fans.

They may have changed singers a couple of times since their return, but amazingly, the band’s classic line up stayed the same for virtually all of its original existence. Mercury, May and Taylor founded the band in 1970, and they were joined the following year by Deacon – the same four men who would make up Queen for the next 20 years.

But it could have been very different. Roger Taylor, whose powerhouse drumming would become one of the band’s sonic signatures was almost poached by a rival band – one whose success in the 80s would go on to match that of Queen.

Like many other bands who started out in the early 70s, Queen spent their first few years playing the club circuit. Their early gigs included shows at such venues as Truro Town Hall, Liverpool’s Cavern Club and famed London club The Marquee.

Another fledging band putting in the hours on the same circuit were Genesis, who were gradually transforming into something more theatrical and progressive. It’s unclear when the two groups’ paths first crossed, but Queen clearly made an impression on the Peter Gabriel-fronted band. When Genesis drummer John Mayhew announced that he was leaving in the summer of 1970, they reached out to Taylor in the hope that he might be interested in joining.

“Well, they invited me to the studio, then we went to the pub,” Taylor told Classic Rock in 2020, on the band’s 50th anniversary. “They didn’t say, ‘Do you want to join the group?’, but I get the impression that’s what they wanted because their drummer had left.”

Taylor was flattered by the offer, but he wasn’t tempted to desert his own band – not least because he wasn’t a huge fan of Genesis’ complex songs.

“I didn’t really get the music, to be honest,” he admitted. “It was a bit too prog for me. But they’re all lovely people.”

In the end Genesis opted for Phil Collins, a former child star who had most recently been in the band Flaming Youth. With Collins behind the drums, Genesis established themselves as leading lights of the emerging progressive rock scene. After Peter Gabriel’s departure in 1974, he took on the additional role of frontman, helping lead the band to huge success with albums such as Duke, Abacab, Invisible Touch and We Can’t Dance.

Genesis weren’t the only band interested in poaching Taylor. In the mid-70s, shortly after Queen supported Mott The Hoople on what would be one of the latter’s last tours before they split, the latter’s singer Ian Hunter and guitarist Mick Ronson asked the drummer if he was interested in joining them in an all-star trio.

“I had a wonderful offer from Mick Ronson and Ian Hunter,” Taylor said. “It was going to be called Hunter Ronson Taylor. That would have been good.”

The reason Taylor turned that one down was less to do with the music they were making and more to do with the bond he had with his Queen bandmates by that point. “I believed there was something about the four of us as a band that was special,” he said. “And I was right.”

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Founded in the early 1990s and originally in existence until the end of that decade, underground British black metal label Cacophonous Records helped launch the careers of Cradle Of Filth, Dimmu Borgir, Sigh and more. In 2016. as the reactivated label prepared to release a shelved CoF album, label founder Neil ‘Frater Nihil’ Harding, the band’s frontman Dani Filth and more looked back on how Cacophonous shaped extreme metal.

In an era when there are almost as many record labels as there are bands making records, it’s easy to forget that there was a time when labels were fewer and further between, not least in the world of extreme metal. Back in the 80s and 90s, being signed became a genuine status symbol not least because, pre-internet, having a label behind you was often the only way to get your releases into the hands of fans and your music into the ears of potential listeners. No Bandcamp, YouTube, Spotify or Facebook back then – hell, we didn’t even have MySpace.

It was against such a background that the explosion of second wave black metal took place and almost all the key releases of the 90s were scattered over just a handful of labels: Osmose, Candlelight, Deathlike Silence, Fullmoon, Misanthropy, Merciless, No Fashion and, of course, Cacophonous Records, who helped launch the likes of Cradle Of Filth, Dimmu Borgir, Bal-Sagoth, Gehenna, Primordial and Sigh.

The roots of Cacophonous are actually embedded in another iconic UK label, Vinyl Solution. Growing from the Portobello Road record store of the same name, it offered a diverse roster from the worlds of techno, hip hop and hardcore punk, alongside significant thrash and death metal bands such as Cancer, Macabre, Cerebral Fix and Bolt Thrower.

Initially folding lyric sheets in exchange for a few records, before eventually taking over the mail order, Frater Nihil – then known simply as Neil Harding – was pretty well-versed in the business by the time he was offered a position overseeing the label. Almost immediately he set about to separate its metal component and turn it into a new self-contained label; Cacophonous was born.

The plan at first was to just release seven-inch records and this is what he did, showcasing underground acts such as Sigh, Kawir, Psychic Pawn, Megiddo and Monolith. The latter was a homegrown thrash/death metal band perhaps most notable for featuring drummer Nick Barker, a soon-to-be member of Cradle Of Filth – as it turned out, it was a crossing of paths with Cradle in 1993, and their induction of Barker, that would set the course for both parties.

“The band left a copy of the Total Fucking Darkness demo in the shop while I was out,” Neil recalls. “I listened to it and thought it was amazing, so I called them up the next day and we went for a beer and talked about the future. They shared a similar ideology; it was Satanic music as I saw it and I thought it would fit very well into what I wanted to do with the label. Cradle were the first band that you listened to and thought, ‘This is the future,’ and really everything sprang from that. It was like, ‘OK, this is the band everyone should hear.’”

“I knew about the store at Portobello because I worked at my granddad’s flower shop in London every Christmas,” remembers Dani. “At lunchtime they’d say, ‘Go for lunch, here’s 20 quid,’ and I’d jump on a train, and come back with all these records saying, ‘Oh, that was delicious.’

“Principle… was originally going to be a seven-inch,” he continues. “We’d been on tour with Cancer and Nick was their drum tech. He came down to produce the EP and in the course of one day he went on to become the drummer and the EP became an album. It all happened very quickly, which was very exciting for a young band.”

Released early in 1994 with the memorable title The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh and the historic catalogue number NIHIL1, it represented Cacophonous’s most ambitious release to date, completely redefining the nature of the label in the process. Neil abandoned the seven-inch release schedule and instead concentrated on breaking Cradle. This was a much bigger task than it might sound, for while the band would ultimately sell half a million copies of the album, in the early days they were met with considerable bemusement and even active resistance. Even a 1993 UK tour with Emperor (a thing of legend today) struggled to pull attendees. “I remember at one show there were literally two people,” Dani laughs. “We ended up saying, ‘This isn’t going anywhere’ and walked off halfway through a song.”

Black metal was still a pretty unknown quantity in ’93 and ’94, particularly in the UK, and distributors baulked at this ballsy, corpsepainted six-piece. Many media outlets refused supportive coverage altogether due to the genre’s associations with desecration, arson, murder and totalitarian politics, and a ‘Satanic panic’ of sorts arose, with scare stories by UK tabloids and even the BBC. At one point both the group and Neil even had to sign a disclaimer distancing themselves from far-right politics in order to get distribution.

But while there were certainly elements of hysteria at work, there’s no doubt that both the band and particularly Cacophonous were intended as more than purely musical ventures. Here was an overtly Satanic record label that unapologetically took inspiration from some pretty extreme occult groups, a point largely reflected by Cradle themselves and evident in Principle…’s lyrics and artwork. Most telling of all was the final (unlisted) track, Imperium Tenebrarum – essentially a short statement of intent, spoken by Neil himself.

“You had various occult groups, people were talking about Satanic war and changing things from an occult sense,” says Neil. “There was a notion among people who listened to Satanic black metal that you were part of something greater. That’s why on Imperium Tenebrarum we’re talking about burning down temples and marching over dogma, because that’s what I really believed in and wanted to showcase with the label. And that’s partly why I championed Cradle.”

“There was a feeling that there was something revolutionary happening,” adds Dani. “It felt like the time was right. That was ’93. Metal had died a horrible death, grunge had killed the mainstream off, so it felt like a revolution. There were bands popping up all over the place, you had those famous magazines covers, the church burning, you didn’t know what was happening day to day and the seriousness of it just added to the excitement.”

A different but equally significant British band Cacophonous signed was Bal-Sagoth. Far less grave than Cradle and with fantasy literature rather than occult leanings, their blend of symphonic extreme metal and heroic atmosphere provided a musical template for future bands such as Turisas and Ensiferum, and Cacophonous would end up releasing the first half of the band’s six-album discography.

“They’ve got a very particular fanbase, but in some cases have wider appeal than Cradle,” says Neil of the Yorkshire clan. “There are more people I’ve met over the years who aren’t into metal per se who know Bal-Sagoth.”

While the albums were all larger-than-life, the band had been so disappointed by their demo that they only sent it out on request and even today vocalist Byron Roberts credits Neil’s foresight with regard to the signing.

“I sent a big letter with the tape,” he recalls, “I said, ‘If we’re ever given a decent recording budget, this is what we’d want: big symphonic keyboards, intros, extensive spoken parts. It’s basically supposed to sound very epic and orchestral.’ Neil saw the potential in those songs and offered us a three-album deal. So that was our big break because none of the other labels wanted to know.”

Irish Pagan black metallers Primordial were another early signing, the band releasing their acclaimed debut full-length Imrama in 1995. Neil was also keen to pick up some of the black metal talent coming out of Norway and, maintaining a focus on the more symphonic and ethereal side of things, he signed both Gehenna and Dimmu Borgir, the latter a tip from Emperor guitarist Samoth. Cacophonous’s release of Dimmu’s second album, Stormblåst, ultimately broke the band to a much wider audience, laying the groundwork for its follow-up, Enthrone Darkness Triumphant, which ultimately propelled them toward the mainstream.

Not all the label’s signings would prove so accessible, of course. Japanese black metallers Sigh signed to Cacophonous after the death of their former label owner, Mayhem mainman Euronymous. They then proceeded to perplex both their fanbase and their new label with a series of superb but increasingly experimental works integrating elements of jazz, rock and classical. Their acclaimed Hail Horror, Hail album even prompted the label to put a disclaimer on the back of the sleeve to explain its unusual nature to the unwary.

“When we were making Hail Horror, Hail, we seriously though that nobody would like it,” says Sigh founder Mirai. “Neil actually came to Japan while we were recording it and frowned upon what we were doing. We were really happy to see that. When a lot of magazines ended up giving it a high score and it was ranked in the albums of the year, we were so surprised.”

Sigh might have represented the more challenging side of the scene, but in general by the mid-90s black and occult metal were becoming increasingly popular. The label’s sales reflected this, and the growth led to the recruitment of more staff, most notably one Julie Weir. “Suddenly I was selling 10,000 units instead of 1,000 units; it was making money and it wasn’t just a bedroom project anymore,” Neil explains. “That’s why Julie came in, to do the things I didn’t want to do. All I wanted to do was listen to demos, go to gigs, sign bands and sort out artwork and recordings. I didn’t want to publicise what I was doing.”

Despite (and in part perhaps because of) this rapid expansion, Cacophonous began facing a number of challenges. A falling out with Cradle over the proposed second album, Dusk… And Her Embrace, resulted in the group departing the label altogether and re-recording the album for Music For Nations. While their contractual compromise, 1996 opus V Empire, did prove to be the most successful Cacophonous release ever, the loss of the band was a significant blow. Some rather Cradle-esque examples of vampire-themed goth/black metal were released by bands such as Finland’s Twilight Ophera and Germany’s Ancient Ceremony, but made little real impact. Meanwhile, other big sellers such as Dimmu Borgir and Bal-Sagoth also departed, signing contracts with Nuclear Blast. This was an awkward situation as the German label had been distributing for Cacophonous and led to a split between the two parties, one that would ultimately spell disaster for the UK label.

“We found another distributor who wanted to get into the metal market – they mainly dealt with rock and punk – and made a switch,” recalls Neil. “But they had no clue, no contacts and they didn’t have the same customer base, so instead of pre-selling 5,000 in Germany we plummeted and were selling 500. Effectively we lost our place in the market and suddenly we were being leapfrogged by lesser labels and there was no money. We weren’t getting the sales and so bands weren’t coming to us.”

The label was more or less silent between 1999 and 2002, and during these years a sister label arose, namely Visible Noise, driven by both Julie and, initially at least, Neil. Cacophonous would make a brief resurgence with a number of distinctly different groups between 2002 and 2004 (“I decided to try something new with blackened metal and deathcore,” says Neil, “it was a rebranding”) but the writing was on the wall and Cacophonous sank into the shadows.

A decade later, a conversation between Neil and Julie regarding the possibility of making vinyl releases of some of the back catalogue quickly ignited a spark that led to the two agreeing to bring back the label as a fully fledged operation with both reissues and new signings, including The King Is Blind and The Infernal Sea. And rather poetically, two decades later, Cacophonous finally released the original, unheard recording of Dusk… And Her Embrace by Cradle of Filth, featuring a completely different lineup than the version released in 1996.

“There are only two people who had the masters, Dani and myself, so if it had ever come out beforehand it would be pretty obvious who it was,” Neil laughs. “So I was always looking for a legitimate way to put those out. I hadn’t seen Dani for five years but we always hit it off and we always lapsed back into that 90s camaraderie.”

“It was a different era of the band,” says Dani of the unreleased album, “and that’s why it’s important it comes out. At the time we were very inspired by bands like Emperor and Immortal and this version harks more to that era than the more polished bombast of the MFN version. So it literally speaks of an era that will never be again. There were legal issues in the past but it’s been 20 years and 20 years is a long time – you get less for murder!”

Originally published in Metal Hammer issue 281, March 2016

In April 1988, Angus Young was asked how it felt to be fashionable again. “Disgusting!” he replied, laughing.

The joke was typical of a man who has never given two hoots about what tastemakers have to say. But the question was entirely valid at a time when AC/DC were finally pulling out of their mid-80s slump.

Angus was talking to Sounds journalist Mary Anne Hobbs during the video shoot for the band’s single That’s The Way I Wanna Rock ’N’ Roll. Their previous release, the blistering, full-throttle rock’n’roll song Heatseeker, had recently reached No.12 on the UK chart – the biggest hit single of their entire career. Parent album Blow Up Your Video had hit number two. But the chart positions, while impressive, were only a part of the story.

What made AC/DC fashionable in 1988, and relevant to a younger rock audience, was the kudos they received from some of the rising stars of the era. “Suddenly AC/DC are in vogue and as a ripe as Zeppelin for plagiarism,” Hobbs wrote. “The renegades of the metalloid resurgence are quick to cite AC/DC’s influence, and regurgitate their riffs whole.”

Guns N’ Roses named AC/DC as a key inspiration alongside Aerosmith and the Sex Pistols, and performed Whole Lotta Rosie during their first UK gigs at London’s Marquee club in June 1987. The Cult, guided by future AC/DC producer Rick Rubin, made the transformation from goth heroes to a balls-out hard rock band with their 1987 album Electric, on which the opening track Wild Flower recycled the riff from AC/DC’s Rock ’N’ Roll Singer. And Metallica drummer Metallica’s Lars Ulrich proudly wore a Back In Black tour jacket given to him by his band’s co-manager Peter Mensch, who had previously worked with AC/DC.

Angus being Angus, he wasn’t going to make a song and dance about the band’s resurgence. “We’ve never been the critics’ love,” he said. “The audience were always the critics to me. If a kid came up to me and said, ‘I didn’t like your show’, that would break my heart. But if you make a record and your audience likes it, they buy it.”

Angus had been around long enough to know how the music business worked, how fashions come and go, how bands rise and fall. He said he hadn’t heard Guns N’ Roses or Metallica. He was still listening to the same stuff he’d always loved – Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Muddy Waters. He reiterated the simple philosophy that had served AC/DC since their inception. “Rock music is what we do best, nice and loud and tough.” But in the making of Blow Up Your Video, the band had made one significant change – and it would prove pivotal to the greater success that followed at the turn of the 90s.

AC/DC’s 1983 album Flick Of The Switch had been produced by the band. 1985 follow-up Fly On The Wall by Angus and Malcolm Young. Neither album had been anywhere near as good or as popular as those they had made with the brilliant producer ‘Mutt’ Lange: Highway To Hell, Back In Black and For Those About To Rock.

AC/DC wised up with Blow Up Your Video. It marked the return of the production team that had worked on every AC/DC album from 1975 to 1978: Harry Vanda and George Young, the latter the elder brother of Malcolm and Angus. In this was a tacit admission. When AC/DC were making records, they needed an extra pair of ears – or in this case, two.

In 1988, Malcolm Young gave a rare interview for Japanese TV in which he noted the success of Blow Up Your Video in the same nonchalant manner as Angus. “There’s still people out there that like us,” he smiled.

Malcolm explained that the album’s title was a wry comment on a generation of rock fans glued to MTV. “The idea was to get the kids out of their homes and down to the show. Don’t watch TV – come and see the real thing.” He also cocked a snook at the big-haired rock bands of the period, principally Whitesnake. “David Coverdale’s got success but he’s had to become a pop singer to get it,” he sneered. “There’s always your glamour bands and your denim-clad groups. And you usually find out that your denim-clad groups are still surviving and the glam ones fade away.”

Behind the scenes, however, Malcolm Young had his own problems. In May 1988 he was forced to step down from the North American leg of the Blow Up Your Video tour in order to undergo treatment for alcohol dependency. Standing in for Malcolm at those shows was his nephew Stevie Young, whose former band Starfighters had supported AC/DC in 1980.

“The funny thing was I never drunk heaps, I just drank consistently and it caught right up on me,” said Malcolm in 2004. “Angus was going, ‘I’m your brother; I don’t want to see you dead here. Remember Bon?’ So I took that break and cleaned myself up.”

And shortly after the tour finished in November 1988 came a permanent change in personnel, when drummer Simon Wright was sacked and replaced by Chris Slade, a bald veteran who had previously been a member of Jimmy Page and Paul Rodgers’ brief-lived supergroup The Firm. AC/DC’s unsteady 80s was drawing to a close. The new decade was ahead of them, and there was everything to play for.

Classic Rock contributor since 2003. Twenty Five years in music industry (40 if you count teenage xerox fanzines). Bylines for Metal Hammer, Decibel. AOR, Hitlist, Carbon 14, The Noise, Boston Phoenix, and spurious publications of increasing obscurity. Award-winning television producer, radio host, and podcaster. Voted “Best Rock Critic” in Boston twice. Last time was 2002, but still. Has been in over four music videos. True story.