Conversations With a Lord Pt. 1: Lord Spikeheart
This is a multi-part blog post about growing up in the Nairobi underground heavy metal music scene, my experiences and the people I met along the way.
It was circa 2019. Standing outside my new rental apartment, I ran into some familiar faces. One person was so inconspicuous that I had trouble remembering if he was even there that day (I'll get back to him in a second). I retreated to my small, cramped apartment and back to my directionless life of sporadic employment.
A few weeks later, I was back at my parents' oversized home in the suburbs of Nairobi. I had some friends over—old bandmates and close friends from uni. I was throwing a house party, and we were experimenting with psychedelics in typical young adult fashion. Mid-trip, I received a phone call. Being horrendously bad at keeping tabs on people, I didn't recognize the number, but I answered anyway. It was "Marto" on the other end—the same inconspicuous guy I'd seen outside my apartment, who happened to be the one I'd known longest from either group. He needed a drum kit.
Awkwardly, I told him he could have it free of charge (though he'd offered to pay). Maybe it was the drugs, the awkwardness, or my lack of confidence, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him that my drum kit was old and beaten down. With no plans to get a new one, having drifted from the music scene, I was too ashamed to admit it. The call ended. He called again, but I didn't pick up—He didn't know it at the time, but I had nothing to offer him. I had quietly given up on my dreams in pursuit of what I thought was the safer route. I told my friends about the call— all fellow musicians—also familiar with "Marto" (it was a small scene, after all). One of them noticed my preoccupation. "Are you still thinking about that call?" he asked. "Don't worry about it—nobody cares (about the music)."
"Nobody cares"
These words kept recycling in my head — "Nobody cares". Somewhere I knew this wasn't true. Deep inside, I knew he meant it when he'd said "we're so close" during our call. But I was too distracted by my own life at the time.
Nonetheless, I continued to keep tabs on new music being released by local artists and friends from the "scene".
One day, a new project stood out. I can't recall exactly how I discovered this project, as I was largely avoiding social media at the time. But word had spread like wildfire and was impossible to ignore. Major publications like The Guardian and others were quick to cover it.
The music was experimental and unrelenting—Otherworldly even. It was the most refreshing piece of work from the local circuit, or anywhere for that matter, that I had ever heard. The music videos were equally impressive and authentic. I was immediately hooked. And judging by the reviews coming from around the world, I wasn't alone. People did seem to give a fuck, after all.
were-jaguar
The Adept, by Lord Spikeheart (Haekalu Records)
Catch Lord Spikeheart on a tour near you!
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