Alcest are pleased to announce that they will go on tour over Europe in March and April, 2027 along Agriculture. Check out all confirmed dates and venues via flyer below. Read more…
Frontiers [Release date : 18.09.27] There’s an abundance of richly melodic twists, ear-catching hooks and smoky Coverdale vocalisms running through the veins of Empowered Emotions, a new album from Gary John Barden. Barden’s CV is well documented online. He’s fronted many … Continue reading →
It’s the summer of 1990, and this writer finds himself on a date with a beautiful girl from Ireland’s County Kildare. Both parties are working in Douglas, Isle of Man for the holiday season, and conveniently staying in the same hotel, and as the evening has been rather agreeable, a night-closing drink in the room I’ve been sharing with my best mate is offered, then accepted.
As we sit at a Catholic nun-approved distance from one another on the edge of my bed, conversation eventually turns to music, namely the music that has been blasting at obnoxious volume all summer from this very room.
“Do you guys only listen to heavy metal?” Debbie enquires.
“Not entirely,” comes the reply, a little too smugly. “Faith No More and Nine Inch Nails and Soundgarden aren’t heavy metal bands, you see. Now, to you, they might sound like heavy metal bands, but what they’re doing is different, it’s smarter, and darker, and more subversive than heavy metal.”
To prove this undeniable argument, I press ‘Play’ on our tape deck, which currently contains a cassette of Soundgarden’s second album Louder Than Love. With unfortunate timing, the cassette is cued up on a track on side two called Big Dumb Sex.
“I know what to do,” wails vocalist Chris Cornell. “I’m gonna fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you, fuck you.”
Two mildly mortified Irish teenagers sit in awkward silence as the song draws waaaaaaaay too slowly to its conclusion.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Paul. Goodnight.”
Soundgarden always did confuse people.
Formed in 1984 with the express aim of being “Black Sabbath without the parts that suck”, the group had a polarising effect on the Seattle rock community, who couldn’t quite decide whether their dirgey Sabbath/Stooges/Zeppelin inspired-sound was intended as a lusty celebration of classic rock or a straight-faced piss-take. Naturally, Chris Cornell and Kim Thayil never apologised and never explained.
When the group quit America’s most respected punk rock label SST to become the first band from their peer group to sign to a major label (A&M), suspicions of their motivations and intentions only intensified. And that’s before anyone had heard their new music.
Given the context in which it was made, and the career moves which subsequently followed – most notably the quartet’s decision to tour with Guns N’ Roses in 1991 – it has become fashionable to claim that Louder Than Love was Soundgarden’s attempt to edge closer to the rock mainstream. This is revisionist nonsense. A full two years before what was later dubbed ‘The Year That Punk Broke’, the mainstream was Pump, Dr. Feelgood, Skid Row and Sonic Temple, and though a new ‘alternative’ sensibility – spearheaded by NIN, FNM, Dinosaur Jr., Jane’s Addiction and Sonic Youth – was gaining traction, Louder Than Love was a particularly obtuse and awkward release, even by the standards of the latter group.
Bassist Hiro Yamamoto’s agonisingly uncomfortable I Awake (opening line: “Woke up depressed, I left for work, you have a good day, it’s not your fault”) is possibly the album’s most off-kilter composition, but there are unconventional, unorthodox ideas at play throughout. For proof, listen to Kim Thayil’s one-note drone guitar which runs for a full two minutes through opener Ugly Truth, the lurching time signatures and tempo changes destabilising Gun – written about Cornell’s occasional desire “to grab some rich broker and rip his head off” – through to the creepy spoken word drawl running beneath Cornell’s melody lines on Big Dumb Sex.
“That song is a parody of the sexual innuendos of disco records,” Cornell told Melody Maker in 1989. “Instead of beating about the bush, I decided to be bold, to actually come out and say, ‘Yeah, I’m gonna fuck’. I guess it was good to get it out of my system so that I’ll never write something like that again.”
Louder Than Love marks the point at which Cornell began to assume the dominant role in the band. Where the songwriting credits on 1988’s Ultramega OK were evenly split between the singer, Thayil and Yamamoto, Cornell’s contributions are given increased weighting on the band’s second album (a situation which hastened Yamamoto’s departure from the group) and it’s these tracks – Ugly Truth, Loud Love and Uncovered, in particular – which shine brightest from the sludge.
With the later addition of bassist Ben Shepherd and with drummer Matt Cameron’s blossoming as a songwriter of note, Soundgarden’s group dynamic would shift again on 1991’s Badmotorfinger, but here Cornell emerged as the band’s focal point at precisely the point where MTV’s 120 Minutes had identified a new breed of charismatic figureheads – Mike Patton, Trent Reznor and Perry Farrell among them – on the fringes of the mainstream.
Upon its release, on September 5, 1989, Louder Than Love didn’t set the world on fire, peaking at number 108 on the Billboard 200. But its impact went beyond mere chart stats, for it pushed Soundgarden to the forefront of a new musical vanguard whose influence would be keenly felt in the decade that followed. On a personal level, for this writer it became one of the key bridging points between metal and alt. rock, opening my eyes, ears and mind to a whole new universe of music that would genuinely change my life.
The Seattle quartet would gain greater poise and power, but Louder Than Love marks the point at which Chris Cornell’s group transitioned from ungainly local heroes to self-aware architects of their own future.
Something we all want more of is value for money. This is especially true when it comes to live shows, as touring costs have risen astronomically, bands have no choice but to raise the prices of tickets and merchandise, meaning it can be very easy to spend over a hundred going to a gig, let alone travel costs etc. Last month, I spent £43.50 on a ti… Read More/Discuss on Metal Underground.com
US veteran heavy doomers Cirith Ungol have announced the release of their seventh full-length effort, All The Shadows, on October 30th via No Remorse Records. The 8-piece outing was engineered, mixed and mastered by Armand John Anthony. For a preview, give a spin to the first single-title track. Read more…
Velvet and Darkness: Why Gothic Fashion Loves Texture
Few fabrics are more closely associated with Gothic fashion than velvet. Long before black lace, Victorian mourning dresses, and dark romantic aesthetics became staples of modern Gothic culture, velvet already possessed many of the qualities the Gothic imagination would eventually embrace.
It absorbs light rather than reflecting it. It appears to shift between shadow and illumination. Its surface invites touch while concealing depth beneath its soft texture. Even before it became a fashion statement, velvet felt mysterious.
This relationship between fabric and atmosphere helps explain why velvet remains one of Gothic fashion’s most enduring materials. Gothic culture has always been fascinated by contrasts: beauty and decay, life and death, visibility and concealment. Velvet expresses those tensions in physical form.
Unlike smooth modern fabrics that emphasize clarity and precision, velvet creates ambiguity. Shadows gather within its folds. Colors appear deeper. Movement changes its appearance from one moment to the next.
The fabric seems alive. For a subculture drawn to mystery, memory, melancholy, and emotional depth, such qualities proved irresistible. The story of velvet in Gothic fashion is therefore about more than clothing. It is a story about how texture became a language capable of expressing the darker dimensions of human experience.
Velvet and Darkness: Why Gothic Fashion Loves Texture
From Royal Luxury to Gothic Symbol
Velvet’s history began long before Gothic fashion existed.
For centuries, the fabric served as a symbol of wealth, status, and exclusivity. Producing velvet required specialized techniques and expensive materials, making it accessible primarily to aristocrats, royalty, and religious institutions.
Throughout medieval and Renaissance Europe, velvet appeared in royal garments, ceremonial robes, and church interiors. Its rich texture communicated importance before a single word was spoken.
Yet velvet possessed another quality that distinguished it from many luxury fabrics.
It interacted dramatically with light.
Gold and silk often reflected illumination. Velvet seemed to absorb it. Shadows pooled within its folds, creating a sense of depth that could appear almost theatrical.
This visual quality would later become central to its Gothic appeal.
Long before Gothic fashion emerged, velvet already possessed an atmosphere of drama, mystery, and emotional intensity.
Victorian Mourning and the Language of Grief
The strongest connection between velvet and Gothic fashion emerged during the nineteenth century.
Victorian mourning culture transformed clothing into a language of grief. Following the death of Prince Albert in 1861, Queen Victoria adopted prolonged mourning attire that influenced fashion throughout Britain and beyond.
Black garments became symbols of remembrance, loss, and emotional devotion.
Velvet played an important role within this visual language.
Its heavy texture and deep coloration conveyed a sense of seriousness that lighter fabrics could not easily achieve. The material seemed to embody the emotional weight associated with mourning rituals.
This connection left a lasting cultural imprint.
Many visual elements that later became associated with Gothic fashion originated within Victorian mourning culture: black clothing, elaborate silhouettes, emotional symbolism, and an aesthetic fascination with memory and mortality.
Velvet stood at the center of that tradition.
The fabric became associated not merely with elegance but with the emotional depth that Gothic culture would later celebrate.
Why Velvet Feels Different
The enduring appeal of velvet cannot be explained through history alone.
The fabric feels different from most materials people encounter in everyday life.
Its texture encourages touch. Its surface changes appearance depending on movement and lighting. Colors appear richer because the raised fibers absorb and scatter light in unusual ways.
This creates an experience that is both visual and tactile.
Gothic fashion has always emphasized atmosphere over practicality. Velvet contributes to that atmosphere by engaging multiple senses simultaneously.
The fabric creates depth where other materials create flatness.
A black velvet garment communicates something very different from black satin, black cotton, or black leather. Texture alters emotional perception.
The attraction is not simply historical.
It is emotional.
Shadow, Concealment, and the Gothic Imagination
One reason velvet became so important to Gothic fashion is its unusual relationship with visibility.
Most fabrics reveal their surfaces immediately. Velvet behaves differently. Its texture absorbs light, creating shadows that obscure details and alter perception. A black velvet garment can appear almost featureless in one moment and richly dimensional in the next.
This quality aligns naturally with Gothic aesthetics.
Gothic literature, art, and fashion rarely celebrate complete transparency. Instead, they often explore ambiguity, hidden meanings, and the tension between revelation and concealment. The unknown remains more compelling than the fully explained.
Velvet expresses this principle visually.
The fabric never presents itself all at once. Light uncovers certain details while allowing others to disappear into shadow. The viewer is encouraged to look more closely, yet the material continues withholding complete clarity.
This interplay between visibility and obscurity helps explain why velvet feels inherently Gothic.
The fabric transforms darkness into an active visual element rather than merely the absence of light.
Velvet and the Beauty of Melancholy
Gothic culture has long embraced emotions that many traditions attempt to avoid.
Grief, nostalgia, longing, and melancholy frequently appear throughout Gothic literature, music, and fashion. Rather than treating these emotions as weaknesses, Gothic aesthetics often transform them into sources of reflection and beauty.
Velvet became an ideal companion to this sensibility.
Its visual weight creates an impression of seriousness and depth. Unlike brightly reflective fabrics associated with celebration or spectacle, velvet often conveys introspection. The material seems to slow the eye, encouraging contemplation rather than excitement.
This emotional quality helps explain why velvet appears so frequently in Gothic photography, fashion editorials, and formal attire.
The fabric contributes to a mood before any symbolism is added.
A black velvet coat, dress, or cape carries an emotional resonance that extends beyond color alone. Texture becomes part of the message.
The garment does not simply look dark.
It feels reflective.
Velvet and Lace: The Two Textures of Gothic Fashion
No discussion of Gothic fashion would be complete without comparing velvet to lace.
Both materials appear constantly within Gothic clothing, yet they communicate very different ideas.
Lace emphasizes delicacy, transparency, and fragility. Its open patterns reveal as much as they conceal. The material often evokes Victorian elegance, romance, and the passage of time.
Velvet operates in the opposite direction.
It conceals rather than reveals. It absorbs rather than reflects. Where lace feels light and intricate, velvet feels substantial and immersive.
Together, the two fabrics create one of Gothic fashion’s most enduring visual contrasts.
Lace introduces vulnerability.
Velvet introduces depth.
One suggests transience.
The other suggests permanence.
One invites light through its surface.
The other gathers shadows within it.
Their combination allows Gothic fashion to balance opposing emotional forces, creating garments that feel simultaneously romantic and mysterious.
This tension lies at the heart of Gothic aesthetics itself.
From Victorian Mourning to Modern Gothic Style
The influence of Victorian mourning culture never disappeared completely.
During the late twentieth century, emerging Gothic subcultures rediscovered many of the visual traditions associated with nineteenth-century fashion. Black clothing, dramatic silhouettes, antique jewelry, lace, corsets, and velvet all returned within a new cultural context.
The fabric proved remarkably adaptable.
Velvet appeared in romantic Gothic styles, Victorian-inspired ensembles, dark formalwear, and contemporary interpretations of Gothic fashion. Although individual trends changed, the material’s symbolic associations remained largely intact.
Designers also recognized its unique potential.
Alexander McQueen frequently incorporated rich historical textures into collections that explored beauty, mortality, memory, and transformation. His celebrated collection Widows of Culloden drew upon Victorian influences and demonstrated how historical materials could retain their emotional power within contemporary fashion.
The continuing presence of velvet reflects more than nostalgia.
The fabric remains relevant because the emotions it evokes remain relevant. Themes of memory, mystery, longing, and self-expression continue attracting individuals drawn to Gothic culture.
Velvet provides a tactile way of expressing those themes.
Why Gothic Fashion Still Chooses Velvet
Fashion trends change constantly.
Few materials maintain cultural relevance for centuries.
Velvet has survived because it offers something that many modern fabrics cannot easily reproduce. It combines historical associations, visual complexity, and emotional resonance in a single material.
For Gothic fashion, this combination is invaluable.
The subculture has never been concerned solely with appearance. Gothic style functions as a form of storytelling. Clothing communicates influences, emotions, memories, and personal identity. Materials become part of that narrative.
Velvet carries centuries of cultural memory.
Its connections to royalty, mourning rituals, Victorian aesthetics, and dark romanticism allow contemporary wearers to participate in a visual tradition that extends far beyond current fashion cycles.
At the same time, the fabric remains remarkably adaptable.
A velvet coat can evoke nineteenth-century elegance. A velvet jacket can feel modern and understated. A velvet dress can appear romantic, theatrical, or mysterious depending on its design.
The material evolves without losing its identity.
When Fabric Becomes Atmosphere
The relationship between velvet and Gothic fashion ultimately extends beyond clothing.
Velvet succeeds because it transforms texture into atmosphere.
Throughout its history, the fabric accumulated associations with royalty, mourning, romance, mystery, and emotional intensity. Gothic culture inherited those meanings and reshaped them into a distinctive visual identity.
Its attraction lies partly in history.
Its attraction also lies in experience.
Velvet changes the way light behaves. It softens outlines. It creates shadows where other fabrics create reflections. These physical qualities mirror many of the themes that define Gothic aesthetics: concealment, ambiguity, melancholy, and beauty emerging from darkness.
The fabric also embodies the tensions that run throughout Gothic culture.
Like the contrast between velvet and lace, it balances elegance with mystery, beauty with introspection, visibility with concealment. It invites attention while refusing complete clarity.
That is why velvet continues appearing generation after generation.
Not because it is fashionable.
Because it feels Gothic.
Few materials express the emotional depth of Gothic culture so naturally. The fabric does not simply cover the body. It creates a mood, shapes an atmosphere, and transforms texture into meaning.
In the world of Gothic fashion, that achievement is timeless.
Wear the Darkness
If Velvet and Darkness: Why Gothic Fashion Loves Texture speaks to your love of Gothic aesthetics, Victorian influences, and dark fashion, explore the Edgar Allan Poets store. Our apparel celebrates the textures, symbols, and stories that continue shaping Gothic culture.
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Frequently Asked Questions
Why is velvet associated with Gothic fashion?
Velvet is associated with Gothic fashion because its deep texture, light-absorbing qualities, and historical connections to mourning, mystery, and elegance align closely with Gothic aesthetics.
Did Victorian mourning culture influence Gothic fashion?
Yes. Many elements of modern Gothic fashion, including black clothing, emotional symbolism, and the use of fabrics such as velvet and lace, have roots in Victorian mourning traditions.
Why does velvet look darker than other fabrics?
Velvet’s raised fibers absorb and scatter light differently from smoother materials, creating deeper shadows and richer colors.
What is the difference between velvet and lace in Gothic fashion?
Lace often emphasizes delicacy and transparency, while velvet emphasizes depth, concealment, and atmosphere. Together they create one of Gothic fashion’s most recognizable visual contrasts.
Do contemporary Gothic designers still use velvet?
Yes. Velvet remains a popular material in Gothic, Victorian-inspired, and dark romantic fashion because of its visual richness and strong historical associations.
It’s no exaggeration to say that Slipknot’s Iowa changed the metal landscape. Twenty-five years on from its release, it’s impossible not to see Gojiraplaying the Olympics, Knocked Loose popping up on late-night TV or Bring Me The Horizon becoming a chart-topping, arena-filling act without tracing it all to the Iowan nine-piece’s own second album, still the most extreme record to top the UK charts.
Reuniting with Ross Robinson – no stranger to landscape-altering releases thanks to his work on Korn’s debut and Sepultura’s Roots – they increased the intensity and made their extreme metal allegiances even more obvious, yet still continued to thrive in the mainstream. To celebrate 25 years of this landmark release, Hammer sat down with Ross to explore the story behind how the album was made.
After the success of Slipknot, was there ever a discussion about whether going heavier for album #2 was a good idea?
“I’ve never done a record with an intention of hits or thinking about what the listener is going to do. That’s just not part of the equation. It was just, ‘How can we go deeper?’ Roadrunner really wanted another Spit It Out, but we were looking to help Norway burn some more churches. We wanted to join that extreme metal club!”
What made Slipknot different to the other bands you’d worked with previously?
“I just connected so much with their music – I wasn’t doing Korn or Limp Bizkit anymore, I’d disconnected from that world. But then here come Slipknot that’s something totally fresh. Later you’d get all the copy bands, your Papa Roaches or whatever, everybody was blazing on top of the charts and taking over, and I was out. Slipknot were the answer to all of that, partially because they were so isolated from it all.
Success was hard on those innocent Beavises
Ross Robinson
“At the time for me, I felt like I was stepping back into my 80s thrash roots. They were pretty much the only band using double-bass [drums] at that point who weren’t in the underground. But it was the ferocity, too – they were more ferocious than anybody else. Nobody on planet Earth could step up to that level. They had this extreme voice as a unit.”
The band have talked about how much tension there was between them all around the time of Iowa. Did you see much of that?
“I did get a complaint from Paul [Gray, bassist] or maybe Joey [Jordison, drummer] at one point before we recorded, where they were like, ‘We’re just not getting along. We’re gonna break up.’ So I flew out to them. Corey [Taylor, frontman] took me out and was showing me Stone Sour stuff. It was like, ‘Erm, this is cool… but it’s not Slipknot.’
“That transition from having this vision from nothing, to it becoming so extreme as far as success and everything goes… Nobody goes to school for it, there’s no education for how to deal with everybody suddenly kissing your butt no matter what you do or say. Girls that would never have looked at you, suddenly paying you all this attention… it’s very confusing. It was tough on these innocent Beavises!”
Were there any flare-ups in the studio? Were you called on to mediate?
“It could be tough. Some of the guys would be doing so much, while others had to wait around for ages to do anything. There was some anxiety in that. That’s all part of that confusion surrounding a monster that big. I’m older than them a little bit and I think they trusted my experience. But as somebody who didn’t want anything from them beyond making some great music, I could just be honest with them and say what I felt.”
What part of recording sticks out most to you?
“I remember that the title track, Iowa, came from this jam. They came in one day with these bottles of [buzz-inducing cold medication] NyQuil – the only time anybody was actually under the influence in the studio. They wanted me to drink it but I had to work, so I was like, ‘Fuck that shit!’
“They pounded that bottle and we went into this room in Sound City where Fleetwood Mac recorded, Nevermind was made and whatever. There’s a side room that’s supposed to be haunted, all mouldy and shitty, covered in this carpet. I stuffed the whole band in there, opened the door so we could get some room mic and just talked about ideas.
“They started jamming and there was this vibe and presence that was the foundation for the whole album. I’m pretty sure that the version you hear on the record is exactly how it went down at the time – we recorded it in one take. What metal band on planet Earth jams like a jazz band on record?”
Corey’s said he ended up rolling around naked on the floor, cutting himself with glass, recording that. How true is that?
“I remember he did that on vocal overdubs, but I can’t remember if it was Iowa specifically that he did it for. He had to strip his soul all the way. I do remember seeing him naked a lot. We’d get all woo-woo around the lyrics, go deep into the meaning and the tone of everything, so I’d have chills by the time I hit record.
Joey said my broken back was the best thing that happened for them
Ross Robinson
The dude is a clear vessel for whatever comes through him – I called him ‘the bulletproof neck’, because he had this big, thick fucking neck that never quit on him no matter how much he put it through.”
While the album was being recorded you broke your back in a motocross accident. Is it true you only took one day off and then just came back in?
“Yeah.”
Wasn’t there a point where you thought, ‘Fuck it, somebody else can do this’?
“No, that’d be impossible. It was actually really good for the record because the guys were being taken out in Hollywood, hanging out with all these big stars and shit. When I broke my back and showed up anyway, it put a very next-level diligence into those guys. Joey said to me later, ‘It was the greatest thing that ever happened to us.’ It was really tough – I’d get home and just lie there watching The Big Lebowski until I passed out. I was in so much pain, but I’d get to the studio and it’d be, ‘Let’s get it the fuck on!’”
What was the hardest part of doing that?
“I remember we spent almost a month just getting the drums edited. We were razor-blading and pasting these bits of tape because there weren’t computer tools to do that. So I’d be there marking every tom, kick and snare on the record, which was a big job in itself because of how Joey plays. My secret was to cut these little slivers out, so it almost sounded rushed and even more extreme. I was doing that on a fresh broken back, then by the time we got to guitars I was finally able to sit down properly again.”
Why pick People = Shit as the first proper song on the album? It’s hardly easing people in gently.
“Well, the whole ‘Here we go again, motherfucker!’ thing was Corey’s genius. There’s always this thing inside of me that wants to compete with anything they can do at a live show. I always wanted to capture them at their deepest, most full-tilt slam so they couldn’t just easily top the record. The easiest way to do that was to make it almost violent, with shit flying through the air and having fun making chaos.
“We weren’t going, ‘Let’s make this sound good.’ Fuck that! Does it give you chills? Does it make you laugh or cry, do you get scared? I wanted people to worry they were going to die listening to this record!”
What was the most difficult part to record?
“Vocal overdubs could be tough. The bar was set so high with the band slamming together – when you’re that extreme, it gets difficult, especially when you’re on your own and trying to get back into the zone. There was a lot going on with Corey at the time too – he’d be going out pretty much every night and had this little fanbase of people he hung out with.
You wanna feel Joey and Paul? Press play. It’s right there.
Ross Robinson
“Weirdly, the easiest one to get in the zone was when Sid’s [Wilson, turntables] grandfather passed away, and I’d asked him to do some overdubs for the background of People = Shit. He was so distraught, sad, hurt and was just crying. I was like, ‘You’re doing backgrounds today’ and he nailed it.”
Isn’t he also doing that on (515) too?
“They’re actually outtakes of the backgrounds we recorded for People = Shit. It’s the sound of true unfiltered grief, but also the sound of pure love.”
What impact did it have on the metal scene at the time?
“I didn’t really get time to appreciate it, because I was making other records. I was out of the loop when it comes to statistics. I’d just get the occasional email like, ‘Hey, buddy!’ It’s crazy to me how big it is now, though – I think it’s bigger now than it was when it was actually released. I miss Joey and Paul so much, so those guys getting to live on through that is a dream.”
Twenty-five years on, what do you consider to be the legacy of Iowa?
“Fearlessness. They jumped into the unknown and did the exact opposite of what a bean-counter would want them to do, but still got multi-platinum status with this record. We were treading new water with this, but it gave me the same excitement thrash did in the 80s.”
Why are we still talking about it today?
“When you’ve got a band slamming as hard as they possibly fucking can, not giving a damn about mistakes or perfection, it creates a living, beating heartbeat that has something infinite to say, no matter how many times you’ve heard it. Mystical things happen – you’ll hear something different every time you hear it, because none of that stuff was planned out.
“Before we did this interview, I played a couple of tracks and it’s still so alive – a living, breathing force. It holds the essence of my friends’ lifeforce, you know? If you want to know if life can last forever, or you wanna feel Joey and Paul? Press play. It’s right there. It’s so beautiful.”
