“OSKOREI” by Kadmon
I
In my childhood in the lake district of Upper Austria I was fascinated by the Perchten who haunted the villages and towns in the dark nights of winter. There were the beautiful Perchten with colorful clothes and glittering ornaments, and the Schiachperchten—bold forms, ghostly apparitions with masks of wood or bark, enveloped in furs, moss, lichen... demons represented by the inhabitants. These Schiachperchten were particularly amazing to me. They emanated an aura of panic. Centuries ago, and in some distant valleys only decades ago, these masked customs—done today mainly for show, kitsch, or to entertain strangers—were a sincere cultic practice which survived from pre-Christian cultures. It was uncanny. Not only children felt a dark fear when they saw these demonic creatures with their animal masks and disguises. In the Perchten the werewolf culture of pagan antiquity, the pagan Dark Ages, could survive even into the modern world. The adults recognized who was behind the masks, and yet there was a sinister suspicion that the neighborhood boy, whom they thought they knew well in everyday life, was another person when wearing the specter’s disguise.
“Whoever dares to perform in the dangerous disguise exposes himself to the spell of sinister, incalculable forces. Dark demonic powers awaken inside him; he himself becomes a demon. ... The disguised performers of this nightmare are ‘possessed,’ they become bearers of demonism.” (Otto Höfler, Kultische Geheimbünde der Germanen [Cultic Secret Societies of the Germans], 14)
In shamanic cultures there were dances of animal powers. The shaman cloaked himself in a fur, adorning himself with teeth, claws, feathers, or painting himself to awaken qualities of a specific animal. This ritual often had a dynamism of its own. The mere imitation of an animal became a metamorphosis.
In this psychodrama, mythology united with depth-psychology. In his consciousness, and that of the outer world, the psyche of the performer became one with the psyche of the creature he represented. An active imagination changed into a mystical identification. The mask not only changed the outer appearance, it also influenced the behavior and affected perception. It short-circuited everyday consciousness and reality for hours, days or even weeks: the wilderness came into appearance... A “psymbolic” magic took effect, negating the boundary between the performer and creature being evoked.
This metamorphosis also played an essential part in the world of the Berserkers and werewolves—it occurred partly intentionally, partly involuntarily, when members of these communities draped themselves in the fur of a wolf, wore a belt made from wolf hair, or drank a certain beverage. Possibly a drug was used.
In a case that took place in 1691, in what is now Latvia, an old farmer named Thies talked extensively about the customs of the werewolf community of which he was a member, the metamorphosis into the wolf, and the powers he and the other werewolves possessed when they fought with real or imagined enemies, ripped apart animals, or escaped from dogs.
This 80-year-old man was still a werewolf but intended to give this power to a younger man, through special initiation, before he died. He himself had been initiated by an old farmer who had given him his wolf pelt. Since then he had to become a wolf at certain times of the year—especially summer and winter solstice—whether he chose to or not. He had no choice and it did not matter whether he wanted this power or decided to struggle against it.
“In ancient times there were many young men who had to put on a magic fur at special times to become a werewolf. Usually they were like all the others, maybe even better; they were good and friendly and harmed no one. But if they were werewolves one had to beware of them. Many of these poor men wished to get rid of the disastrous fur, but...” (G. Goyert/R. Wolter, Vlämische Sagen [Flemish Tales], 129)
II
The wild hunt appeared in many legends—a ghostly flock of dark, martial shapes riding through the night on their horses through the woods, lead by Odin, the one-eyed ruler of the dead, or sometimes by a female rider... a perception that in Christian times was transposed onto the Archangel Michael and his hosts. The black riders on the storm were dead souls, dead warriors returning to their homeland at special times—especially winter solstice, the twelve nights when spirits walk—and during the Fasching carnival.
The Austrian folklorist Otto Höfler was able to prove in his books Kultische Geheimbünde der Germanen and Verwandlungskulte (Transformation Cults) that the wild hunt was not at all a mythological interpretation of storms, thunder, or flocks of birds—as many researchers thought—but a union of mythology and folklore, of myth and reality which was of great importance in the Nordic mystery cults.
In these legends he saw reminiscences of the raw, at times even violent customs of cult societies in which young men, usually unmarried, participated. They were initiated into these alliances. What they were taught had to remain secret—a striking similarity to the mystery cults of the Mediterranean.
Otto Höfler also referred to some resemblances between these cults of metamorphosis with the animal or demonic disguises and the Mithras cult in which certain initiatory degrees wore the masks of ravens and lions. In this way the young men embodied the souls of their ancestors. Höfler stressed that in the Germanic Weltanschauung, like that of most pre-Christian cultures, there was no sharp distinction between this world and the one beyond—the borders were fluid. The folklore of the cult groups was often very brutal. With or without drugs the members felt a furor teutonicus which Höfler called a “decidedly terroristic ecstasy” with various excesses:
“This type of cultic amplification of existence did not signify debauched gratification but ... a duty for the dead. .... In this ecstasy the boundaries of the individual are broken down—but not to detach it from from the boundaries of order; rather it should take part in the meta-individual community of confederation with the dead.” (Höfler, IX)
“In the life of the archaic Germanic societies the Berserkers fulfilled the function of imagination, commotion, and violence which is as important for the social balance as the conservative function ensured by the more mature—probably the old men.” (Georges Dumézil in Tumult 18, 98)
I discovered fascinating details about the wild hunt as harsh and violent folklore in a dissertation by Christine Johannessen on Norse youth customs. In Norway the wild hunt was called Oskorei, Oskoreien, Oskoreidi. This word, no longer extant in contemporary Norwegian, was interpreted as a horrific ride, a thunderous ride, but also as a ride of Asgard [the realm of the gods]—there were connotations with all of these concepts.
In Norway too there were cult communities, circles of young men wearing masks and furs ... until the beginning of this century.
“The wild rage which also included destruction seems to be a right of these men. A specific justification was not always necessary. ... Yet there is a certain order, a certain rule and certainly a tradition; it is not possible to psychologically explain the wildness of the young men as just the temper of youth.” (Johanessen, 335)
They usually appeared during the nights surrounding winter solstice. They wore disguises, assumed false names to remain unknown, and went by foot or on horseback. Their task was to punish those who violated rural traditions. Their acts of vengeance were malicious—they hid or destroyed tools, plugged up chimneys, nailed up doors, or locked the he-goat up in the kitchen. Beer was was their special goal—kegs were stolen or secretly emptied, sometimes to be refilled with water or horse urine, or they themselves urinated back into the barrels. Often horses were also stolen; they became the property of the Oskorei. In the morning the farmers found their horses completely exhausted, or they had to search for them because the apocalyptic riders had set them free somewhere. In Nordisk Jul (“Nordic Yule”), the Swedish researcher Hilding Celander presents a description of St. Stephen’s Day [December 26] from the Swedish village of Blekinge. This saint appears to have taken over some characteristics of Odin and the Oskorei:
“... Like madmen we were riding on the meadows and fields without concern for the pa
ths. Some were kneeling on the horses’ backs and roared as they galloped, some could even stand up on the backs without falling down ... In this way we raced, and it was dangerous for men and animals. ... We also sang songs but none of them were about Staffan [St. Stephen], although the whole thing was called “Staffan’s Race.” ... The farmer used to come out with the brandy bottle, to entertain and praise us. The whole time we remained sitting on the horses. ... If it was possible one of us rode into the room and drank brandy, never dismounting. ... We drank the liquor on the horses. Then we rode to the next farm and the same scenario again occurred. ... Finally we were of course very drunk. When we returned the horses often were covered by foam and sweat. Many accidents happened, and it was not good for the horses either.” (Celander, 280 ff.)
Apart from punishment, the wild rites of the Oskorei had further significance. If the demons were given food and drinks, they brought prosperity. Sometimes the farmers left their horses with headgear in the stable—the nighttime theft of the animals should secure the fertility of the fields. Hoping for a rich harvest, one accepted the demands and offenses of the Oskorei as part of the bargain. Similar perceptions existed in the Alps when the Perchten were given nourishment as they went from house to house, or they were allowed to plunder the pantry. The Latvian werewolf Thies talked about the cultic background of their thefts—the stolen food, the drinks, and the ripped-apart animals were a sacrifice which had to be given, voluntarily or involuntarily; the sacred theft provided fertility.
Gradually, however, many farmers were no longer willing to accept the outrages of the Oskorei. The cultic background of the thefts and pranks fell into oblivion, becoming superstition. The sympathy of the populace disappeared—now the disguised young men were no longer considered embodiments of the dead or fertility demons, but rather trouble-makers and evil-doers.
“This flock [the Oskorei] is usually riding through the air and most often has a female rider as leader, sometimes with the attributes of a mare. ... It breaks into the cellars and steals the beer; steals horses and rides them almost to pieces; it robs men who are found again many kilometers away, or who return to their homes half dead. ... The appearance of the Oskorei is much wilder, more vehement and terrifying than that of the Yule he-goats and other demonic creatures. If they arrive it is no visit but rather a burglary, a raid, an act of harmful destruction to men and animals.” (Johannessen, 331)
In their works, Otto Höfler and Christine Johannessen give examples of arson used as punishment. Höfler wrote about the Swedish secret community of the Öja-bursar in Södermanland, which demanded strict secrecy from its members:
“It is an especially strange characteristic of the demonic mask cult that those so disguised even set buildings on fire, among other acts of terror during their wild, ecstatic processions. ... The arsons of this group had a sacred origin.” (Höfler, 107 ff.)
In Norway as well Christine Johannessen was able to find hints of destruction by fire caused by members of the Oskorei in a combination of custom, wantonness, and drunkenness:
“It means bad luck if everything is not prepared as it should be. They destroy everything, or as in Voss (Hordaland), harm the animals or even burn the farm.” (Johannessen, 243)
III
Noise played an essential role in the wild hunt, as it did in many pagan celebrations... magical noise as an archaic technique of ecstasy was a characteristic of many non-Christian cultic activities. Bonifatius, later canonized after cutting down the “Thor oak tree” for which he was killed by pagans for this outrage, cursed the noisy processions of the Germans in winter. The German language uses the term Heidenlärm, heathen noise. Deadly silence and murmuring apparently seemed to be the trademark of the Christian liturgy... The louder the drums, bells, cries, rattles, and whips, the more effective the noise magic became. The farther north, the longer the winter nights and the the wilder and more grim the demonic rites had to be in order to ward away the evil spirits or awaken nature, which slept in the frozen earth:
“One of the most effective means to stimulate the organism into an ecstatic state is the use of noise instruments. ... The use of roaring iron cymbals and other loud percussion instruments is known in antique processions and ecstatic mysteries. Bells are also an indispensable means of stimulation in the fury and frenzy of the masks in the wild noise processions of our homeland, the ecstatic Perchten and Shembart processions and their relatives. ... Often legends tell of the wild hunt approaching with wonderful music that frequently becomes noisy, wild shouting. ... One of the most prominent characteristics of the host is the hellish din.” (Höfler, 12, 108, 110)
IV
“These groups have various means to approach the other world, to reach a religious ecstasy: disguises, masks; noise (bells, drums, etc.); intoxicating drinks (especially beer and liquor); movement (such as dance) and music (singing, but also invocatory formulas, similar to magical chants, spoken in a falsetto voice), etc. ... With their disguises as well as their behavior the masked ones want to demonstrate they represent supernatural entities and not human beings. They dress as ghostly as possible, speaking with a falsetto voice, reaching ecstasy by dancing, music and noise. ... Their clothes should be as nightmarish as possible. They attempted to dress as ugly as they were able. They had terrible eyes, with big white rings or painted up with coal.” (Johannessen, 13, 95)
All these characteristics are also elements in the Black Metal music which came into existence in Scandinavia, and above all Norway, at the beginning of the ’90s. Many Black Metal musicians paint their faces in demonic black-and-white grimaces, dress in ancient Nordic clothes or adorn themselves with emblems of death... which often results in kitsch. The falsetto voices of the Oskorei are recalled in the ghostly voices of many singers, usually a sinister blend of whispered words and hoarse cries. The disguised members of the Oskorei altered their voices and gave themselves false names—they represented demons and had to remain unknown. In Black Metal as well only a few musicians use their real names; many take pseudonyms from Nordic history and mythology and in the meantime it is possible to find in Black Metal culture almost all deities of the Eddas. Even the age is similar—the members of the Oskorei were usually between 15 and 25 years old.
But Black Metal is above all heathen noise, electronically enhanced. The music is powerful, violent, dark and grim; a demonic sonic art with several elements in common with the Norwegian expressionist painter Edvard Munch, whose famous work “The Scream” would fit well on a record cover. The eternal recurrence of certain leitmotifs, the dark blazing atmosphere, the obscure, viscous sonic landscape of many songs—often lasting more than ten minutes—have at times an almost psychedelic effect. In the heaviness and darkness of certain compositions it is possible to realize some subliminal melodies only after listening to these works several times. Black Metal is a werewolf culture, a werewolf romanticism. In this it comes close to the Oskorei. Is Black Metal in this tradition, is it a recurrence of ancient and medieval Nordic folklore? Is Black Metal with its hard, austere sound the Oskorei of the Iron Age? There are several similarities but also big differences: the musicians of this century are no longer members of a rural cultural landscape, of a village community. Black Metal is primarily an underground culture of Scandinavian cities. But consciously or unconsciously, the Nordic cosmology is still effective in the music of the last decade of the twentieth century... a fascinating phenomenon, even if many Germanicists and folklorists would deny this continuity.
There is a strange connection between the folklore of the Oskorei and the many arsons of churches in Norway in 1992. In Storetveit, Fantoft, Holmenkollen, Stavanger, Ormøya, Skjold, Hauketo, and Sarpsborg churches were set on fire. While extinguishing the fire in Sarpsborg a member of the fire department died in the flames. Amongst the churches was also one of the few remaining stave churches—the Fantoft Kirke. Some Black Metal musicians viewed these destructions as acts of vengeance against the malicious magic of Kristianity which, centuries ago, us
ed similarly violent methods to destroy or Christianize sacred woods, clearings, sources, stones—it crucified the ancient sanctuaries of the Nordic population.
“If I had done it I would not regret it. The stave churches were built in the time of passage from proud heathendom to ludicrous Christianity. By destroying them we start a new beginning. I myself never burned a church. But I hail all who do or did. Whoever builds a Christian temple on our heathen ground desecrates the land of Odin.”—Varg Vikernes
Black Metal is Oskorei romanticism. Many songs deal with Nordic mythology, heathenism, the fight against Christianity and also partially the fight against the Americanism afflicting all areas of European life today. Of course there are many Black Metal musicians embellishing their songs with Nordic expressions, and their record covers with runes and images of the Irminsul [the Germanic world-tree] and Mjöllnir [Thor’s Hammer], without any serious study of the spiritual background of the symbols. For them, Nordic cosmology is cosmetic make-up, decoration. But there are others who take Nordic cosmology seriously, linking ariosophic mythology together in their work with a mental attitude of self-respect and resistance, uniting them in a Nordic Nietzscheanism... Here Black Metal becomes a pagan avant-garde, a Nordic “occulture” reconciling both myth and modern world.
“A hard heart was placed in my breast by Wotan.” (Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, aphorism 260)
Lords of Chaos Page 46