DIABOLUS IN MUSICA

The Philharmonie de Paris is host to an exhibition that whispers of power chords and guttural growls, of twisted riffs and thunderous drums. The event, Diabolus in Musica, lays bare Heavy Metal in all its monstrous glory.

The air was thick with expectation as I approached the Philharmonie de Paris, its jagged modern facade looming against the sky like some unearthly temple of a forgotten, diabolical cult. I had long anticipated this pilgrimage, lured not by the strains of classical masterpieces, but by something far darker—an exhibition that whispered of power chords and guttural growls, of twisted riffs and thunderous drums. The very name of the event, Diabolus in Musica, had an eerie resonance, as though the devil himself had inscribed it in the ancient tomes of damnation. Here, Heavy Metal would be laid bare in all its monstrous glory.

THE GODFATHERS
As I crossed the threshold into the exhibition, a blast of sound engulfed me—Black Sabbath's primal, doom-laden tones, the very genesis of the genre. The air vibrated with a palpable energy, thick with the weight of decades of rebellion and unbridled passion. On a screen there was next to the mighty Sabbath, concert footage of Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. Epitomes of hardrock and metal. Sources of inspiration for many bands that were to follow.

Metal comes with imaginings and images and since we were in France, a country where they know how to honour their cultural heritage we saw, as part of Black Sabbath’s illustrious back catalogue, an authentic sculpture by Auguste Rodin: 'Idole éternelle' from 1889. In 1986, Black Sabbath had sought to immortalize this very sculpture on the cover of their album, The 'Eternal Idol'. The intention was to fuse the esoteric with the eternal, an homage to both the dark arts of music and the immortalized flesh of Rodin's creation. Yet, they were denied permission to do so. For the cover photo, they therefore used a re-enactment of that sculpture, by two models covered in bronze paint. That did not end well. Due to the toxicity of the paint, both man and woman were hospitalized after the shoot. 

HAUNTING THE CHAPEL
The exhibit was structured around Seven Chapels of Metal. In these chapels several musicians were commemorated. Icons of metal, representing several subgenres: Cliff Burton (trash), Bon Scott (hardrock), Chuck Schuldiner (death), Per 'Dead' Ohlin (black), Riley Gale (hardcore), Chester Bennington (nu) & Nicole Bogner (prog). Their lives celebrated, their demises mourned. Their images flickered in the dim light of stained glass, spectral and solemn. 

© Joachim Bertrand

Each chapel, in its own way, evoked a sense of reverence, not unlike the gothic splendor of Sainte-Chapelle, where I had earlier stood awestruck by the stained glass that recounted stories of divine suffering. But here, in this modern shrine, the tales were of human suffering, human rebellion and human transcendence. (That visit to Sainte-Chapelle was combined with a visit to the Conciergerie, because of Marie-Antoinette and Gojira - of course.)

Dressed in gothic splendor in the prog-chapel of metal

Sainte-Chapelle

Inside the Concergerie. Place during the French Revolution where Marie-Antoinette, amongst others, waited for the moment of execution.

Gojira plays in front of the Concergerie at the opening of the Olympics

But it was at the shrine of Lemmy Kilmister where I felt the full weight of the exhibition's power. At the moment I laid eyes on his bass guitar, enshrined in glass like a holy relic, the haunting strains of Motörhead’s "God Was Never on Your Side" filled the room. The world outside ceased to exist. Time itself seemed to unravel, and I found myself lost in a vortex of sound and emotion, where only the music mattered. I was both here and elsewhere—in the crowded halls of a live concert, in the solitary refuge of my room where music had been my only companion in endless, lonely hours.

Lemmy's shrine

In this realm, sound was not merely heard but *seen*—images of horror and beauty intertwined, like the serpentine curves of a Giger monster, or the sinister grin of a killer clown. The exhibition reveled in metal’s affinity for the macabre—guillotines and demons and "Frankenstein" (Eddie Van Halen’s guitar, a creation more alive than any mere instrument, its jagged body invoking rites that liberate and expand the mind).

Giger's Alien

Alice Cooper's guillotine

Eddie van Halen's 'Frankenstein' guitar

METAL EXPANSION
And heavy metal, with its roots so embedded in the West, is spreading its tendrils towards other continents. To Africa for instance, as shown on a wall full of photos with African metalheads. A continent steeped in its own rich traditions, rhythms, and struggles—a place where the music of the land had always been powerful, alive with both pain and joy. A place where metal, a genre that has always thrived on rebellion and the exploration of darkness, found new furtile soil to flourish and grow (Botswana has some deliciously death metal bands with Overthrust being the most well-known).  

METAL REDEMPTION
Few buildings, I mused, could so aptly contain the dark, wild energy of heavy metal as the Philharmonie. Its vast, angular roof seemed to stretch toward the heavens like the spires of some infernal cathedral. As I stood on the rooftop, the view of Paris below seemed distant and almost unreal. This, I thought, could be the setting for a staging of Wagner's Parsifal. Backdrop for the story of a hero seeking redemption in a world that had long since forgotten what it meant.

And when I was listening to the silence on that spacious rooftop, with the distant rumble of drums and the faintest wail of a guitar echoing in my brain, Heavy Metal, I realized again, was not merely a genre of music. It was a big toy in the hands of a kid, a gateway to liberation, a way to your place in the world. It was a key to a door that, once opened, could never be closed.

And as I walked downstairs I was already looking forward to my next visit. The Grande Salle de Pierre Boulez, with its modular design, the concert hall where Behemoth performed in April, as part of the Philharmonie's focus on heavy metal until the end of September, is something I must definitely experience in concert.

TICKETS ' DIABOLUS IN MUSICA' / PHILHARMONIE DE PARIS ​

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- Wouter de Moor