Stars & Artists: Tony Iommi, Mars, and the Factory Accident that Birthed Heavy Metal

Photo of Tony Iommi playing with Heaven and Hell in 2009 by Adam Bielawki

Anthony “Tony” Iommi was born in Birmingham, England on February 19, 1948. His birth time is unknown. He is best known as the founding guitarist and sole continuous member of the legendary band Black Sabbath who pioneered heavy metal itself. He is frequently ranked as one of the greatest guitarists of all time. His style has had a particular influence upon the subgenre of Doom Metal, to the point where he’s nearly become sanctified by die-hard Doom fans (see Sleep’s Iommic Life EP). Unfortunately, Tony’s birthtime is not in the public record. Here is the chart for his birthday with the time set to 12 noon local time:

Tony Iommi’s untimed natal chart.

Without an accurate birthtime, it’s unclear what Tony’s Ascendant may be. Moreover, Tony was also born on the day when the Sun changed signs from Aquarius to Pisces, so his Sun sign is also uncertain without rectification or obtaining a copy of his birth certificate. However, a few key features of the chart immediately leap out. For instance, the chart contains two tense oppositions between benefic planets and outer planets. A triumphant Jupiter in Sagittarius opposes both the Moon and Uranus in Gemini while brash Venus in Aries opposes Neptune in Libra. What really draws my eye though are the three Malefic planets of Mars, Saturn, and Pluto concentrated in the very performative sign of Leo. From a Whole-Sign House perspective, its tempting to speculate that either his 1st or 10th houses correspond to Leo, as Iommi’s identity and career have centered upon introducing and performing a monstrously heavy music genre famous for its malefic themes such as war, strife, struggle, occultism, darkness, and mental anguish.

Although the world has come to love the dense, dark sound he pioneered, Tony’s unique guitar style came from a horrible industrial accident. It was 1965, and a 17-year old Tony Iommi was working in a sheet metal factory in his hometown of Birmingham, England. He had recently started playing in a band called the Byrds & the Bees, and the band had just scored a string of tour dates in Europe. Determined to embrace life as a musician and escape his working class origins, Tony went home on lunch break one Friday and told his mother he wasn’t going back. She famously (and fatefully) encouraged him to return, saying “Iommi’s don’t quit! You want to go back and finish the day off, finish it proper!” (Iommi, Lammers)

So young Tony returned to the factory. When he arrived, he was asked to operate a machine he was unfamiliar with: a huge guillotine-like press that bent pieces of metal before they were sent down the line to the welder. While daydreaming of being on tour in Europe, Iommi lost focus. Suddenly, the press slammed down on his right hand. He looked down and gasped. Two of the fingertips on his right hand were gone!

That Metal Show’s fantastic animated depiction of the incident is narrated by Tony himself!

At the hospital, doctors were unable to reattach his fingertips. Tony was dejected, thinking he would never play guitar ever again. But after the accident, the factory foreman introduced Tony to the music of Django Reinhardt, a jazz guitarist who played with only two fingers on the fret-board after losing two of his own fingertips in a fire. Feeling inspired, Tony made his own prosthetic tips to fit on the ends of his fingers from melted plastic and scraps of leather. He also replaced his guitar strings with banjo strings and started down-tuning his guitar so that the extra slack would make bending the strings easier. In the process, he created a richer, more ominous sound, and the rest is history.

Since we have no birth time for Tony, my research tools were limited to transits and annual profections. Luckily, from Tony’s biography and multiple interviews recounting the incident, I gleaned a few key pieces of data:

1. It had to be a Friday

2. in 1965

3. after his 17th birthday on Feb 19

4. in an astrological alignment involving Mars.

I inferred the last point from the story itself. When read with astrological eyes, the incident has Mars written all over it. From the setting (a hot, loud factory) to the injury (a bodily severing), the story is thoroughly Martial. Dubbed the “Lesser Malefic,” Mars governs life’s painful parts that are delivered in acute, sharp stings rather than the grinding, chronic suffering that Saturn serves. Appearing in adrenaline-drenched moments of intensity, Mars manifests in the urges to fight, fly, or fuck. Glowing ruby red like the crimson blood flowing through our veins, Mars’ hand guides our corporeal existence and the burning passions that animate the flesh. Reveling in sweat, iron, and fire, Mars is also the patron planet of those who work with their hands like carpenters, mechanics, blacksmiths, and welders like young Tony Iommi.

Having reached age 17, Tony was also in a 6th House annual profection year. When the 6th House is activated, its topics such as physical health, injuries, sacrifice, and menial labor are highlighted. In Hellenistic astrology, the 6th House is known as the House of Mala Fortuna or Bad Fortune, and sometimes its simply the place where subjectively negative events befall the native. The fact that Tony was in a 6th House year adds further testimony to Mars’ involvement, as the 6th House is also called the Joy of Mars. The Red Dread Planet rejoices in the toil of incarnate existence, the urgency of unexpected change, the courage cultivated in confrontation, and the occasional necessity of “going under the knife” to maintain physical health.

In this pivotal moment of Tony’s life, we can perceive a multitude of 6th House themes cropping up. Obviously, there is the grinding, menial labor of factory work and its meager compensation. There is the literal bodily injury to Tony’s hands and the spilling of blood. There is also the subsequent emergency visit to the hospital and the inability of surgeons to reattach Tony’s severed fingertips. But there is also Tony’s steely determination to pursue his dream of becoming a musician despite being impeded by a physical injury. Yes, Mars revels in sacrifices of blood, but he also delights in delayed gratification. Tony’s aspirations of jetting off to Europe to play with the Byrds & the Bees were immediately cut short. However, by working creatively within his new material circumstances, Tony developed a whole new way of playing guitar, achieving a legendary status for himself in the annals of music history. Just think how different the landscape of music today would be if his adolescent dream of playing in the Byrds & the Bees had been realized rather than enduring this injury and finding a new form for his dreams and creative output to take.

Just ask yourself: How many people have heard of the Byrds & the Bees anyway?

Having taken stock of all dates that meet the above criteria, I propose the accident occurred on March 26, 1965. Check out the chart below:

An untimed chart for March 26, 1965

The early months of 1965 were dominated by a Mars retrograde in Virgo that was opposite to Saturn in Pisces and co-present with Uranus and Pluto in Virgo. The retrograde began on January 28 and concluded on April 19. On Friday, March 26, Mars was applying to a conjunction with Uranus within less than a degree of exactitude. Meanwhile, both planets in Virgo were within less than two degrees of an opposition with Saturn in Pisces.

Uranus and Mars are both revolutionary, unruly, combative planets, eager to hurl Molotov cocktails and tear down obstacles and institutions. When their energies are melded, the results are explosive, often manifesting in accidents, injuries, unexpected surges of anger or strife, and technologies that are deleterious to human life. Moreover, this supercharged, impulsive pair were diametrically opposed in the sky to Saturn in Pisces. Mars is an extremely hot planet who encourages acting on instinct whereas chilly Saturn favors acting methodically and incrementally over a long timescale. Mars says “go,” and Saturn says “no.” This highly pressurized planetary combination suggests intense pressure, the shattering of patterns, and the frustration of encountering massive obstacles - the thwarting of the Will and challenges that deny desires. Nearby Pluto amplifies the danger inherent in this volatile brew and injects its own themes of death, rebirth, and transformation. It’s easy to see how this archetypal combination can speak to Tony’s violent injury and its concordant frustration, but what is really fascinating is what happened in the following days.

An untimed chart for April 8, 1965

As if the wicked pileup of Mars, Uranus, and Pluto retrograde in Virgo opposite to Saturn in Pisces wasn’t enough, there was a Mercury retrograde in Aries that started on March 29, 1965, a mere 3 days after the day I suspect the accident occurred. Since Virgo is one of Mercury’s home signs, this means that Mercury was informing the character of all the planets in Virgo (including Mars) while slowing down and preparing to suddenly change direction. Since the Mercury retrograde fell in Aries, one of Mars’ home signs, Mercury was in turn taking its cues from Mars. Therefore Mars and Mercury were actually in a state of mutual reception, abiding in each other’s signs. Traditionally speaking, Aries and Virgo are averse to one another, but this mutual reception suggests that the processes described by the retrogrades were intimately interlinked.

Now retrogrades signify reversals of fortune, as from our standpoint on Earth, it appears that planets move backwards across the ecliptic, in defiance of their typical orderly procession. They go against the grain. On a tactile level, this manifests as revision, review, rearrangement, and the adjustment of plans to fit shifting circumstances. With Mercury ruling thought, communication, and travel, its retrogrades often bring about a shift in thinking, revising what one has spoken or written, or alterations of travel plans. Tony’s plans to tour Europe and his musical aspirations were completely upended. The path he thought his life was taking was completely flipped on its head. Like a planet stationing retrograde, he had to stop, quit his job, leave the Byrds & the Bees, change course, and move in a new direction musically.

The midpoint of every Mercury retrograde cycle is its inferior conjunction with the Sun. These conjunctions highlight moments of clarity amidst the general confusion and frustration of the retrograde. They are the eye of the storm. Oftentimes, solutions arise for whatever problem arose at the start of the retrograde. Revelations dawn, penetrating insights are gleaned, and new strategies appear.

The midpoint for Mercury’s retrograde in Aries in 1965 fell on April 8 at 18 degrees of Aries. Interestingly, Venus was very close at hand for this conjunction at 17 degrees of Aries, and Venus in Aries is actually Tony’s natal Venus placement. Every time Venus returns to its original place in the birthchart, it presents a reaffirmation of one’s images of beauty and ways of relating and creating. I wager that it is around this time that Tony was introduced to the work of Django Reinhardt and was inspired to take up the guitar once more. Arguably, in early April, Tony began to apprehend a path forward in which he could continue to write righteous riffs, but with a new technique guiding his hands. Although the Martial incident at the factory brought a setback and injury, it is through the related Mercury retrograde and its Venusian cazimi that Tony began to rethink and re-envision the course of his life as a musician.

As I mentioned above, Tony’s birthtime is unknown, so until a timed chart emerges or Tony shares the date of the gruesome accident, all this talk of retrogrades is speculation. However, through studying the story and sitting with these transits, what emerges is an inspiring tale of human determination and the triumph of genius over debilitating setbacks. Tony easily could have packed up his guitar and carried on with his life, perhaps continuing a career in welding. Instead, he summoned courage and perseverance, experimenting with strings and faux fingertips until he gave birth to brand new way of playing guitar that has utterly remade the musical landscape. A new form of beauty was born from his blood.

Bibliography

Iommi, Tony, and T. J. Lammers. Iron Man: My Journey through Heaven and Hell with Black Sabbath. Simon & Schuster, 2012.

Stars & Artists: James Hetfield, Metallica, & Mars in Libra

James Hetfield was born in Los Angeles, California on August 3rd, 1963 at 6:16PM. He is best known as the frontman, co-founder, and principal songwriter of the legendary band Metallica who spearheaded the thrash metal movement of the 1980's.

James Hetfield - Live in Amsterdam, April 2023

James Hetfield was born with Mars in Libra in the 10th whole-sign house of career and legacy. Ordinarily, Mars in Libra is considered a difficult placement, but Hetfield’s life is a great example of a debilitated planet put to good use. Many highpoints of his musical career correspond to moments when his Mars was activated either by annual profections or by transit.

James Hetfield’s natal chart. Note Mars at 4° Libra in 10H

Libra is a Venus-ruled sign associated with the arts. The charts of musicians often have prominent Libra placements so it makes sense that James would establish his legacy by spearheading a popular band. Mars’ presence here steers that artistic output in a decidedly aggressive direction. Mars, after all, is the patron of heavy metal. Therefore, the substance of James’ work is Venusian (creating art, bringing people together), but he does so with Martial tools (distorted guitars and growling vocals).

The first time the 10th House is activated by annual profections is at age 9. At 9 years old, James learned to play his first instrument: piano. At age 14, James began playing his older brother’s guitar and some time the next year, he started jamming with his brother and friends. At the time, he was in a 4th House profection year. Since James’ whole-sign 4th House is Aries, his natal Mars placement was activated. Interestingly, the 4th House is at the base of the chart, and they primarily jammed in their basement (Sabina).

Metallica was formed in 1981 after James responded to an ad that drummer Lars Ulrich placed in a newspaper called The Recycler that read: “Drummer looking for other metal musicians to jam with, Tygers of Pan Tang, Diamond Head and Iron Maiden" (MTV). They met in May 1981 when Saturn was retrograde in Libra and conjunct James’ Mars.

However, the band officially started on October 28, 1981 once Saturn was moving direct. The Sun was also conjunct James’ MC at 4° Scorpio in the 11th House of Groups and Friends. Like the 10th House, the MC is also associated with career and vocation. In a whole-sign house system, the MC can float around the top hemisphere of a chart, drawing in significations from the house it falls into career and vocation. The placement of James’ Mars-ruled MC in the 11th House manifests in the fact that Metallica’s success rests upon James and Lars’ lifelong friendship.

James Hetfield's natal chart with an outer wheel showing the transits for October 28, 1981. Note the Jupiter opposition.

After recruiting a bassist and another guitarist, Metallica played their first gigs and recorded “Hit the Lights” for the Metal Massacre 1 compilation, generating a lot of buzz in the underground metal scene (MTV).

On July 6, 1982, Metallica recorded the No Life ‘Til Leather demo which sent further ripples through the tape-trading circuits. It also attracted the attention of producer Jon Zazula who later financed the band’s first studio album Kill ‘Em All. Unbelievably, July 6 was the day of a Mars-Saturn conjunction in Libra opposite James’ Jupiter in Aries - a powerful act of Venusian malefica that summoned a big opportunity.

James Hetfield’s chart plus an outer wheel for July 6, 1982. Note the Mars-Saturn conjunction at 15° Libra.

One of the most literal manifestations of James’ Mars is the release of Metallica’s fourth album ...And Justice For All on August 25, 1988. Libra is the sign of the Scales. Its corresponding Tarot card Justice is typically depicted as a judge holding scales and a sword. In an act of shocking synchronistic literalism, James designed the album cover, choosing to depict Lady Justice holding a sword & scales.

Metallica’s …And Justice For All

The album was released on Aug 25, 1988, the day before Mars stationed retrograde in Aries. The Sun-Mars opposition at the middle of this Mars retrograde happened at 5° Libra-Aries, less than a degree away from James’ Mars. Unlike previous releases, Justice’s lyrics focused on political injustices, corruption, discrimination, and environmental issues. Musically, it was Metallica’s most progressive album, featuring long and complex compositions (Wikipedia).

Retrogrades often signify reversals in direction. Interestingly, ...And Justice For All was the last true thrash album the band every released. Its follow-up, The Black Album, was Metallica’s most commercially successful record. But it also marked a significant departure from their original sound, as they moved in a more radio-friendly direction (Ghost).

Metallica continues to tour internationally to this day, having become one of the most influential and successful bands, not just in metal, but in the entire history of music so far.

Bibliography

...“...And Justice for All (Album).” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 13 Jan. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/...And_Justice_for_All_(album).

Ghost. “Metallica Album Sales - Ranking Their Best-Selling Albums and Musical Legacy.” Metalhead Community, 19 June 2020, metalheadcommunity.com/best-selling-metallica-albums/#:~:text=The%20creative%20and%20commercial%20pinnacle,more%20than%2030%20million%20copies.

Hammer, Metal. “Metallica’s Hetfield on His Past with the Piano.” BLABBERMOUTH.NET, Metal Hammer, 8 May 2009, blabbermouth.net/news/metallica-s-hetfield-on-his-past-with-the-piano.

“Metallica Timeline.” MTV: Icon, MTV, 2007, www.mtv.com/onair/icon/metallica/timeline/?id=1.

Sabina. “James Hetfield Biography.” Geocities: James Hetfield Biography, Sabina.Metallica, 2001, geocities.com/james7hetfield/bio2.htm.

Stars & Artists: Neige of Alcest & the Moon in Pisces

Stéphane Paut, known by his stage name "Neige," was born in Bagnols-sur-Cèze, France on April 16, 1985. He is best known for his project Alcest which pioneered the blackgaze subgenre. Neige's birth time is unknown. Although the Moon moves quickly, it was entirely in Pisces on April 16, and this placement deeply colors his artistic output.

Symbolized by a pair of fish, Pisces teases out the tensions of duality. One fish ascends to spiritual realms; the other descends to matter. Pisces is the interplay between imagination and incarnation, the ideal and the real. Pisces is intimately aware of the fact that we are all One, and yet we are simultaneously quite separate. Seeking divine union, but forced to undergo the vexations of earthly existence, Pisces can hold an air of discontent, at times plunging into despair.

As a child, Neige experienced ecstatic visions of an Otherworld. In an interview with Metal Hammer, Neige described it as "this glowing landscape, music floating in the air, colours that don’t even exist here. It was a spiritual experience that changed me to the core” (Everley).

The music of Alcest is Neige's attempt to capture the bliss and beauty of that world as well as the pain of living outside of it. In a recent video from Alcest, Neige stated "Alcest is music that speaks of the beyond, of what our mortal senses cannot perceive, of a nostalgia for a distant other world that we all come from but have forgotten” (Ty).

No Alcest album captures this mixture of ecstatic bliss, sorrow, and longing better than 2010's Ecailles de Lune or "Moon Scales” in English. Neige said "it is about a man who decides to leave one world for another one, literally. Like a passage to another reality, another state of existence” (Prophecy).

Ecailles de Lune by Alcest released March 26, 2010

Musically, its the perfect summation of Alcest as a project. Glittering shoegazing passages ebb and flow only to be tempest tossed by torrents of blast beats and tortured howls. Lyrically, it contains many of Neige's most touching grasps at capturing his fairyland. In Part 2 of the title track, Neige sings "I would like to disappear without fear under the waves, to hear their bewitched lament spring forth from the depths. They'd call me from their kingdom of pearls and sharp marine scales to take me away from my kind, from a world which is foreign to me. "

Although the 'Moon Scales' in the title may refer to musical scales, its hard not to think of glittering fish scales as well. After all, the woman on the cover appears to be a mermaid, a human/seafish hybrid (fitting for Pisces' double-bodied nature). Mythologically, mermaids are alluring folk that draw unwary sailors away with visions and drown them beneath the waves.

The double-bodied nature can also be seen in Neige’s alternating between clean singing and tortured screams. In an interview with Stereoboard, he said “The crystal clear voice, that’s the ethereal, heavenly, otherwordly me [but the harsh vocals are] the screams of frustration of a soul trapped in a body like this” (Mills).

Being a mutable water sign ruled by expansive Jupiter, Pisces is often likened to the ocean. When writing Ecailles de Lune, Neige said "I was especially inspired by the seaside, the energy and the exaltation you can feel when you sit in front of the sea at night. It appears terribly fascinating, full of secrets and scary at the same time” (Prophecy).

Neige's untimed chart plus an outer wheel displaying the transits for Ecailles de Lune’s release date

Traditionally, Pisces is ruled by Jupiter. As the Greater Benefic, Jupiter affirms, stimulates growth, and bestows luck and success. Ecailles de Lune was released on March 26, 2010. At that time, transiting Jupiter was in Pisces, either co-present with or conjunct Neige's natal Moon placement. The record was a great success, winning Alcest a bigger audience and expanding awareness of Neige's unique blend of black metal and shoegaze.

Currently, Saturn is transiting Pisces. As the slowest visible planet, Saturn can speak to legacy and longevity. Neige is still making music to this day and has inspired numerous other blackgaze and post-metal artists, many of whom he has collaborated with like Deafheaven, Sylvaine, Harakiri for the Sky, and Lantlôs. In the fall of 2023, Alcest embarked on a Ecailles de Lune anniversary tour in which they played the album in its entirety, a testament to its staying power and emotional resonance it holds.

Bibliography

“Alcest - Écailles de Lune.” Prophecy Productions, Prophecy Productions, 26 Mar. 2010, en.prophecy.de/en/Artists/Alcest/Alcest-Ecailles-De-Lune.html?listtype=search&searchparam=alcest.

Everley, Dave. “How Alcest Invented Blackgaze and Brought Spirituality to Black Metal.” LouderSound.Com, Metal Hammer, 2 Mar. 2020, www.loudersound.com/features/how-alcest-invented-blackgaze-bringing-spirituality-to-black-metal.

Mills, Matt. “Between Two Worlds: Alcest Discuss the Psychic Crisis of ‘spiritual Instinct’ - Stereoboard.” Stereoboard.Com, Steroboard, 14 Oct. 2019, www.stereoboard.com/content/view/225460/9.

Ty, Kendy, director. Beyond Alcest. YouTube, YouTube, 24 Apr. 2023, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1l99owJjU8. Accessed 15 Jan. 2024.

Infinite Oceans: Pisces & Post-Metal

We live in a time of afterworlds. History speaks of postcolonialism and economics of late-stage capitalism. Academia has post-structuralism and postmodernism, while the world of music has post-punk and post-disco. These enterprises are defined by their temporality, the niche they occupy along the timeline of ideas, each one founded in reaction to whatever came before. In these contexts, the prefix post simply means “after” or “later.” Not so for post-metal.

History

Encompassing a vast range of bands and unique sounds, “post-metal” emerged in the 90’s as a term to describe artists who were going beyond the confines of conventional heavy metal. These avant-garde artists blurred the boundaries between extreme metal’s subgenres like black, death, and doom, while also incorporating elements from outside the metal community, namely psychedelia, shoegaze, and grunge. During the “alternative music” boom of the 90’s, artists like Neurosis, Godflesh, and The Melvins stayed true to metal’s melancholia while synthesizing its harsh textures with new sounds. As music journalist Simon Reynolds noted:

“Post-rock doesn't have the same temporal aspect that post-disco or post-punk have; it's not about the ripples set in motion by a galvanizing "event." Rather, it evokes a sense of "going beyond" the structures of a genre of music without completely abandoning its legacy of attitudes and assumptions. For similar reasons, the term post-metal seems increasingly useful to describe the vast and variegated swath of genres (the thousand flavors of doom/black/death/grind/drone/sludge/etc., ad infinitum) that emerged from the early '90s onward.” (Reynolds)

Broadly speaking, post-metal can be split into two camps. The first is simply a heavier version of post-rock, the instrumental “cathartic mini-symphonies” (Holmes) first pioneered by artists like Godspeed You! Black Emperor and later perfected by Explosions in the Sky. Much like its lighter little brother, post-metal prioritizes atmosphere and emotionality, washing listeners with alternating waves of darkness and light. Nearly always instrumental, this mature and weighty sound is best embodied today by bands like Pelican, Russian Circles, and Year of No Light.

On the other hand, we can also use post-metal to refer to the many fusion genres that have emerged from artists synthesizing various flavors of metal and non-metal genres. For example, post-metal can refer to blackgaze artists like Alcest and Deafheaven who fuse black metal’s depressive sonic assault with shoegaze’s lush walls of sound. Oftentimes, incredibly slow drone metal artists like Earth and Sunn O))) are also labeled as post-metal, for pushing beyond the sluggish bounds of doom metal into strange and spacious terrain. Experimental Japanese bands like Mono and Boris are also at home here, drawing upon everything from classical to drone to noise to create music which transcends genre distinctions entirely (Wiederhorn).

Pisces

In their desire to create truly transcendent music that encapsulates both bitterness and bliss, this effusive and expansive range of bands is best identified with the zodiac sign of Pisces, the last sign of winter in the Northern Hemisphere. If we take 0° of Aries as the beginning of the zodiac, then Pisces is the last sign, the final destination on a long circular journey.

When the Sun passes through Pisces each year (Feb 20 - March 20), we can see it manifest in soggy spring rains, snowmelt running down river valleys, and the sea to which it all flows. Although the darkness is still dominant, its reign is nearly at an end. During these lightening days, we look with hope toward the vernal equinox and the rebirth of spring. Underneath it all runs a current of redemption. We can feel the light restlessly wriggling out of the dark and the coming unification of the two.

“The One gives birth to the two”

Tao Te Ching, Chp. 42

Symbolized by a pair of fish, Pisces contains the paradoxes and tensions of duality. One fish ascends to the realm of spirit; the other descends to material reality. This the interplay between imagination and incarnation, the ideal and the real, the infinite and the immanent. Pisces is intimately aware of the fact that we are all One, and yet we are simultaneously quite separate. Although we may all be the Universe experiencing itself, we must do so subjectively; our life is lived from our own limited viewpoint. As such, Pisces often desperately desires to transcend material existence entirely and ascend back to the Source of all things. Pisces is the pilgrim on a sojourn in a foreign land, singing “This world is not my home; I’m just a-passing through.”

In the Tarot, the Moon card has long been associated with Pisces. Visually, the Rider-Waite-Smith version and its variants demonstrates this sense of walking a narrow path to reach a promised land. Picking a path between darkness and light, Pisces treads the razor’s edge.

The Moon XVIII as illustrated by Pamela Coleman Smith

Seeking divine union, but forced to undergo the vexations of earthly existence, Pisces can hold an air of discontent, at times plunging into despair. Spiritual sensitivity can easily give way to disappointment when hopes are dashed upon the hard rocks of reality. Therefore Pisces can manifest as the soul who drowns their sorrows as well as the saint. Unable to reconcile spirit and matter, there is a temptation to escape and lose oneself, not in spiritual practice, but in substance. Here, spiritual visions become delusion. Mired in Māyā, one cannot see beyond the veil, remaining chained to cyclic existence.

Pisces is a complicated sign, one with many layers of meaning. To best assess how post-metal expresses Piscean energy, we must think topographically. If we view the signs as places instead of personalities, Pisces is an ocean. Let us consider how four planets each affect and are affected by this seascape.

Jupiter

Pisces is the nocturnal domicile of Jupiter. It is his seaside home, where he demonstrates his receptive side, his ability to yield, and to feel great currents of emotion. Above all, Jupiter desires to unify and expand. Like oceans enfolding continents, he is big enough to contain and cohere all things. While Mercury analyzes, Jupiter synthesizes, stitching strands of thought together in lush tapestries of meaning. Naturally, he governs philosophy, religion, and law - systems of belief that bring things together in a satisfying whole.

Similarly, post-metal is unparalleled in its depth and breadth, painting with the pull palette of emotions, including depression, aggression, joy, and ecstasy. Like weather at sea, songs can shift violently, swelling with torrents of passion that give way to passages of exceeding spiritual sublimity. Like many tributaries leading to the sea, post-metal artists display multiplicity in their influences too, citing everything from jazz to classical to ambient.

Although awash in brooding melancholy, the genre carries a sense that things will get better; brighter days lie on the other side of storms. This theme is most apparent in blackgaze, which infuses black metal melancholy with major chords and sparkling guitar effects. For instance, much of Alcest’s catalog recognizes darkness and depression, while also saying: things will get better.

Here we encounter Jupiter as the sage and his corresponding virtues of gratitude and optimism. One thinks of his buoyancy, the way faith or meaning can keep one afloat during tough times. Often strikingly cinematic in tone, many of the most gripping post-metal tracks build in crescendos that crash down with the force of divine revelation - equal parts epiphany and ecstasy.

Venus

In post-metal’s ecstatic crescendos and shimmering leads, we find Venus, planet of love, luxury, and deep, abiding beauty. Venus is exalted in the sign of Pisces. Here the Lady of Heaven is lifted high, elevated to a throne of seafoam and cerulean, cowries and anemones, pearls and periwinkle. With both Venus and Jupiter empowered her, Pisces is a thoroughly benefic sign. Much of the metal’s malevolence and general harshness is tempered in post-metal. Artists instead opt for dense arrangements in lush, buttery tones. Something satisfying, and downright hedonic often swims beneath the surface of these songs of these repetitive rhythms. It glitters and it glows, like bioluminescent waves lapping the shoreline.

Neptune

Many modern astrologers assign Neptune to Pisces as its sign ruler. Although this is a break from tradition, it's not wholly inappropriate. Recently, I learned from an episode of the fabulous Luminaries In and Out of Sect Podcast that the ancient astrologer Manilius associated Pisces with the Roman God Neptune. Podcast guest and astrologer Cameron Cassidy made reference to this passage in Manilius. Naturally, out of curiosity, I tracked it down myself afterward. In this didactic poem called the Astronomica, Manilius makes the comparison while relating several Roman deities to the zodiacal signs. He states:

“Neptune acknowledges the Fishes [Pisces] as his own for all that they are in heaven." (Anthony).

Let us consider this sympathy further. Following their defeat of the Titans, Zeus/Jupiter and his Olympian brothers drew lots to decide who would rule the different domains of the world. To Jupiter was given the skies, to Pluto the underworld, and to Poseidon/Neptune the sea. However, Zeus/Jupiter was often used in a titular fashion, to indicate right rulership. As a figure of authority, we might think of the god Neptune as Jupiter of the oceans, not as “Sky-Father” but “Sea-Father.” Just like his brother, Neptune ruled abundance and bounty, but that of the oceans. He was also famously unfaithful to his wife, fathering many children with sea nymph paramours. This mythological tale and Manilius offers Neptune a doorway into Piscean affinity, without granting him full-blown rulership.

Image of Deep Blue Neptune by NASA

In planetary meanings, we might draw some distinctions, however. Whereas Jupiter expands, unifies, and affirms, the planet of Neptune weaves stories, seeds dreams, and dissolves boundaries. Water is the universal solvent. Given enough time, it can erode anything, take any substance into itself. Neptune has this kind of effect, ebbing away sharp edges. Likened to liquids like mists, fog, rain, and oceans, Neptune governs the symbolic and spiritual. Why? Because like water, the Imaginal will always remain somewhat intangible. Try to grasp water and it slips between your fingers in the same manner that consciously focusing upon a dream robs it of its symbolic potency. Similarly, psychedelic experiences can be incredibly profound, eroding our lonely egos, and greatly expanding our perspective. Yet they often resist our abilities to wrap them in rational language. They defy our comprehension. Whether it be a dream, psychedelic trip, or spiritual vision, describing a peak experience can be maddeningly difficult. One often feels like a man attempting to describe the ocean to someone who has never seen it before. With your small mouth noises, you point to glasses of water, puddles, and pools, but the point will never be fully understood.

The Neptunian appears in post-metal in washy guitar effects - echo, reverb, delay - which warp, elongate, and mutate notes. Laying down complex and often repetitive rhythms, drummers employ a lot of ghost notes, beats which are barely heard. Like ghosts, they are so-named because they lie at the periphery of our perception. These musical techniques create surrealistic soundscapes in which listeners can lose themselves. Songs end in psychedelic shimmers, leaving one with the feeling of waking from a dream. Moreover, post-metal is notoriously difficult to describe, in part because artists blur distinctions between so many genres. Such struggles with language lead us inevitably to Mercury.

Mercury

Typically, Mercury is this planet of skilled articulation, translation, and communication. However, Mercury experiences both its detriment and fall in the sign of Pisces. Why? Theoretically, this drop in potency is owed to the fact that Pisces is opposite to Mercury’s home sign of Virgo. In dry and discreet Virgo, Mercury can neatly label and categorize. On dry land, such a task is easy, but at sea, it's impossible.

Truthfully, “post-metal” is only a clumsy term to categorize artists which are un-categorizable. A grand diversity of artists is somehow shoehorned under this term, mostly because they don’t fit anywhere else. But perhaps that’s the point! Maybe a philosophy of anti-nominalism underlies this whole endeavor. Takaakira Goto from Japanese band Mono once said,

“Music is communicating the incommunicable; that means a term like post-rock doesn't mean much to us, as the music needs to transcend genre to be meaningful" (St. John)

Secondly, Mercury’s Piscean debility appears in the de-emphasis on vocals. The majority of post-metal bands are intentionally instrumental. When vocals are utilized, they are often indistinct, fuzzed out by effects like reverb or vocoders. Bands like Neurosis and Cult of Luna featured garbled shouting. Many others like Ninth Moon Black use samples of spoken word, often clipped from films. Over a quarter of all Alcest songs are sung in glossolalia. Speech’s semantic quality is abandoned, and language instead becomes an ecstatic extension of the music itself. In general, the prominence of the human voice is reduced. To that point, Russian Circles’ bassist Brian May recently said

“So much vocal-forward music is about identifying or relating to a persona that’s being projected at you. And more and more, I find that is a handicap rather than an asset to a lot of music" (Peters).

Conclusion

Although the majority of the formative bands in the post-metal seascape got their start in the late 80’s, it is interesting to note that the term “post-metal” was first coined in 1994 when Saturn was in Pisces and these artists were hitting their stride (Wiederhorn). However, unlike my study of black metal and Aquarius, it's much harder to find a moment when the genre was concretized, perhaps sheerly due to its inherent diffuse nature.

At the very least, it's worth noting that the mid-90's marked a huge turning point for metal. In the wild heyday of “alternative music,” greater hybridity between genres became the norm. Now, it’s not uncommon for contemporary artists like Downfall of Gaia or Conjurer to amalgamate sludge, black, post-hardcore, and crustpunk. But 40 years ago, it would have been unheard of. As heavy metal continues to move in a more fluid, experimental direction, we are all indebted to the pioneers of post-metal who stretched this genre’s boundaries beyond anyone’s imaginings.

Here you can find a Spotify playlist featuring many of my favorite songs across the broad world of post-metal, including many of the artists mentioned above. There are genre staples like Pelican and Russian Circles (both from my hometown of Chicago) as well as newcomers such as Russia's Show Me A Dinosaur and Ohio's If These Trees Could Talk. Enjoy!

Bibliography

Anthony. “Manilius, Neptune, and the Fishes.” Seven Stars Astrology, Seven Stars Astrology, 7 Mar. 2018, https://sevenstarsastrology.com/manilius-neptune-and-the-fishes/.

Holmes, Pete Holmes. “You Made It Weird with Pete Holmes #360: Philip Jamieson.” The Nerdist, Apple Podcasts, 29 Mar. 2017, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/philip-jamieson/id475878118?i=1000383266505.

Peters, Austin and Tom Conway, directors. Russian Circles | Audiotree From Nothing. YouTube, Audiotree, 9 Mar. 2023, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_oYQnv4Bsg. Accessed 20 Mar. 2023.

Reynolds, Simon. “In Praise of ‘in-between’ Periods in Pop History.” Slate Magazine, Slate, 29 May 2009, https://slate.com/culture/2009/05/in-praise-of-in-between-periods-in-pop-history.html.

St John, Colin (23 April 2009). "No bubblegum inside". Time Out. Retrieved 8 December 2012.

Wiederhorn, Jon. “A Brief History of Post-Metal.” Bandcamp Daily, Bandcamp, 19 Nov. 2019, https://daily.bandcamp.com/lists/a-brief-history-of-post-metal.

Sitting with Saturn and Softness

“Alive, a man is supple, soft;
In death, unbending, rigorous.
All creatures, grass and trees, alive
Are plastic but are pliant too,
And dead, are friable and dry.
Unbending rigor is the mate of death,
And wielding softness, company of life:
Unbending soldiers get no victories;
The stiffest tree is readiest for the axe.
The strong and mighty topple from their place;
The soft and yielding rise above them all.”

— Tao Te Ching, Chapter 76. Translated by Raymond B. Blakney, 1955ce

With Saturn hovering around the last degree of Aquarius, my own Saturn Return is coming to a close. During these past few weeks with Saturn under the clarifying beams of the Sun, ruminations upon my Saturn return’s significance have become revelations. Although we often think of Saturn as a planet of incredible hardness and rigidity, this latest lesson was one of softness.

On the run-up to Saturn’s recent conjunction with the Sun on the 15th, I took a mile-long walk to a local graveyard, where I watched crows alight upon the branches of soaring cedar trees. Chickadees chittered and clicked in the shorter yews and spruces. I spotted some crocuses emerging from the earth and a handful of shy crabapple blossoms - subtle signs of spring’s imminent emergence.

For the soundtrack to my journey, I’d chosen a recent conversation on the Saturnvox podcast between the stellar McCalla Ann and the relational astrologer Diana Rose Harper. The topic at hand? Saturn, of course. The pair weaved their conversation through many of Saturn’s traditional significations like suffering, structure, and limitations. However, their most fruitful interaction came from a question of devotion and relationship. If we dwell in a living Cosmos in which one can relate to all manner of sentient beings, including the planets, then what does it look like to be in right relation with Saturn?

From their experiences as astro-magical practitioners, McCalla and Diana each shared the face of Saturn they interact with. Neither of them reported seeing Saturn in his traditional Greco-Roman image of a weary old man. Although each of them noted Saturn’s appearance as someone or something elderly, ancient, and numinous, neither saw Saturn as feeble senex.

And naturally, this provoked a question in me: how do I see Saturn?

Saturn as depicted by Cristoforo de Predis, a 15th century Italian illuminator.

Throughout my Saturn Return, I have cultivated a devotional relationship with Saturn. The intention was originally somewhat remedial. I thought, “If I make offerings, recite prayers, and spend time with Saturn, then surely he will lessen his blows. Perhaps his lessons will land with less force.” At the very least, I hoped to work with my Saturn Return intentionally versus incidentally.

How foolish of me. Saturn is always going to Saturn. In hindsight, I now wonder whether I actually activated Saturn, drawing an excess of his essence into my experience of the past three years. Observing my body in the mirror after a shower, I noted recently how spare and thin I have become, how sharply my bones jut out from my skin, how weathered my skin is. Reflecting on personal conflicts that cropped up and the deaths of two friends, I rolled through moments of sorrow, of bitterness, of regret, of loneliness and hate.

Considering my own devotional interactions with Saturn, the visage I have witnessed of the Greater Malefic has often been vulture-like. But need it always be?

One of the elusive attributes of Saturn addressed by Diana and McCalla was water. Neither his domiciles of Capricorn or Aquarius are water signs, yet they retain a connection to water through their archetypal imagery. In its original iconography, Capricorn is a chimeric creature: half-goat and half-fish. Likewise, Aquarius is represented by the image of a Water-bearer, a person pouring out a libation upon the Earth. In this hydrologic dance, Diana and McCalla pried at the possibility of Saturn containing some softness as well, with McCalla suggesting that Saturn, like the Buddha, favors the Middle Way, the path between polar extremes.

Reflecting upon this, I realized that I had perhaps needlessly forced Saturn into the extreme of deprivation and denial. Of the manifold masks Saturn may wear, I had compressed his vast potentia into an image of brittleness and bitterness - that of a hobbled, scowling old man or the skeletal ascetic meditating at the forest’s edge. While those images are deeply vital to Saturn’s milieu, so are contrary images of grandmothers and water. If Saturn preaches the Middle Way, then the Saturnian move for me at this point would be to relax the rigor of my self-imposed discipline.

“Nothing in the world
is as soft and yielding as water.
Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible,
nothing can surpass it.
The soft overcomes the hard;
the gentle overcomes the rigid.”

— Tao Te Ching, Chapter 78. Translated by Stephen Mitchell, 1995

In my own chart, Saturn occupies the 5th House of Good Fortune, one connected to pleasure, creativity, and children. More than any other event in the past three years, the birth of my daughter has defined my Saturn Return Although this shift in role and responsibility has aged me, it has done so through something soft, something young. My daughter has no cynicism nor bitterness. She approaches each experience with eagerness and “eyes unclouded by hate” a la Princess Mononoke. Although I thought Saturn would harden me, my daughter has made me soft.

And if ultimately what Saturn wants is longevity, he will call us to soften, to use the gentle touch, to take our time. Because, as mentioned in the above verses from the Tao Te Ching, longevity does not arise from rigidity. It arises from that which is yielding, subtle, and soft: water.

A few days after my epiphany, I heard another astounding conversation on Saturn, albeit obliquely. On a recent episode of my friend Brett's podcast 21st Century Vitalism, contemporary thinker Dr. John Vervaeke discussed the aging process as the thing that draws us into right relation, saying "[As they age]...what people zero in on ultimately is their relationships - with themselves, with Reality, and with other people."

Going on, he discusses how this change in values in reflected in a qualitative shift in relating, moving away from relationships founded upon need gratification to relationships founded upon the inherent worth of the Other. Instead of asking how Others are relevant to one's own egocentric needs and desires, one asks "How am I important to anther person or thing's survival? How am I relevant to them?"

If the Saturnian aging process is about getting into right relationship with others, then I'm starting by getting right with Saturn. To allow him to live outside of the austere iron cage I've crammed him into. To allow Saturn to be my grandmothers, to be both firm boundaries and open arms, to be loving care driven tenderly by the awareness of mortality. To be water.

Hail Saturn! Aquarius & Black Metal

Content Warning: Metal is a musical genre featuring dark themes. Darkest amongst its subgenres is black metal. A full discussion of the subgenre and its origins would be incomplete without mention of arson, murder, and self-harm. If you are sensitive to these subjects, you may want to refrain from reading.

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Few musical genres draw more divisive reactions than metal. Its intensity, unconventional song structures, harsh vocals, and focus on extreme emotions can be off-putting to the average music listener. Then again, many folks dislike spicy food, while others relish curries and griot. It all comes down to a matter of taste, with many enjoying both food and art forms which mingle pain with pleasure. And then there are some forms of metal which simply seem off-putting and painful by design. Enter black metal.

History

Clad in pentagrams, bandolero belts, and spiked armbands, when black metal burst onto the world stage in the 1980’s, it deliberately fed into the ongoing Satanic panic. Intended to provoke pearl-clutching and hand wringing amongst the complacent and mild-mannered, pioneering black metal acts like Venom, Hellhammer, and Bathory released influential albums with provocative titles like Welcome to Hell, Satanic Rites, and Under the Sign of the Black Mark. Building upon many other innovations in extreme metal like double-bass drums and wild costuming, early black metal artists took the genre of metal to its furthest limits. As I stated previously, all metal subgenres find their unique flavor in some form of extremity, taking a musical element and driving it to the edges. Black metal finds its essence in atmospheric and idealistic extremity. Musically, much of early black metal was like thrash and speed metal: fast, aggressive, but much darker. They also opted for a rawer, crunchier guitar tone, and notably Quorthon of Bathory started singing in a demonic croak. Moreover, what set these groups apart was their subject matter: misanthropy, chaos, and the occult, especially Satanism.

Although the first wave bands created the template for black metal, it was the second wave scene in Norway that perfected it. Groups like Mayhem, Darkthrone, and Immortal crystallized the subgenre into the form we know today. Many of them ditched thrashing and chugging guitar riffs for tremolo picking at high speeds while drummers pummeled their kits with blast beats. Appearing demonic or dead, Mayhem started wearing black and white “corpse-paint” at their performances and other bands soon followed suit. Vocalists shrieked like Nazghul over lo-fi production. Band logos became indecipherable, bearing a closer resemblance to twisted, leafless tree limbs. Whereas first wave bands employed Satanism as a gimmick, the second wave kids wanted you to know that they really did believe in Satan. Burning churches, cutting themselves on stage, and even murdering one another, the second wave scene brought into being the darkest musical genre imaginable. In the frozen darkness of the Scandinavian tundra, black metal found its zenith.

“It is an extremist sect of an extremist sect. ”

— Benjamin Olson

Aquarius

Falling squarely in the middle of winter, there is no better sign for black metal than Aquarius. Typically in the tropical zodiac, the Sun enters the sign on January 20th each year. At this point in the solar cycle, the deepest darkness of the Winter Solstice is behind us. The daylight is slowly increasing, but the darkness still prevails. These are often the coldest days of winter. Here in the frozen wastes, the Sun experiences his exile; the vital spirit is assailed by harsh climes and bitter winds. Endless ice and snow blanket the landscape while oppressive gray clouds hover ominously in the atmosphere. The larder grows thinner each day and will not be replenished until the thaw. Night triumphs over day.

Modern astrology lends fairly optimistic associations to Aquarius such as quirky, humanitarian, and progressive. However, these are fairly new attributes for the sign of the Waterbearer, stemming from the erroneous assignment of Uranus to Aquarius, starting with John Varley in 1828 (Farnell, 2005). It is through the traditional ruler of Aquarius that we must understand the sign, its anti-Solar nature, and its connection to black metal. Enter Saturn.

Saturn

Of the visible planets, Saturn is furthest from the Sun. Shining a dingy, brownish color and creeping slowly through the zodiac, the ancients associated Saturn with elder gods such as Cronos and Kumarbi, fearsome lords who separated the heavens and earth by castrating their sky fathers (McCann, 1996). One of Saturn's Latin epithets is Falcifer meaning “scythe-wielder” (Lilly, 1659). With his sickle, Saturn governs the fall harvest, distributes the consequential harvest of one’s actions, and gathers souls at the end of life. As lord of lines and limits, Saturn outlines structures, creates containers, and delineates distinctions, including the final boundary between life and death. Named the Greater Malefic by the ancients, much of Saturn’s purview is that which is ostensibly negative: chronic illness, misery, melancholy, depression, grief, and loss. He may be a harsh teacher, but Saturn also stimulates virtues like endurance, erudition, and stability.

The Thema Mundi

Notice Saturn’s position in Capricorn opposite the Moon in Cancer, plus the sign of Aquarius opposing the Sun in Leo.

From the Hellenistic astrologers of Alexandria, we have inherited the Thema Mundi, displayed above. Held to be the birth chart of the Cosmos itself, the Thema Mundi was used as a teaching tool. Much like a mandala, the Thema Mundi is a contemplative image laden with meaning. Although superficially simplistic, continued meditation upon its form yields many discoveries. Notably, the Saturnian signs of Capricorn and Aquarius stand directly opposed to the signs of the luminaries, Cancer and Leo. While the Sun and the Moon govern life, light, warmth, and birth, Saturn stands in bitter opposition, lording over death, darkness, cold, and decay. Hissing, spitting, and spurning the light, Saturn’s signs set themselves against the work of the luminaries. Saturn therefore lends his nature to the aspect known as the opposition, in which two planets are 180° apart, occupying opposite signs and standing at odds with one another. This antagonism is best expressed in the dichotomy of the Leo-Aquarius axis.

Darkness and Light

As the domicile of the Sun and the fixed Fire sign at the heart of summer, Leo is thoroughly life-giving, lordly, and unitive. The Sun itself is literally the center of our Solar system, never undergoes retrogradation, and remains constant in its emanation of light, unlike the Moon who waxes and wanes. When above the horizon, the Sun eclipses all other celestial objects, drawing attention to itself alone. This sense of radiance, constancy, and centrality is expressed in authority figures, monarchies, the mainstream, and central power structures. Standing in contradiction, Aquarius is the realm of outcasts, the obscure, the diffuse, and the lowborn. Aquarius is the land beyond the city gates, the wasteland and wilderness, the fringes and frontiers. To Saturn Lilly attributes “deserts, woods, obscure valleys, caves, dens, holes, mountains,” and these desolate landscapes frequently adorn black metal album covers. As astrologer Patrick Watson states, “...airy Aquarius would represent wide open, harsh and unforgiving environments which put pressure on the mind and soul. Being far from central powers and civilization means figuring out how to survive with one’s own resources, doing things the hard way, discovering self-reliance” (2020).

This opposition baked into the Sun/Leo-Saturn/Aquarius relationship is the eternal war between light and dark, day and night, warmth and cold. It is expressed in the Game of Thrones universe in the Night King, who leads his army of White Walkers from beyond the Wall (Capricorn) to crush the Seven Kingdoms and its rulers. In the same universe, it also appears in the dualistic religion of the Lord of Light, who is opposed by the Great Other. We also see this light-dark dualism manifest in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien, whose works would prove incredibly influential upon many black metal artists like Summoning, Carach Angren, and Gorgoroth (to name a mere fraction). In the Silmarillion, the first Dark Lord Morgoth destroys the Two Trees of Valinor which literally illuminate the world and give birth to the Sun and the Moon of Middle-Earth. Later, the second Dark Lord Sauron sets himself in opposition to all free peoples of Middle-Earth, launching wars to bring them under his dark dominion. Famously, he creates the “One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.” And as far as evil jewelry goes, can you get any more Saturnian than a ring?

There is another Dark Lord who is emblematic of this light-dark dualism and he provides the archetypal fountain from which all black metal flows.

Satan

As hilarious and infamous as this clip is, the documentary from which its drawn is deeply interesting and thoroughly Aquarian.

Once again, we turn to Patrick Watson who states, “If the Sun is a God-like figure on its throne in Leo, then Saturn in Aquarius is a Satan-like figure à la Paradise Lost, a fallen angel exiled from heaven” (2020). Satan has his origins in the Old Testament, where the name appears as a title for a prosecutor in the celestial court of YHWH. Etymologically, the name comes from “Hebrew satan ‘adversary, one who plots against another,’ from satan ‘to show enmity to, oppose, plot against,’ from root s-t-n ‘one who opposes, obstructs, or acts as an adversary.’” (Etymonline.com)

Developing later in Christian mythology, Satan became associated with many figures, including Lucifer, the greatest of God’s creations. When asked to bow before God’s beloved creation mankind, Lucifer rebelled against God’s divine order and sought to create his own kingdom. As Satan says in Sjon’s novel From the Mouth of the Whale, “As all the world knows, I did not bow my knee to this new pet of my Father’s, and for that I was cast out of Heaven along with all who wished to follow me” (2019). It was this act of divine rebellion that would inspire Tolkien in his creation of the character of Melkor, later known as Morgoth, the greatest of the Valar who opposed the works of Illuvatar, the supreme deity of Tolkien’s universe.

Lucifer’s Fall from Heaven as depicted by Paul Gustav Dore for Paradise Lost

The original Edgelord in action

Notably, in Dante Alighieri’s Inferno, Satan occupies the Ninth Circle of Hell, imprisoned in a vast block of ice. With the beating of his bat-like wings, Satan circulates freezing winds, perpetually blasting this Circle of Hell with a glacial chill reminiscent of cold Aquarius. In his Book of Reasons, the rabbi Ibn Ezra states, “It is said that Aquarius is the sign of the devil because it is the domicile of Saturn that indicates depression at the sight of the devil. This is said of Aquarius but not of Capricorn, for the power of Saturn is shown in it” (Ibn Ezra, 1991). The last sentence is obscure, but may make reference to the fact that Saturn is slightly stronger in Aquarius due to his affinity for the diurnal sect.

It is Satan then, as the divine rebel opposed to God’s holy order, who gave lifeblood and inspiration to black metal. Blatantly evil, unremittingly antisocial, and intentionally obscure, black metal defined itself in opposition to everything mainstream, whether it be Christianity, commercialism, or even death metal, which was the ascendant form of metal in the late 80’s and early 90’s. With most artists adhering to atheistic Satanism, the figure of Satan himself is lauded as an archetype of unfettered freedom, carnal reverie, and authenticity of expression. Individualism is especially paramount to black metal artists. One aspires to be the black goat, rather than a blind sheep of the herd. Interestingly, the Sun and its sign of Leo are often touted as indicative of individualism as well. However, the Solar/Leonine figure stands out from the crowd as a leader or celebrity whereas the Aquarian figure carves out his own individualism in secrecy and obscurity. One immediately thinks of the prevalence of one-man bands like Xasthur in black metal, a suitably Saturnian phenomenon in its solitude.

Aquarius & Black Metal: Outsider Art

When considering Aquarius’ remote and rebel nature, one also thinks of the underground, inaccessible, and even anonymous nature of black metal. Lyrics are often cryptic to the point of obscurantism. Masks, corpse-paint, and stage names are employed to draw attention to the message of the music, rather than the identity of the artists. Some bands, including major names like Darkthrone, have never even played a live show. Due to the meager resources of seminal artists, early recordings are marked by their lo-fi production, distribution through demo cassettes, and DIY album artwork xeroxed in black and white. To this day, lo-fi production is often still favored due to its raw, cold, and gritty sound. For obvious reasons, the Saturnian use of black and white also remains integral to the black metal aesthetic in all its monochrome gothic glory.

Although many black metal artists believe Satanism to be essential to the music’s contrarian nature, there is also a panoply of black metal bands employing pagan symbols, motifs, and themes to mark their opposition to both Christianity and modernity. Typically, we think of ‘pagan’ as referring to non-Abrahamic spiritualities. However, before the 4th century AD, ‘pagan’ meant provincial, rustic, and peasant, perhaps due to the persistence of nature-based cults in the backwater of the Roman empire (Etymonline.com). Again, we think of Saturn and his governance over the lowborn, the serf, and the farmer. Christ may be god of the church and king, but genius loci rule over the rivers, mountains, and forests. Living on the fringes, far from the center, one must maintain relations with the spirits of the neighboring storms, streams, and stones.

Random misty forest? Or generic black metal album cover?

This romantic nostalgia for an idealized pagan past is a deep vein running throughout black metal, at times sadly veering into nationalist and even racist domains. Ironically, black metal is the only musical genre with both fascist and antifascist subgenres. This should be unsurprising to astrologers though, as Aquarius is a fixed Air sign, often seen as rigid, stubborn adherence to an ideology. Utopian in orientation, these political beliefs romanticize an inaccessible, fictitious past or look to a future that will never arrive. The unfortunate result is National Socialist black metal (NSBM), an embarrassment to the genre and a phenomenon that many prominent artists have vocally criticized.

Interestingly, some of the most seminal releases for black metal were all recorded and/or released during the last time Saturn was in Aquarius. The dates for that transit are Feb 6, 1991 to May 21, 1993. There was a brief 40 day dip into Pisces before Saturn finished the rest of the transit from June 30, 1993 to Jan 28, 1994. Taking it year by year, we can see that in 1991, classics such as Ritual by Master’s Hammer, Immortal’s self-titled EP, and Beherit’s Oath of Black Blood were released. The following year saw the release of Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism by Immortal, A Blaze in the Northern Sky by Darkthone, and Burzum’s self-titled album, to name a few. More classics followed in 1993, like Rotting Christ’s Thy Mighty Contract and Dissection’s The Somberlain. While Mayhem’s first studio album De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas was not released until May of 1994, the recording of the album took place in ‘92 and ‘93 and multiple demos were released years prior (Questy). Further important works for the genre would be released throughout the 90’s, but these three brief years from 1991-1993 represent the peak of black metal in its raw potency. Moreover, the arrests and convictions of Vark Vikernes from Burzum plus Samoth and Faust from Emperor in 1994 deflated much of the Norweigian scene's momentum.

Conclusion

Thirty years later, many of those bands and albums are experiencing their Saturn return. During this past Saturn cycle, black metal has evolved in myriad ways and become interwoven with many other genres, spawning atmospheric, symphonic, bestial, and shoegaze subgenres to name a few. In particular, depressive suicidal black metal (DSBM) seems to have retained black metal’s bitter, Saturnian spirit. Some of the most galvanizing artists of the past decade are those coming from marginalized communities. Although women have been involved in black metal since its inception, there's been a rise in the visibility of female artists like Asagraum, Marthe, and Hulder. Native American artists such as Blackbraid, Pan-Amerikan Native Front, and Nechochwen have adapted black metal’s mysticism to indigenous beliefs and history. Swiss-American artist Zeal & Ardor has crafted a unique sound melding Satanism and Black spirituals. There is also the Crepusculo Negro scene out of southern California whose bands blend black metal with Mayan beliefs and legends. As fresh blood pours in from the fringes, black metal retains its contrarian ideals and devotion to darkness, reminding us all of humanity's potential for evil and quest for freedom. Hail Saturn!

Below you can find a carefully crafted Spotify playlist containing many of my favorite black metal tracks and artists. For tradition’s sake, I included a couple classics from Mayhem, Immortal, and Darkthrone. But the playlist also features many of my favorites bands across a broad spectrum of sounds. We have bands from the Cascadian scene like Wolves of the Throne Room, the cathartic black metal of Gaerea and atmospheric black metal from artists like Svrm and Ellende.

Bibliography

Farnell, Kim. “When & Why Did Uranus Become Associated with Aquarius?” Skyscript, Jan. 2005, https://skyscript.co.uk/ur_aq.html#:~:text=The%20first%20categorical%20statement%20that,Uranus%20ruled%20Aquarius%20in%201828.

Ibn Ezra, Abraham. The Book of Reasons, edited by Robert Hand, translated by Meira B. Epstein, Project Hindsight, 1991, p. 7.

Lilly, William, and William Marshall. “Of the Planet Saturn and His Signification.” Christian Astrology, 2nd ed., Printed by John Macock, London, 1659.

McCann, David. “Saturn in Myth & Occult Philosophy.” Skyscript, The Traditional Astrologer Magazine, 1996, https://www.skyscript.co.uk/saturnmyth.html.

Olson, Benjamin Hedge. “I AM THE BLACK WIZARDS: MULTIPLICITY, MYSTICISM AND IDENTITY IN BLACK METAL MUSIC AND CULTURE .” Graduate College of Bowling Green State University, 2008.

“Pagan (n.).” Etymonline.com, Online Etymology Dictionary, https://www.etymonline.com/word/pagan.

Questy. The History Of Black Metal (1981-2021). YouTube.com, YouTube, 28 Dec. 2021, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqsi6H_0H54. Accessed 12 Feb. 2023.

“Satan (n.).” Etymonline.com, Online Etymology Dictionary, https://www.etymonline.com/word/satan.

Sjón , and Victoria Cribb. “Prelude.” From the Mouth of the Whale, Spectre, London, 2019, p. 7.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, "The Shadow of the Past", 1954,  p. 50

Valens, Vettius, et al. “Classical Significations of Saturn: Valens, Firmicus, Abu Mashar.” Skyscript, http://www.skyscript.co.uk/classical_saturn.html.

Watson, Patrick. “Saturn in Aquarius: Villains, Anti-Heroes and Nerds.” Patrick Watson Astrology, 16 Dec. 2020, https://patrickwatsonastrology.com/saturn-in-aquarius-villains-anti-heroes-and-nerds/.

Sitting with Saturn and Cycles

With Saturn nearing the end of its time in Aquarius, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own Saturn return.

Life always unfolds in cycles - the waxing and waning of the moon, the endless turning of the seasons, the path of water from rain to river to sea to cloud and down again. We count the years on calendars, but trees count them in rings, ticking away the days of budding to blooming to fruiting to falling apart and letting go.

Saturn counts the years to a slower metronome, with beats lumbering and long and vast intervals of silence between. I often think in terms of minutes and hours, days and weeks, but Saturn thinks in terms of eons, ringing in eternity to the tune of a funeral dirge. Under this unfathomable rhythm, Saturn traces great rings around human lives like the beautiful rings it wraps around itself.

It takes Saturn 10,756 Earth days to complete one revolution around the Sun, returning to the same spot it occupied roughly 29½ years prior. Each time Saturn returns to its natal position in the chart is the beginning and end of a Saturn cycle. In this way, Saturn weaves 2 to 3 great bounds around the average human life. And the first Saturn return largely forms the outer boundary between adolescence and adulthood. With a sharpened scythe, Saturn reaps the karmic harvest we sowed with our actions during the previous cycle.

As I’ve sat with Saturn and the closing of this chapter, I feel hemmed in by the here and now, keenly aware of my past errors and failings while simultaneously grateful for the good things coming to fruition. I'm grown up and growing older. Hopefully wiser too. I feel very humble and human-sized, living in greater intimacy with my impermanence. I am happy to be outlived by mountains and trees and seas, to be eclipsed by greater forces beyond my ken. Content to be a grain of sand in Saturn's hourglass, a blip in infinity.

Do You Want to Go to the Seaside?

Just 50 miles beyond Santiago de Compostela, the destination for pilgrims on “El Camino de Santiago,'' there lies a small craggy spit of land jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean. It is called Cape Finisterre and can be found at the furthest Western edge of Spain in the enchanted province of Galicia. The Cape is so-named because the ancient Romans literally believed it to be the “end of the earth.” Here stone, sky, and sea meet in the breaking of waves upon rugged sea stacks and the aerosolized spray of seafoam.

This past Friday, while Venus was applying to a conjunction with Saturn in Aquarius, we took a day trip west to see the coast. Although the drive took us through thick mists in the mountains, the clouds were scarce once we reached the shoreline, evaporated by the winter Sun.  We came to our own ends of the Earth, where Turtle Island meets the Pacific Ocean. Here we strolled along the shoreline, drinking in the lambent rays of the Sun. Rising dramatically from surf and sand, a couple sea stacks stood resolute. The everpresent roar of the ocean engulfed my awareness, a low oceanic drone drawing my thoughts to Saturn and Venus in the skies above.

Cannon Beach, Oregon

Amongst the many significations attributed by astrologers to Saturn is that of bodies of water like rivers and seas, travel by water, and water-based trades. Wouldn’t a planet with their domicile or exaltation in a Water sign make a more suitable ruler of the sea, such as the Moon, Venus, or Jupiter? Although other planets retain their own connections to water, it becomes quite clear when standing on a rocky seaside outcropping why Saturn would govern such a place. The sea is such a clear and definitive boundary marker, a hard limit, a point where one can literally go no further. Bounded by his rings, Saturn wards the world with locks and limits, degrees and divisions. He curtails, constrains, and controls. And for much of human history, seas, rivers, and oceans served as clear boundary markers between tribes, cities, and nations. Without a boat or bridge, water is simply impassible.

As the furthest visible planet, there is also something inherently remote and removed about Saturn. According to Lilly, he is the planet of “obscure valleys, caves, dens, mountains” and other remote or abandoned places. Often in these hinterlands, we find hermits, true children of Saturn. Whether they be Christian monastics, Buddhist monks on retreat, or Vedic ascetics, spiritual people are often found dwelling in solitary places. They are self-imposed outcasts, set apart from mainstream society by their devotion to their spiritual tradition. Fittingly, wild Cape Finisterre is dotted with sainted stones and solar altars. While I saw no such sites of pilgrimage along the Oregon Coast, the air hummed with a spiritual potency.

A part of me wonders if that potency lies in the sea’s aura of mystery, its sheer vastness and unimaginable depth. What really lies beneath the waves? Sunken ships and dead sailors? Beyond Saturn lies objects invisible to the human eye and the black void of space. And beyond the twilight zone of the ocean lurk monsters that live without sunlight, grotesque beings of the black abyss. What a gargantuan, all-encompassing thing is the sea. Its immensity summons to mind the concision and humility of the Irish fisherman’s prayer:

“Dear Lord, be good to me.
The sea is so wide.
And my boat is so small.”

— Irish Fisherman's Prayer

And yet, Saturn was conjunct Venus too, no? There is a raw, feral beauty to these desolate places, a gorgeous beauty that tears out the heart, a jaw-dropping splendor that crashes down with a skull-cracking gravitas, splintering the self into incalculable, forgettable pieces. We are inescapably drawn to these bare and windswept places where our self-importance is eclipsed by the endurance of much older, wilder things. Here at the edges we butt up against beauty in its most extreme and austere form. The Romantics named this immense confrontation with the natural world “the sublime.” The sheer magnitude of the land and seascape conjures a sense of awe, appropriate smallness, and a touch of horror. As the ineffable experience of nature comes crashing down, one loses their words and is left only with wonder.

A Light in the Dark

Recently, I spent a couple hours at home in the dark. Aside from a few shafts of light sneaking in through slanting shades and stray lights on appliances, there was no illumination. No lamps, no candles. As the Sun slid behind the western horizon, my home became filled with the voluminous dark. It crept over slowly, my home becoming cavernous.

As we are now at the tail end of Autumn, the sun had set by 5 PM. These are the longest nights of the year. Outside the snow falls in many places, accompanied by a deep chill. Why then should the sign of this season, Sagittarius, be a Fire sign? The outside world lacks Fire’s characteristic brightness and warmth that we can see and feel during the Sun’s time in Aries and Leo. And why should the ruler of Sagittarius be Jupiter, a planet associated with optimism, joy, and generosity, when the natural world appears so melancholic?

As I sat at home on that dark day, I thought of my ancestors, those who lived before the advent of electric light and furnaces lit by gas. In their analog world, the seasonal interplay between light and dark, between heat and cold, would have held much greater stress and significance. Blinded by our digital devices, we struggle to conceive of such an existence, but without electric light, the onset of darkness would be much more significant.

Western astrology is rooted in the seasonal interplay of Light and Dark. Rather than tying the signs of the zodiac to the constellations that bear their names, the zodiac signs we use today are actually 12 equal divisions of an ideal circle of 360 total degrees. This fixed and mathematically ideal circle is synchronized with the equinoxes and solstices and is called the tropical zodiac. It begins each year with the Spring Equinox on March 21st, starting at 0 degrees of Aries. On this day, the Light and Dark are equal, but the Light is steadily increasing. Days become longer and the weather becomes warmer in the Northern Hemisphere. This gradual increase in light hits its peak with the Summer Solstice on June 21st, the longest day of the year. From the Summer Solstice to the Fall equinox, the days grow gradually shorter, but the Light still predominates. This entire span of time, from Spring Equinox to Fall Equinox, or from Aries to Virgo, is the Light half of the year.

The Dark half of the year begins with the Autumnal Equinox, another day in which Light and Dark are served in equal measure. However, with the start of Libra season, we pitch into Fall, and experience an increase in Darkness. Not only is it dark outside, but the darkness is growing stronger. After the Winter solstice on December 21st, the Light will steadily increase, but Darkness still holds sway. We can consider this entire time, from Fall Equinox to Spring Equinox, or from Libra to Pisces, to be the Dark half of the year. As the final, feral sign of Autumn, Sagittarius is therefore the sign falling during the days of deepest Darkness, when the chaotic energy of the Dark reaches its peak.

Interestingly, this time of year is also marked by many holidays, nearly all festivals of light. Take Christianity for example. Christ’s birth is celebrated this season, for it was when the world was in its darkest hour that their Savior came. Similarly, Buddhists celebrate the Buddha’s Enlightenment during this season, for his message of wisdom and compassion is meant for a world in the deep darkness of suffering. With the lighting of the menorah, Hanukkah commemorates the miraculous burning of the ner tamid in the Temple. One also thinks of the burning of the kinara candles during Kwanzaa, the candle crown worn by girls on St. Lucia’s Day, the candles lit for Diwali, or the bright fireworks of Chinese New Year. Granted, not all these festivals fall during Sagittarius season, but they do fall in the darkest parts of the year. When the Light is in short supply, we must make it ourselves.

Jupiter’s rulership of Sagittarius affirms this strong spiritual character of this season. Priesthoods and religious rites are a key Jupiterian signification going back millennia. The Greater Benefic coheres, unites, and brings together, a key purpose of holidays. He gives gifts, infusing this season with generosity and gratitude. He increases, expands, and maximizes, providing bountiful feasts of fine foods. He stabilizes, ruling Sagittarius and Pisces, the seasons at whose end Light is transformed and gains in strength.

Think back to our ancestors again now, collecting wood for the coming cold of winter, stockpiling the winter harvest, and preparing for the long rest of winter. The Fire of Sagittarius season is therefore the hearth fire, the burning of the Yule log which lives on today in glowing Christmas trees. The Fire of Sagittarius is the faith that the Light will return. It is the warm hearth that centers a household, the bonfire that brings together a village, and the sacred flame that unites a religious community. It is the miraculous burning of the ner tamid in the Tabernacle, the luminous realization that came to Siddhartha Gautama beneath the Bodhi tree, and the Christ-child born in a dingy stable. As the Gospel of John says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Sagittarius carries the flame while outside howls the wolves and the winter winds. It is the Light in the Dark.

On Cunning and Cutting: Mars as Sword and Swordsmith

With Mars currently running retrograde through the Mercurial sign of Gemini, lately I’ve been thinking about Mars as an underappreciated planet of magic and sorcerous power. Throughout astrological history, swords and knives have always been his domain. Most glyphs depicting Mars are suggestive of weaponry - sleek, sharp, and direct. Therefore, the knife, as that which cleaves, slices, and separates, is symbolic of Mars' power. It's an essential part of every magician's arsenal as well. 

Although called by many names, ritual knives are an indispensable tool in many Western magical occult traditions. Everyone from kitchen witches to Chaotes wield ritual knives. Contemporary consensus understands the ritual knife as one of the four magical weapons. Depicted in the Tarot, each weapon is connected to one of the four elements, with the sword representing Air, the element of ideas, analysis, communication, and the rational intellect. Like a sword, a mind ought to be sharp, able to cleave fact from fiction and eviscerate ignorance. In a ritual context, one may use a knife to symbolically cut a cord, demarcate sacred space, or threaten spirits.

In the context of astrological interpretation, the planet Mars may represent swords, those wielding them, or those slain by them. However, Mars is also the swordsmith. In Greek mythos, the god Ares (Mars) was the illicit lover of Aphrodite (Venus) but her husband was Hephaestus the Smith, whom some authors considered to be the brother of Ares (1). Crippled from a young age, Hephaestus never marched off to war with the Olympians, Instead, he spent his days in a volcanic forge. With soot-stained arms and the aid of his cyclops companions, he wrought chariots, magical automatons, and the legendary weapons of the Olympian gods. His greatest works include Achilles’ armor and Hermes’ (Mercury) winged shoes. The Iliad states Hephaestus could produce motion, an ironic trait considering his crippling, yet also reminiscent of the planet Mars’ associations with ignition, friction, and beginnings. (2)

Vulcan in his Forge, Pompeo Batoni

As a smith, Hephaestus was naturally a deity of fire. A forge’s centerpiece and well of magical potential lies in the generative flame, into which goes raw metal, yet out of which is wrought wonders and weapons. Metallurgy is essentially an act of transmutation. To the ancient mind, such a creative act would have carried miraculous significance, as raw ores became alloys and alloys became weapons, jewelry, and tools. It’s easy to see how a blacksmith’s creative work with metals became analogous to a magician’s creative work with spirits.

With its smoke, soot, intense heat, and harsh sounds, the blacksmith’s forge was naturally seen as reminiscent of a volcano whose rumblings were taken to be the pounding of Hephaestus upon the anvil. Several volcanoes and mountains throughout the Classical landscape were considered to be the site of his forge like Mt. Etna in Sicily or Mt. Mosychlus in Lemnos. Etymologically, the word “volcano'' actually descends from his Roman counterpart Vulcan. As Jake Stratton-Kent goes to great pains to point out in his masterful work Geosophia, these chthonic sites of cultic worship point to Hephaestus’ intimate association with magic and Goetic fire cults (3). The lame smith also played a prominent role in the pre-Greek mystery cult of the Cabiri of which we know sadly little.

Hephaestus is only one of many smiths in world mythology dripping with magical potential. In Genesis 4, Tubal-Cain is identified as the "forger of all instruments of bronze and iron" and remains a deeply inspirational figure to practitioners of Traditional WitchCraft in the tradition of Robert Cochrane. Appearing throughout Germanic and Scandinavian mythology, Wayland the Smith is an enigmatic figure whose stories usually involve metallurgy, cunning, and trickery. Once England's most popular native saint, St. Dunstan is the patron saint of all smiths. Most of his hagiographical accounts involve stories of St. Dunstan outwitting the Devil. In the most popular tale, the saint catches the Devil by the nose with the red-hot tongs of a forge. Of all mythical smiths, my favorite by far is Ilmarinen, a key figure in Finnish mythology. He is best known for creating the dome of the sky itself and the Sampo, a magic device that produces endless gold and food. Curiously, his creation of the Sampo appears more magical than technical, involving the destruction of evil spirits and the summoning of the four winds. 

St. Dunstan Catching the Devil, Medieval Manuscript

Today the echoes of these fabled smiths can be seen in the works of industry. In factories worldwide welders, smiths, and workers upon assembly lines labor in hot and cacophonous conditions evocative of volcanoes. Alongside them, machines rattle, pop, and hiss. Vettius Valens affirms their identity as children of Mars in his Anthology, attributing to the red planet “those who work with fire or iron and those who work with their hands.” (5) From their forges and furnaces come gadgets, appliances, and most importantly cars. As a self-propelled chariot driven by small explosions safely contained within an engine, the automobile is a thoroughly Hephaestian creation, one often attributed to the planet Mars by contemporary astrologers. 

Most of us would prefer to never undergo typical Martial experiences like war, violence, abuse, or robbery. However, Mars cannot and should not be banished from the world. He remains a vital component of life and many of his domains are essential to making a life. Knives are needed in kitchens, on dinner tables, and upon altars. On cold winter nights, fires warm hearths and hands. Saws, nails, chisels, and files are essential for building homes. And cars carry us across vast distances in a fraction of the time it would take our ancestors to make the same trip. Heavy metal, being essentially Malefic music, also owes its existence to Brother Mars, offering sonic catharsis for intense emotions like anxiety, anger, and rage. Like the generative flame of a blacksmith’s forge, Mars is both perilous and potent, able to build and burn, craft and cut, help and hammer. Capable of creation and destruction in equal measure, Mars is a magician.

References:

1. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Hephaestus

2. Iliad, XVIII 372ff

3. Jake Stratton-Kent. Geosophia: The Argo of Magic I. Scarlet Imprint. 2010. Pgs. 193-195.

4. Genesis 4:22 (New International Version)

5. Vettius Valens translated by Chris Brennan. Hellenistic Astrology: The Study of Fate and Fortune. Amor Fati Publications. 2017. Pgs 175-176.

Who are the Planets?

Previously, we laid a historical foundation and defined astrology as the study of the correlation between celestial and earthly events. We learned that horoscopic astrology as practiced in the West today has its roots in the Hellenistic era (323-33 BC) when the first natal charts were calculated. The founders of the Hellenistic tradition were drawing upon earlier advancements in mathematics, astronomy, and celestial observation carried out in Egypt and Mesopotamia over several millennia. Although Egypt and Babylon both held complex calendrical and divinatory systems involving the planets, their practice was primarily carried out for kings and the state. The Hellenistic era is notable for focusing upon the fate and fortune of individuals and introducing the natal chart, whose elements of the planets, signs, aspects, and houses are still in use today. 

Of these four components, the planets are the most vital. Astrology without the planets would be like a story without characters. Their predictable movements along the ecliptic forms an endless dance which astrologers constantly interpret and analyze. To best grasp their character and meanings, one really ought to stargaze. Seeing the twinkling of Venus, the deep crimson of Mars, or Saturn’s ruddy brown color provides an embodied experience in which to ground the planets’ significations. In fact, much of the conceptual framework upholding Hellenistic doctrines come from the everyday experience of looking at the night sky, beholding these seemingly “wandering stars” with the naked eye. 

With this sense of wonder in mind, the question still lingers: what are the planets? Or better put, who are the planets? The contemporary mind may seek to answer this question with recourse to science. Although modern astronomy provides useful descriptions of the planet’s material composition and their orbits, it cannot furnish us with myths or meanings. Science assumes the Cosmos is mute and inanimate, lacking purpose and awareness. Not so to the ancient mind or contemporary animist. The movements of the planets display an inherent purposiveness that suggests to many cultures that they are divine beings, cosmic forces, or omens expressing a divine language. When taking a broad view of diverse beliefs about the planets, one sees that they are best understood as archetypes and polyvalent symbols.

Writing in 1919, the renowned Swiss psychologist Carl Jung first coined the term “archetype” to refer to primordial images of the unconscious. In his studies, he came to the conclusion that the unconscious is something collectively shared and that deep within it are psychological forces which manifest in mythology as deities and demons. These deep forces also emerge as motifs and themes throughout human lives and history. Employing horoscopes in his psychiatric sessions, Jung was in fact fascinated by astrology, finding in it the "sum of all the psychological knowledge of antiquity." Both the Greeks and the Babylonians before them intentionally named the planets after gods of their pantheons whom they believed best represented the sum total of that planet’s nature. Therefore, we find in ancient astrology an understanding that the planets are visible manifestations of cosmic forces. The names and stories surrounding these forces may change from culture to culture, but the archetype remains. For example, whether called Inanna or Aphrodite, the planet Venus often signifies beauty, love, and sensuality.

The next aspect to understand about the archetypes is their polyvalence, meaning "having many forms, functions, or facets." In astrology, this polyvalence manifests in the ability for planets to symbolically represent many interconnected things, depending upon the context. Take the planet Mars for example. In a natal consultation, Mars may represent the native's military career or their boisterous, brusque personality. Mundane astrology studies world events and the history of nations. Therefore, in a mundane chart, Mars may stand for a conflict or battle or war. Horary astrology answers specific questions about personal situations. So in a horary consultation Mars may be something literal like a knife, a car, or an accident. Underneath this range of distinct manifestations is the underlying archetype of Mars.

What follows are descriptions and keywords which I feel cut to the core of each planet’s archetypal meaning. My primary influences for these significations are William Lilly’s Christian Astrology, Chris Brennan’s translation of Vettius Valens’ Anthology, the archetypal astrologer Richard Tarnas’ book Cosmos and Psyche, and the Hygromanteia of Solomon, a Byzantine-era grimoire. I only included the seven classical planets, however astrologers also incorporate the outer planets like Uranus and Neptune, exotic celestial bodies like Chiron, or calculated points like Nodes of the Moon. In the future, I may address these newer additions to the astrological lexicon, but I feel that the seven original planets provide us with a wealth of meaning.

Planetary Keywords

Sun: Vital energy, animating force, ascension, ambitions, achievements, ideals, individuality, creativity, luminosity, the Will, self-awareness and self-expression. That which stands out, shines, and initiates.

Moon: The body, the soul, the collective, the world. Inclusion, intuition, instinct, care, comfort, security, and safety. That which nurtures, gestates, and births. 

Mercury: The mind, thought, reason, communication, language, perception, translation, transmission, and transportation. That which studies, grasps, and articulates. 

Venus: Desire, love, friendship, romance, beauty, peace, harmony, value, attraction, romance, sensual pleasure, art, and aesthetics. That which is admirable and enjoyable to experience. 

Mars: Raw force, division, conflict, vigor, violence, war, competition, courage, struggle, strife, assertion, and ignition. That which is adverse and painful. 

Jupiter: Joy, nobility, fortune, wisdom, law, religion, philosophy, growth, progression, plenty, piety, advancement, and abundance. That which encompasses and includes. 

Saturn: Gravity, limitation, constriction, containment, structure, sorrow, suffering, endurance, elders, tradition, discipline, depression, and death. That which opposes and oppresses.

What is Astrology?

Etymologically, the word astrology comes to us from the Greeks and has two parts: astro and logos. Logos means “a branch of study” and astro means “stars,” so astrology literally means the study of the stars, much as biology is the study of life. Studying the stars may sound like a misnomer however, since most astrologers focus on planets such as Mars, Mercury, and Uranus, not stars like Sirius or Betelgeuse. Why not call it planetology?

To the ancient mind beholding the glimmering night sky, there was little apparent difference between the stars and planets. In fact, the planets were known as asteres planetai or “wandering stars,” because they roamed across the heavens, rather than remaining fixed in place upon the firmament. Crossing constellations, moving backward and forward upon the ecliptic, the wandering stars displayed an inherent agency that marveled the ancients.

Before the advent of television, electric light, and the printing press, both the fixed and wandering stars were an integral part of myth and meaning for all peoples.

Although all human societies globally are bound, in some way, to the observation of the night sky, some ancient cultures specifically focused upon the study of the wandering stars, obsessively measuring their movements and comparing them against earthly events. Astrology as we know it in the West emerged from this study.

During the 6th millennium BCE, astral priests in Mesopotamia read omens in the sky for mundane purposes such as the rulership of kings, health of crops, spread of disease, and outcome of warfare. Their observations were collected and collated over the centuries. The first major astrological almanac, the Enuma Anu Enlil, emerged some time in the 2nd millennium BCE. Composed on a vast series of cuneiform tablets, the EAE contains instructions for interpreting celestial phenomena and is presented as a series “if x/then y” statements. For example, one tablet reads, "If in Nisannu the sunrise (looks) sprinkled with blood and the light is cool: rebellion will not stop in the country, there will be devouring by Adad." While their if/then statements are a far cry from any horoscope, the Mesopotamian civilization of Babylon is credited with dividing the apparent path of the sun, known as the “ecliptic,”' into 360 degrees spread evenly across 12 signs, essentially creating the zodiac we know today. Through these key contributions, the Babylonians laid the foundation of Western astrology as the study of the correlation between celestial and earthly events.

At this time, astrology remained an art for elites and kings, practiced by a scholarly class. About 900 miles to the west, the ancient Egyptians created several calendrical systems, including a solar calendar consisting of 36 parts connected to various stars and constellations. They too had an elite class of priests who enlisted astrology, in addition to other divination systems, to advise the pharaoh, schedule rituals, and forecast the future. Both cultures developed astrology as a high form of divination, one more predictable and empirical than reading animal entrails, yet connected to complex astral theologies.

These foundations laid by the Babylonians and Egyptians experienced rapid growth and development during the Hellenistic era. In fact, the system we call "astrology" in the West today congealed during Hellenistic era of the 3rd and 2nd century BC. Following the conquest of Alexander the Great, Greek became the lingua franca of the Classical world. People from as far afield as Northern India to Mesopotamia to Egypt could converse and compare ideas. Advancements in mathematics and astronomy and the rich diversity of religious, philosophical, and mystery traditions around the Mediterranean were exchanged across vast trade routes. In the port city of Alexandria in Egypt, native temple priests, Indian Buddhists, Greek philosophers, and Jewish mystics exchanged beliefs in the marketplace of ideas. Amidst this multicultural milieu emerged Hellenistic astrology.

Synthesizing the 12 signs of the Mesopotamian zodiac, the 36 Egyptian decans, and Greek metaphysics, Hellenistic astrology emerges onto the historical record seemingly fully formed. It stands in contrast to older systems of celestial study because it presented the horoskopos, or what we call the "natal chart" today, as a brand new invention. Before this point, astrological prognostication was primarily done only for kings and countries, whose fate was of paramount importance. After the conquest of Alexander, the fate of individuals took on equal, if not greater, significance. By roughly 200 BCE, we see the earliest evidence of birth charts calculated according to the ascending degree, just like the charts calculated today on apps and websites. Key features arise at this time including planets, signs, houses, and aspects.

These four features form the basis for any kind of chart interpretation today, no matter what branch of astrology one practices. The planets are the primary voices, giving testimony about the question at hand. Signs qualify the voices of the planets, either strengthening or weakening what they have to say, while aspects describe the relationship of the planets to one another. Finally, charts are divided into 12 houses. In any given chart, the signs and planets can fall in any one of these 12 houses. One classic metaphor is that, if life is a play, the planets are the actors, the signs are their costumes, the aspects are their relationships, and the houses are the backdrop of the drama.

Over the next four weeks, we will examine each of these features in detail, beginning with the planets.

Capricorn - Doom Metal

Of Horns, Hooves, and Heavy Riffs

Birthed from Black Sabbath’s eponymous song in 1969, doom metal is the grandfather of all heavy metal genres. Inspired by bassist Geezer Butler’s eerie experience of waking to see a looming shadow at the end of his bed, Ozzy Osbourne captured the feeling of impending doom with these hauntingly brief lines:

“What is this that stands before me?
Figure in black which points at me
Turn ‘round quick and start to run
Find out I’m the chosen one
Oh, no!”

— Ozzy Osbourne

In turn, guitarist Tony Iommi’s snarling riff gave life to doom metal's signature low, slow, loud sound. All metal subgenres find their niche in some kind of extremity, taking a musical element and ramping up its intensity to the Nth degree. Well, doom metal is extremely slow. The legendary Sleep song Dopesmoker clocks in at over an hour long! Eschewing the shredding antics of thrash or death, doom metal finds its apotheosis in soul-crushingly heavy riffs played on down-tuned guitars at exhaustingly slow tempos accompanied by lyrical themes like despair, depression, damnation, and grief. It revels in fear, terror, and the Lovecraftian cosmic horror of being slain by the sublimely incomprehensible.

Naturally, doom metal is the purview of Saturn, the Greater Malefic, whose malevolence was said to come from being excessively cold and dry. Bounded by rings of rock and ice, Saturn stands for that which restricts, opposes, and oppresses. While his pedagogy is cruel, Saturn can teach valuable lessons like discipline, maturity, and control. He imposes the laws of impermanence, death, and decay. Because he governs lines and limits, Saturn is the patron of the excluded: outcasts, the isolated, and the marginalized. Prior to Neptune’s discovery and subsequent acquisition of mystical significations, Saturn governed ascetics, occultists, hermits, and states of intoxication. When considering the black monastic habits worn by bands like Sunn 0))), dark phantasmagoria of Stoner Doom, and mournful dirges of Funeral Doom, it's easy to see why Saturn is Doom metal’s patron.

Saturn - The Greater Malefic

According to the Hellenistic planetary rulership scheme, Saturn has two domiciles or homes. Doom aligns most with Saturn's cardinal, Earthy, nocturnal domicile of Capricorn. The season of the Goat begins at Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year and longest night. Amidst the cold, accumulating snow, darkness reigns supreme. Harsh conditions drive people inside to huddle around fires. They pray their harvest lasts until the spring thaws, while outside howl the winter winds and wolves. It is these grim conditions that give birth to the melancholy and misery, depression and deprivation encapsulated by Doom. 

So what makes Capricorn the province of Doom metal? Besides the panoply of goats appearing in band names and album artwork, my interpretation stems from the sign’s mode, element, and gender. Capricorn is a cardinal sign, meaning it begins and births. Capricorn season initiates Winter and marks the point in the year when the sun begins its slow, arduous ascent back toward the pole star. Doom metal itself was inceptional; its unholy anthem “Black Sabbath” is the seed from which all heavy metal blossomed. 

Elementally, Capricorn is Earthy, meaning concrete, material, and tangible. As first of the Earth signs, Capricorn speaks to primordial, physical structures. These foundations of the Earth can be seen in rugged mountains where goats climb and play. Qualitatively, Earth feels weighty and dense. There is an austere gravitas to Capricorn. This density is expressed in the painfully heavy riffs so characteristic of Doom. With a lethargic tempo reminiscent of trudging, the subgenre’s mythological imagery often features long arduous journeys. Pilgrims bearing burdensome loads march through harsh landscapes to a slow and steady metronome. Oftentimes, something obsidian and monolithic looms in the distance, inspiring numinous dread.

The Foreboding Terrain of Capricorn

Finally, Capricorn is considered a feminine sign. Although gendered terms were baked into astrology’s beginnings, they have diminishing utility in the 21st century. We might think of masculine and feminine instead in terms of Yin and Yang, active and receptive, or diurnal and nocturnal. Of these binaries, I find diurnal vs. nocturnal the most useful as its metaphorical foundation is light, something whose variegating quality we all experience throughout the solar year. Consider then the enfolding, all-consuming power of a velvet black night in the depths of winter when the natural world appears most unforgiving. Doom metal artists often pen hymns to the Void, the philosophical personification of nothingness. These songs make homage to the idea that the deep well of emptiness within us all is truly the Ground of All Being and is experienced and accessed only through negation. Therefore lack, absence, and loss beget bitter truth.

As a love letter to Saturn and my favorite subgenre, you can find a Spotify playlist below filled with some of my favorite Doom metal tracks. It’s an eclectic mix, including classics from Doom’s forebears such as St. Vitus, Pentagram, and Trouble as well as contemporary favorites like Thou, Pallbearer, and SubRosa. Generally, the mix edges more toward Stoner Doom than Drone, Epic, or Sludge simply because the cannabis-infused, bluesy grooves of the genre resonate most with my own heart.