Austinist Interviews Suroosh Alvi of Heavy Metal in Baghdad

The band itself—their inability to play live shows is a symptom of having been in Iraq, but more than that it’s a symptom of trying to play a style of music that’s not really accepted in a strict Islamic society, right? How do they finally get to the point where they can play shows? Is it just moving out of that area completely?

Well, in Istanbul, there is a scene—albeit it’s small compared to a place like Austin, Texas. But there is a scene. And what’s interesting is that the first time they ever saw another band play live was after they went to Istanbul in the Fall of last year. They have been together for what is eight or nine years now. They’ve been living in a bubble—just practicing and rehearsing without the opportunity to see another band play live.

They evolved by getting CDs handed down to them that were bought on the black market by their elder siblings, like a Metallica CD or a Slayer CD. Whatever they could get their hands on.

Now they’re finally in this open, free society, and they’re starting to play some shows. Kids are coming up to them. They’re in a musical community of some sorts for the first time. They are, on the one hand, official refugees according to the UNHCR. But at the same time, they’re a fledgling band in a community for the first time after being together for nine years.

To answer your question, they’d be better off in Western Europe or North America to play metal. I’ve said this before: to choose to play metal in Damascus is either the bravest or the stupidest thing that you could possibly choose to do. There is virtually no community to support what you’re doing. You’re choosing a very, very challenging mission for yourself in life. And I respect that.

How did their style evolve? Like you said, they must have heard these CDs that were passed down, but they couldn’t have had full access to the latest music. Did their style evolve in a clunky way?

Absolutely. It was whatever kind of pop culture and Western musical references that they could get their hands on that would have an influence on what they do—even if it was something like Michael Jackson.

The advent of the internet and satellite television changed things a lot for them. In an ideal world, they would play what they call “Thrash Metal” as their genre. But because there was such a small community of people that appreciated their kind of music wherever they were playing, they were forced to play multiple genres of metal. So if there was a kid out there that likes 80s metal, they’ll play one 80s metal song. If there’s a kid that likes rap metal, they’ll do a rap metal song—as unfortunate as that may be.

They ended up playing this mish-mash of many different forms of metal. If they were left to their own devices—if they could just do one thing, it would be an Arab-influenced speed-metal.

And they were persecuted for the music they were trying to play in Baghdad?

Yes. They received death threats for playing their music. There was a letter posted on the door of their practice space before it got bombed saying that they should stop playing or they’d be killed.

Was that because the music was Western-influenced or because of the subject matter of the music?

Before the coalition troops went in, when it was just Saddam Hussein’s regime, they had a number of obstacles to playing their metal. It was frowned upon. But after the coalition troops went in, there was so much resentment toward the Westerners that if you were seen as an Iraqi that appreciated any kind of Western culture—metal, in their case—you’d become an instant target. You were colluding with the West instead of existing in opposition of it.

What’s life like as a journalist in Baghdad?

We were originally supposed to go in 2005. At the time, I spoke to a bunch of journalists who had been reporting from Baghdad before we were supposed to go. At that time, it was a lot mellower—one guy in particular from ABC who was there for a couple weeks was saying, “I was in the markets and blah blah blah, it is totally cool—something could always happen, but it’s fine.”

When we went, those same journalists were saying, “I’ve been there before many times, the Iraqis are my favorite people in the world. I would not go right now.”

While we were there, it was really, really difficult to get any kind of real reporting done. There was no freedom of movement. Iraqis were afraid of us—they didn’t want to be seen with us because they would be targeted for working with Westerners. Eddie and I aren’t traditional war-zone journalists or reporters, anyway. We had this militia of private security of Iraqi guys that were taking us around and basically telling us what we could do or couldn’t do.

And they didn’t understand what we were doing there, either. They were like, “wait, you’re here to find a band?” There were no other journalists there when we got there; they’d all left because the situation was so bad. We didn’t really know what we were getting into when we landed.

How optimistic are you that a free-form, artistic—whether it’s music or another medium—community can exist in Baghdad in the next five to ten years? Do you think that’s a possibility?

We were in Damascus in December of 2006—we found the entire Iraqi artist community living in exile, and they were completely depressed and fucked up and scared. Whether they were sculptors or film-makers or musicians, they had received death threats. I think it’ll take a long time before an artistic community can exist and flourish in Baghdad again. Maybe it’ll take ten years, it’s hard to say.

But I think there’s going to be many more years of instability and violence and death and destruction before it can recreate itself and exist in peace. I am optimistic that it can happen one day, but it’ll be a long fucking time from now.

Heavy Metal in Baghdad debuts tonight at 9:30pm at the Alamo Ritz.