Morbid Tales – Celtic Frost

Morbid Tales is the debut album by Celtic Frost, released in November 1984.

In the vast underworld of black, death, and thrash metal, there are precious few bands I would genuinely call myself a fan of. Not just an occasional listener, but a true believer. Why so few? Simple. A gnawing sense persists that many bands in the extreme underground—while aggressive and technically capable—lack sustained musical evolution. 

The underground’s greatest weakness has always been its inability to move forward while remaining itself. Bands that manage to carve out a unique sonic identity rise to legend. The rest? Forgotten like bones in the dust of a crypt.

And yet, it’s precisely from these dark, claustrophobic corners of the scene that some of the most important sparks of creativity emerge.

The entire thrash metal movement, for instance, was birthed from metalheads growing disillusioned with the bloated, polished offerings of the mainstream. Underground musicians, stripped of industry expectations, experimented wildly, shaping a raw, uncompromising new language. Enter: Celtic Frost.

Celtic Frost emerged from the bleak, neutral greyscapes of Switzerland, of all places—not quite the hotbed of metal carnage one might expect. But perhaps that sense of isolation birthed something truly singular.

Frontman Thomas Gabriel Warrior and bassist Martin Eric Ain (both veterans of proto-extreme act Hellhammer) weren’t just playing heavier riffs; they were conjuring rituals of doom and existential dread. Where other bands chased speed or shock value, Celtic Frost sculpted sonic monoliths that blended avant-garde tendencies with unrelenting heaviness.

Morbid Tales: The Birth of avant-garde

Their debut EP-cum-album Morbid Tales (1984) is nothing short of foundational—a fever dream of blackened thrash filtered through grimy distortion, funereal atmospheres, and a distinctly European sense of existential horror. For Thai metalheads in the ’80s, this record was something of an occult object itself.

Legal releases were scarce; one had to resort to cassette bootlegs—the sacred black market of true fandom. Fortunately, later CD reissues bundled in tracks from the equally essential Emperor’s Return EP. The original vinyl? Just eight tracks of pure darkness. The CD adds four more, making twelve cuts of raw, arcane energy.

I remember my first listen vividly: this wasn’t just another metal album. It made the then-new discoveries of Metallica and Slayer seem… juvenile. Child’s play. Posers swinging their plastic swords while Celtic Frost invoked Lovecraftian nightmares. This was the abyss.

The term “influential” gets thrown around too lightly these days, but here, it’s earned. Opening with the terrifying incantation “Human (Intro)”, Morbid Tales doesn’t creep up on you—it lunges, teeth bared.

Today, it might not sound like a bloodbath. But rewind to 1984, and this was radical. Other albums of that era sound quaint beside it. Celtic Frost blended the ferocity of black/death metal with synths, a doom-laden atmosphere, and experimental structures. No one else at the time had that sort of vision.

Compare their aesthetic to the brash thrashers of the U.S.—Slayer, Exodus, et al.—and you’ll hear the difference in ethos. Where Americans went for volume and speed, Celtic Frost curated image, mystery, and mood.

Their face paint wasn’t just for show—it was performance art. Their lyrics dabbled in Satanic imagery, sure, but there was an abstract, literary flair to it—less Hell and more Inferno, if you will. The occasional use of female vocals added texture and a strange sensuality, further disrupting genre norms.

Take “Into the Crypts of Rays”—an absolute monster of a track. Warrior’s guttural growls and those unholy riffs offered a blueprint for the entire European school of black/death metal. The rhythm, riffing style, and timing diverged from the American template. 

Celtic Frost wasn’t just heavy; they were weird, and that made them revolutionary.

And while Morbid Tales isn’t yet the full-blown avant-garde descent of later works like To Mega Therion, its experimental hints are unmistakable.

The instrumental “Danse Macabre” is more sonic séance than song. Creepy, unconventional, and bold. In an era where Venom were hammering away at chaos and Bathory were birthing Scandinavian darkness, Celtic Frost took a third, stranger path—one that no one else dared follow.

True, in the grand scheme of ’80s metal, Celtic Frost were never household names. Their fame remained largely cult—an insiders’ secret. But within that cult? They were kings. The underground is filled with the corpses of “almost-weres,” but Celtic Frost? They were architects of an entire mindset—one that prized atmosphere, integrity, and dread over riffs alone.

My Final Thoughts: A Necessary Madness

Celtic Frost didn’t just make metal heavier—they made it art. Their work poses an ongoing question to metal as a genre: Must extremity always follow the path of brutality, or can it also embrace strangeness, intellect, and vulnerability?

Their style was alienating for many, but maybe that was the point. Celtic Frost refused to compromise. They were metal’s answer to Dadaism, to early David Cronenberg, to Francis Bacon’s grotesque canvases. Like all great provocateurs, they left a trail of imitators who misunderstood the assignment.

In today’s age of algorithmic predictability, Morbid Tales stands as a feral relic of a time when metal could still surprise you—horrify you—and that’s a tale worth resurrecting.

Label: Noise

Year: 1984  (Re-Release 1999) 

Produced by”Mad” Horst Mueller (* Thomas Gabriel Warrior & Rick)

Co-Produced by      Thomas Gabriel Warrior & Martin Ain (*Martin Ain)