The royal treatment

>> Taking a shine to Mercyful Fate's King Diamond

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

While most Satanic rockers are blithering idiots (see Marilyn Manson's biography), Denmark's King Diamond (aka Tim Peterson) proves to be a pleasant exception. His answers to all of my questions are peppered with pauses as he weighs his answers and delivers them in a slow, precise manner. But this singer with a set of pipes that hits registers only dogs can hear insists he is just a regular guy, asking for no rock-star special treatment. As soon as our interview starts, he asks me to drop the formalities and call him by his first name, "King." What a guy!

Recently though, Gene Simmons of Kiss didn't share King's laissez faire attitude and sent a cease-and-desist order on King's trademark makeup, citing that the two designs were too similar. However, upon close inspection, even Ray Charles would notice that King's makeup is closer to a Rorschach pattern than the God of Thunder's legendary bat wings and, by cracky, he's sporting a friggin' moustache. "I thought it was pretty stupid," says King, "but in the end I must admit it did get me a lot of publicity. He, of course, withdrew the charge before it even got to court."

It was, in fact, King Diamond who provided the first real traces of the "corpse paint" craze that is now rampant in the black metal scene. Just take a gander at Cradle of Filth, Emperor and Immortal--or for that matter, a lot of pro wrestlers. But behind any innovation there always lies a hint of imitation, and there does seem to be some clever thievery at play here. "The first time I came up with the concept of using makeup was when I saw Alice Cooper on the Welcome to my Nightmare tour. It was the first time I had ever seen anything that eerie. It was almost like if I were to try to touch him he would disappear."

King's demonic metal hymns made PMRC activist and queen of bad sex Tipper Gore single him out in the press, but more importantly his Satanic soapbox operas got him the nod from the Black Pope, the late Anton LaVey. "He asked me to join him at his house in San Francisco and we had a great time playing old show tunes on his organ and discussing philosophies for hours. He inducted me personally into the Church of Satan. When he took off his Baphomet symbol and squeezed it into my hand, it was an overwhelming feeling that I'll never forget. He even played 'Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen' for me on his organ, which was a great honour."

Even Metallica paid tribute to Mercyful Fate by releasing some cover versions of Fate's classics on the Garage Days Revisited CD. As good as Mercyful Fate were/are, it was King's helium-induced falsetto that landed them in heavy metal's history books. "I kind of found my falsetto by accident. I always wanted to be a guitarist in a band, so I thought I could sneak in as a singer and than just play guitar. I realized quickly that I was singing wrong and after I learned how to breath and control the notes, and at one show some guy told me that I was good with high notes and I decided I would start trying to master it. I think I have."

The reunited Mercyful Fate, with Overkill and Nevermore, at Le Medley on Monday, October 4, 8pm, $20