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New Shiny Metal

Diatribe, runners-up at Hornbill 2008, are edgier and heavier than most contemporary Indian metal bands

Apr 20, 2009

The band that made its debut at the 2007 Rattle & Hum concert, an annual event organised by Nagaland’s best known musician Theja Meru, are easily the unsung heroes of Indian metal. Diatribe radiate an energy that implodes within every single member of the 10,000-strong audience at the Kohima Local Ground. And this is just the beginning. Diatribe, if it has the balls to stick around as long as it takes, is a band that will shape the sound of the massively popular genre in the country.

The four-piece band came into being a little over a year ago with the guttural-throated 26-year-old Temsu Akong aka Kalong as its vocalist, the talented Yanger Longkumer, 29, on lead guitar, and the less extroverted but equally forceful musicians Abijah Metha, 28 on bass, Lipok Changkija, 29, on keys, and Temsu Kichu, 28, on drums. Kalong, who was with a Chennai-based progessive rock band called Morisson Avenue met the rest of his band three years ago, who were then a part of another band called Graffiti, also into prog rock. Originally with Meyi on vocals, Graffiti bit the dust, when Meyi completed his theology studies and began work as a pastor in a local church sometime in 2005. Soon former Grafitti members joined Theja Meru’s open music group Wave, which included all the rising stars of metal at some point (this is where other Naga bands such as OFF and Eximious cut their teeth).

The shift from prog rock to melodic metal came easily, says Kalong. Ask the rest of the band and they all point to Kalong. “For me it’s a headrush. I love the energy,” says the college dropout from Madras Christian College, who decided to take up music against all odds ”“ opposition from family, lack of basic infrastructure and little support from the strong Christian community. This is true for the rest of his band members too. Longkumer is the only one who has another axe to grind to make both ends meet and works as a data entry operator. “It’s interesting,” he says, sounding completely unconvincing, “I key in data about roads and bridges.” His aunt bought him his first guitar ”“ a Fender semi-acoustic ”“ when he was about seven, changing the course of his life completely, he says. The guitarist has been working hard at interpreting traditional Angami tunes, one of the 16 Naga tribes and one that he belongs to, on his guitar. “I recorded the tunes at a folk festival and have been playing it over and over again. I get the tune into my head and play it on my guitar. It’s quite tough,” says Longkumer. Most traditional Naga tunes have multi-part harmonies, which when sung sound quite simplistic but are difficult melodies to put down. While we mostly hear Longkumer hack some routine powerful metal riffs, the folk influence is yet to take shape, although Kalong is extremely supportive. “I think Yanger has something. He’s very talented and it’s original stuff that will push our music forward,” he says.

At practice, Longkumer plays a borrowed guitar ”“ a black Ibanez. Most bands in the North East live off each other’s meagre resources. Their struggles are summed up in the Diatribe original ”˜Hardships,’ and tracks like ”˜Go Away’ against the rising insurgency in the region. “I’ve seen a lot of stuff as a kid – bullets flying around and my sister’s schoolmate lose a leg to one. Youngsters get onto the streets and commit crimes in the name of militancy. All this has to stop,” says Kalong.

The angst sees a volcanic release on stage. With fists clenched Kalong rages on against the wrongs. ”˜Again I Bleed’ he growls painting an image of his constantly battered state, as Kichu hammers an angry marching beat.

Diatribe has four originals and hopes to cut an album sometime next year. But the future of band is uncertain, simply because there’s too much pressure from families to take up a ”˜real job’. Just a few months ago, the drummer was to leave everything behind to take up the family business with his uncle in Dimapur. But the plan didn’t materialise much to Kalong’s relief. “It’s like losing some part of the body when you lose a band member,” he says, “It’s too big a risk if music doesn’t work out and pay the bills but I want to make this happen.” There aren’t too many gigs and little money earned. When Diatribe won the best band title in the Nagaland Music Safari earlier in 2008, they invested their cash prize of Rs 15,000 in a pair of speakers and a microphone. A few days ahead of the Hornbill Rock Contest finals, Longkumer bought himself a new FX unit to beef up the riffs.

They’ve just won one and a half lakhs, and Longkumer might be able to finally buy his own guitar and Kichu can replace his eight-year-old Zidjian cymbals that are falling to pieces.

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