for Shon Howard

Jeff Swann wasn't some crazy bastard who bashed kids' heads in with his guitar.  You people tried to make him sound that way, but you weren't there; you don't know what really happened.

My name's Keith Thomas, bass player from Necropolis.  You and I need to talk.  I know you'll say I've burned out my brain on some acid trip, but before ... what happened ... I never did drugs.  Jeff wouldn't hear of it.  "We're in this for the music," he always said.  Not to say we didn't party--we had a hell of a time with wine, women and more money than we could spend--but aside from a few joints that Tommy and I snuck after the shows, there weren't any drugs.  Necropolis was clean.  Jeff Swann was clean.

I don't care if you don't believe me.  Like I said, you weren't there.  You don't have a clue about what went down and I don't have to tell you shit.

I'm not here for you, bud.  I'm here for all those kids you say you want to help.  But let me say this up front.  I don't buy into the crap you're pushing off on people.  In my book, you're just a fancy-assed thief.  But I've got nowhere else to turn, so let's get this over with.

I assume you know how Necropolis got its start.  I mean, how many rock stars can you name who came out of Denver?  Jeff Swann started Necropolis right here in the Mile High city.  We jammed in the space we rented at the Underground before it burned down and took time out every Sunday to watch the Broncos play, hoping they wouldn't embarrass us in another Super Bowl blow-out.  Then this guy named Quentin showed up.

Quentin got off on Jeff's songs.  Understand, we never did many covers even in our club days.  Quentin knew Jeff had talent.  Tommy and I were just along for the ride; Jeff could have found anyone to play bass and drums.  It was the combination of Jeff's voice, words and guitar that made Necropolis the success most bands only dream about.

So Quentin signed us up for a Battle of the Bands and we took it hands down.  That won us a trip to L.A. to record a video and open a show for Metallica.

The record companies approached Jeff and we were off.  Our self-titled "Necropolis" was the best selling debut since Boston's first.  The song "Straight to Hell" was a big hit on the AOR stations, but Jeff's favorite was "On Wings of Song."  He loved the emotional ballads.  He said he put more of himself into them.  We didn't complain, the ballads hit the Billboard Top Ten.  But songs like "Goddess of Destruction" were the best in concert.  Crowds ate 'em up.

We were in heaven that first year.  We opened for Aerosmith, Ozzy Osbourne and Stone Temple Pilots, then went to work on our second album.  Jeff wanted to do a concept album like Pink Floyd's "The Wall" or Queensryche's "Operation:  Mindcrime".

He'd been reading all these weird books on the occult.  I've got some of them here.  Let's see, The Black Arts by Cavendish, these Crowley books and this.  This was the main inspiration for our "Hellsight" album.  Don't touch it!  Jesus, I shouldn't even touch it, but it's too late for me.  I already see what's going on.  This diary, or Book of Shadows, was the clincher.

Jeff found it at a used book store on Colfax.  One of those metaphysical shops tucked between the peep shows and tattoo parlors, know the ones I mean?  Thing is, the book isn't written in English.  Let me unbind it, I'll show you.  See these symbols, and back here, see this?  The whole book is written in that code.  Jeff was translating it even back when we were jamming at the Underground.  He'd finally get a phrase completed and he'd be overjoyed.  Different phrases from early in the book inspired songs like "Goddess of Destruction" and "Enemies in the Night".

While we were on the road, Jeff grew obsessed with translating the rest of the book.  He believed it belonged to one of the members of the Golden Dawn or some other secret society of mystics.

Time out, pal.  Don't grin about it.  You're thinking of ways to exploit this saying, "Watch out, the bogeyman's gonna get ya!"  But this isn't about some bogeyman and it's not about some secret society of misfits who only think they have true power.  Hell no.  See, that's what Tommy and I thought.  Jeff, too.  At first.

We thought it'd be cool to do an album about these occult masters secretly taking over the world.  There were all kinds of spells and incantations in this book.  They're gone now.  Jeff burned them so no one else could get hold of them.

But we incorporated some of the spells as ritual chants for background vocals.  Tommy was hesitant.  He thought they might work and we'd be doing something dangerous, but Jeff and I laughed.  We figured that for them to have any power, which we didn't believe in the first place, they'd have to be spoken in the original language with proper pronunciation.  And although we had to speak some words in the original language, since there were no English words for them, the translated parts would certainly defuse them.

The song "Furious Angels" came first.  It was a kick-ass tune and a big hit.  The album went platinum practically overnight and we started headlining sold out shows.  Of course we played most of the "Hellsight" songs in each show and the problems started right away.

Jeff, who had always been obsessive and on the edge, seemed to lose his mind.  He took me aside after our first show.  "Did you see the white dudes?" he asked.

I looked at him like he was nuts.  Most of the audience was white.  He shook his head and walked away.

When we played in Baltimore, Jeff actually stopped playing and pointed at the ceiling.  "Do you see that?" he asked.  He seemed desperate for some sign from me, but I didn't see anything.  The crowd looked up, thinking it was part of the act, so Jeff closed his eyes and slammed into the next song.

The roadies started talking.  They thought he was on drugs.  I knew that wasn't the case, but I had no clue just how bad things really were.

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