Sepultura

Discover the Impact of Sepultura’s ‘Schizophrenia’

Neil Johnson 30 October 2024

Sepultura's "Schizophrenia," released on October 30, 1987, marked a crucial evolution in thrash metal. Introducing guitarist Andreas...

The Making of Roots – Sepultura’s Cultural Revolution Roots

The Making of Roots – Sepultura’s Cultural Revolution

Neil Johnson 30 October 2024

Sepultura's 1996 album, Roots, marks a significant evolution in metal, merging groove and nu metal with Brazilian...

Chaos A.D. – Sepultura’s Genre-Defining Album

Neil Johnson 18 September 2024

Introduction In the world of heavy metal, few albums have made as significant an impact as Sepultura’s...

Unveiling Arise: Sepultura’s Thrash Metal Evolution

Unveiling Arise: Sepultura’s Thrash Metal Evolution

Neil Johnson 15 September 2024

Introduction In the early 1990s, amidst the burgeoning thrash and death metal scenes, a Brazilian band emerged...

Beneath the Remains: Sepultura’s 1989 Breakthrough, Revisited in Depth

Beneath the Remains: Sepultura’s 1989 Breakthrough, Revisited in Depth

Neil Johnson 28 August 2024

1) A world on the brink: setting the stage for Beneath the Remains (1989) By 1988–1989, extreme...

Podcast Episodes

Riffology: Iconic Rock Albums Podcast

Welcome to Riffology, where a GenX and a Millennial talk about the albums from their youth. It’s more fun than it sounds…

Sepultura’s Beneath the Remains gets the full Riffology treatment: the leap from Schizophrenia to something lean, hostile and oddly elegant. We dig into why the first half feels near-bulletproof (“Beneath the Remains,” “Inner Self,” “Stronger Than Hate,” “Mass Hypnosis”), how those nocturnal sessions at Nas Nuvens bled into the record’s raw edge, and where Scott Burns helped sharpen the attack. It’s the grim middle ground between thrash and death—menace over flash, breakdowns that earn their keep, and riffs that chug without ever getting comfortable.

We wander through the artwork lore too—Michael Whelan’s “Nightmare in Red,” the Obituary swap, teenage-bedroom posters, and the strange orderliness of tape-trading that forced you to live with whole albums rather than skip buttons. Max and Igor’s engine, Andreas’ knife-point melodies, Paulo holding the line; a band stepping forward, already pointing at Arise while still covered in the dust.

Then the end happens—again the funniest stretch—featuring an unscheduled James Hetfield cameo, a perfectly serious argument about whether the evening meal is “tea” or “dinner,” and a sign-off that devolves into an apology cascade capped with “Sorry, mum.” Dry, accidental, very on-brand.