Married to the mosh: Dubai’s metal scene ain’t much, but it’s heavy

I believe in wailing, pounding; this, that and thunder. In things bigger than my body. Yes metal is heavy, but so is my heart, so is living. The present slips through my fingers. The past never ends—Faulkner says it’s not even past. Dubai may be metallic, but not metal.

Vinod Thangoor, who first started throwing shows in Oman and Bahrain, is widely regarded by locals as Prometheus. He brought them their bands, and even if it’s just for the weekend, gave them purpose. He says the Gulf does not lack metalheads, only concerts for them.

“I’m just a metalhead who got into organising gigs,” said Thangoor, “I started in 2012, and I had enough spare cash to get bands together. Back then, Dubai’s scene didn’t really exist, so I thought to bring the bands I liked and hopefully other people like them too.”

More than ten years later, heavy metal is thriving in a few places like the Sunday Hotel in Bur Dubai and Al Barsha’s Oak Bar. Thangoor says metalheads are those who know if the music is with them, they can overcome any problem.

“To be honest, I’m happy [metal in Dubai] is not as popular,” said Thangoor. “So we can always watch the bands we want to see. Like Metallica is sold out in half an hour, it’s impossible. I like my scene underground, I like it small.”

Local metalhead Arnav Sinha Roy says even though metal bands sing about bleeding out, breaking, dying (always), violence, and being endlessly unlovable, those motifs of apocalypse and pain are just that—performance. The music is an outlet, he explains. You ever hurt so much you end up in a mosh pit? No room for secrets, evil or Satan, only skin. Here, there can be “us,” without “them.” Amid that blur, surrounded by heads and bodies, the world is intimate for once; precious because it passes, the aggression fades. Like techno, one can’t just listen to live metal, you have to feel it. With your body. With everyone else’s. Let it linger. Let it out.

Yes, push comes to shove, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t tender. Non-metal fans are often surprised at the community being down to earth, open-minded and chill—despite presenting as pissy occultists. Like Thangoor says, metal is not an answer for everyone; not all heads were meant to bang this hard. And surely, out of the ten thousand voices screaming bloody murder, there are ten thousand more who won’t. Though I’ve never met a mean metalhead, and they haven’t either. Divas yes, trauma, of course. But never assholes.

“When I was still in high school, the best gig I saw was Guns N’ Roses in 2017,” said Sinha Roy. “Axl sounded like he still had it then. He sang about a jungle in the desert. The highways were so backed up, everyone wanted to be there.”

Paul Hipolito, the vocalist of local band Skullcrusher, who played their most recent show at the Sunday Hotel on September 13, discovered Pantera on an untitled cassette tape in grade school. At first, guitarist Dimebag Darrel terrified him, but later on, became his guitar hero.

“I saved money to buy Slayer’s then-new album Divine Intervention on cassette tape,” said Hipolito. “My dad heard the first track, ‘Killing Fields,’ and he thought I was going to war. I was 12.”

Paul’s first gig was at a girl’s birthday party in high school. The vibe was Alanis Morissette, but his band played Metallica. Paul was a dolphin trainer in the Philippines for five years, where he had a band called Powertools in 2004. Then the Dubai municipality reached out. Now he works with hyenas and vultures.

Drummer Tentoy Prado started the band with his brother when they came to Dubai in 2016. It’s been 10 years since, and after a couple of lineup changes, Skullcrusher has a simple goal now. 

“We are not so young anymore, but we came to Dubai for work, for our families. Music is not a dream, it’s our pastime,” said Prado. “We want stories to tell our kids after we are old and retired. So if I can achieve this within my lifetime, finish recording our album, tour Bahrain and Jordan, and maybe also South Korea and Taiwan, I will be very happy.”

Prado was in high school when the Berlin Wall fell. Watching that broadcast on the news, when Pantera was in its prime, seeing Lars Ulrich for the first time, drumming for Metallica, they just looked so free up there. He wanted to be like that.

For bassist RJ Ison, he caught it from his uncle, who frequently blasted “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath when they lived in Manila. It was sixth grade when that song started everything for him. 

“I saw [Black Sabbath] in Abu Dhabi, in 2014, they opened with ‘War Pigs,’” said Ison. “I heard that siren in the intro, and just started crying. I’m so glad I saw them before Ozzy left us.”

The Skullcrushers wore Slayer shirts, denim jackets with the sleeves ripped off, hair down to there, and chunky double-knotted sneakers. They dressed like the teenagers they refused to bury. Metal, the genre, much like the material, has a way of lingering, lasting. Time is precious because it ends. Metal never does.