Celtic Frost | History of the Band

A look at one of extreme metal’s boldest shape-shifters, before black metal had a name, before avant-garde went electric.

Celtic Frost didn’t just crawl out of the crypt, they blew the door off its hinges.
You might assume they were just another underground thrash band from the mid-'80s.
Not quite. When Hellhammer fell apart in 1984, Tom Gabriel Fischer (aka Tom G. Warrior) and Martin Eric Ain weren’t interested in repeating themselves. They wanted something bigger—more cinematic, more shadowy. Something mythic. Something that felt ancient and modern all at once.

So they started Celtic Frost in Zürich, Switzerland, bringing in Stephen Priestly on drums and heading to Berlin’s Caet Studio to lay down their first tracks.
And just like that, Morbid Tales was born. That EP wasn’t just a continuation of Hellhammer—it was a metamorphosis, introducing the metal underground to a sound rooted in raw aggression and theatrical vision.

Musical Style and Evolution

From the beginning, Celtic Frost didn’t play by the rules—they rewrote them.
While most early extreme metal bands doubled down on speed or brutality, Celtic Frost added textures: eerie choirs, classical strings, and a deep sense of space and dynamics.

You could hear classical music in the bones of the riffs, and art school weirdness in the arrangements. That mix of raw metal and avant-garde ambition set them apart fast.
Sure, it was a risk, but that’s what made it feel dangerous. And alive. Albums felt like journeys through ruined temples, haunted cathedrals, and dystopian futures.

They weren’t afraid to change. With every record, the band evolved—regardless of whether their fans were ready.

David Gorgos suggested this artist for a future Dig Me Out podcast episode. Each month, our Patrons are presented with a selection of albums suggested by listeners and asked to vote for their favorite.

Discography and Notable 80s Albums

Let’s rewind through their 1980s output, album by album, surprise by surprise. Each one is its own dark mirror.

Morbid Tales (1984)

Their debut on Noise Records kicked in the door. Recorded at Caet Studio with producer Horst Müller, Morbid Tales sounded like something unearthed from beneath a church crypt.

Tracks like “Into the Crypts of Rays” and “Procreation (Of the Wicked)” weren’t just heavy—they were ritualistic. This was storytelling wrapped in chains: cold, primitive, and yet shockingly self-aware.

The original European release featured six tracks, while the American version added two more. That detail matters—it shaped how different fans encountered the band for the first time.

To Mega Therion (1985)

The full-length follow-up, To Mega Therion, took things further.
Yes, that’s the one with the H.R. Giger cover art (Satan I), which looked exactly like the album sounded: twisted, majestic, and strange.

With Dominic Steiner on bass (briefly replacing Ain), the band added French horns and choirs into the mix. Recorded at Casablanca Studio in Berlin, the record felt both ancient and futuristic—built for a throne room and a dungeon.

This was a concept album of sorts, exploring themes of power, occultism, and destruction. It earned praise from underground zines and, eventually, major metal outlets recognized it as a landmark release.

Into the Pandemonium (1987)

By the late '80s, most metal bands were doubling down on speed and shredding.
Celtic Frost zagged.

Into the Pandemonium, recorded in Hanover with Harris Johns, threw the entire rulebook out the stained-glass window. Operatic vocals. Industrial elements. A cover of Wall of Voodoo’s “Mexican Radio.” It was a sprawling, strange record that somehow held together.

Fans didn’t always know what to make of it, but it forced everyone to pay attention. It included ambient interludes, female vocals, and stark lyrics about war, madness, and betrayal.

Some hailed it as genius. Others were confused. But no one ignored it.

Cold Lake (1988)

And then came Cold Lake. Let’s just say—it’s the black sheep of their catalog.

With a new lineup (including Oliver Amberg on guitar and Curt Victor Bryant on bass) and a glammed-up visual style, the album leaned hard into a sleeker, more commercial sound. Produced by Tony Platt and recorded at Hansa Tonstudio in Berlin, Cold Lake was polished and catchy, but it lacked the menace that defined earlier Frost records.

Even Tom G. Warrior would later call it a misstep. But in a strange way, it adds to their legend—few bands swung that far and lived to tell the tale.

Still, it had its defenders. Some fans argue that if you strip away the glam aesthetics, there are decent riffs and strong performances hiding beneath. But it’s a hard sell.

Over the years, Celtic Frost's discography has read like a case study in creative risk-taking. Early records like Morbid Tales and To Mega Therion earned the band underground credibility and media buzz, especially in Europe. Kerrang! praised their ambition—even if it wasn’t always clear where they were heading.

Into the Pandemonium was polarizing but impossible to ignore. Critics applauded its boldness, even when they weren’t sure it worked.

Cold Lake? That one got the side-eye. Fans and press alike weren’t sure what they were seeing or hearing. It would take decades (and reissues) for some listeners to revisit it with fresh ears.

Interestingly, as time passed, critical opinion began to soften. Retrospectives and box sets started recontextualizing the band’s entire arc—not just their peaks, but their misfires too—as essential to understanding who they were.

Influence and Legacy

Celtic Frost helped lay the groundwork for black metal, doom, and avant-garde metal all at once. Therion (the band) took their name from To Mega Therion. Opeth, Mayhem, Paradise Lost, and even Kurt Cobain name-dropped them as an influence.

And Tom G. Warrior didn’t stop. His later band, Triptykon, carried on the darkness with style and substance, earning praise from a new generation of metal fans. Albums like Eparistera Daimones are often seen as spiritual successors to Pandemonium.

What’s more, Frost’s aesthetic—gothic, stark, theatrical—became a blueprint for dozens of bands across genres. You hear echoes of them in death-doom, industrial, blackgaze, and even in the visual stylings of bands like Behemoth or Ghost.

Their legacy? It's not just about influence. It’s about possibility.
They showed what metal could be. Celtic Frost’s story is about the pursuit of a sound that didn’t exist yet. Of visions that felt just out of reach.

They moved through the ‘80s like a band possessed, creating records that sound as mysterious now as they did then. And for anyone who stayed up late taping Headbanger’s Ball or thumbed through the import section at the mall, their music still triggers something visceral.

Maybe it’s time to go back. Drop the needle. Reopen the crypt.

---

---