A Metalhead in Norway: My Journey to the Inferno Festival

A Metalhead in Norway: My Journey to the Inferno Festival – Part 1

As a metal musician from Algeria, I never imagined that my first trip to Norway would be through an invitation to speak at the prestigious Inferno Conference, held alongside the iconic Inferno Metal Festival in Oslo. I was invited to join a panel discussion on the state of metal in the MENA (Middle East and North Africa) region, along with Shayan from Iran and Gigi Arabia from Saudi Arabia. The panel was hosted by Lina Khatib, the founder of the World Metal Congress, a platform that promotes metal scenes across the globe.

In this three-part article, I’ll take you through my five-day experience in Norway – my first time visiting this country – from the conference and festival to a very special guided tour on the legendary Black Metal Bus. Let’s dive into the journey.

Day 1 – Arrival in Oslo
My trip began very early – painfully early, in fact. I had to wake up at 2:45 AM to catch a flight at 6:30 AM. After landing in Paris around 10:00 AM, I had a long layover at Charles de Gaulle Airport until my connecting flight at 2:15 PM, which gave me time to wander around the terminal and publish a few online posts.

I finally landed in Oslo at 4:35 PM, local time. From the airport, I took the train straight to the central station – and just like that, I found myself in the heart of the Norwegian capital.

The first thing that struck me was the atmosphere: the city was quiet, almost eerily so. Compared to the chaos of Algiers or even Paris, there were very few people and even fewer cars. The air felt clean, and the temperature was much milder than I expected.

I made my way to my accommodation: the Clarion Hotel The Hub, a four-star hotel and the official venue for both the festival and the conference. Everything about the hotel impressed me – the clean, organized interior, the friendly and welcoming staff, and especially the attention to sustainability. In Norway, the environment is taken very seriously, and you can feel that in many subtle ways. For example, the main lights in my hotel room didn’t even turn on until nightfall – a detail I’ll come back to later.

After checking in and dropping off my luggage, I set out to find a SIM card, which is essential in a hyper-digital city like Oslo where everything – from transportation to event access – depends on having an internet connection.

Once connected, I took a short walk around the city center and checked the festival program. To my regret, I had just missed the Indie Recordings Party, but there was still the Welcome Party and a touching tribute to Jan-Martin Jansen, the founder of Inferno Festival who sadly passed away from cancer in February. The tribute was held at SALT art & music, just 15 minutes from the hotel. Still, I decided to rest – I’d been awake since before dawn, and the next day promised to be intense.

Day 2 – The Inferno Conference Panel
I woke up around 9:00 AM, picked up my phone... and was met with the dreaded message: “Please enter PUK code.” I looked everywhere, but couldn’t find the SIM packaging. Typical – something you only find the day after you need it.

I went down to the hotel breakfast, and let me tell you – as Erin Lynch (The Head of conference) had said, it was easily one of the best hotel breakfasts I’ve ever had. There, I met up with Shayan, Gigi, and Lina for a quick prep session before our panel later that day. We had a few minor disagreements, but overall we were aligned in our message.

After our meeting, I headed out to search for a new SIM card. Since it was Easter, nearly everything was closed. Eventually, I found a small kiosk in Oslo’s Somali district, where the locals were kind and helpful. Armed with a new SIM, I returned to the hotel to get ready for the big event.

Before our panel, there were several fascinating discussions – especially the one titled “In Defense of Valhalla.” Featuring the former President of Iceland and Johan Hegg, the legendary vocalist of Amon Amarth, the panel explored the use of Norse mythology in modern times – from cultural preservation to the disturbing trend of appropriation by hate groups.

At 2:00 PM, it was our turn. We took our seats, and Lina began the session by introducing herself and the World Metal Congress, which aims to unite metal artists, fans, and experts across borders to share culture, music, and ideas for the future.

She introduced Gigi Arabia, who founded Heavy Arabia Entertainment in Saudi Arabia and brought Cryptopsy, the first international metal band, to perform in the country. Then came my turn – Redouane, a veteran of the MENA metal scene for over three decades.

Finally, she introduced Shayan, an Iranian metalhead now based in the UK, founder and frontman of Trivax, and creator of the Iblis Manifestations podcast.

The discussion kicked off with Shayan, who explained that in Iran, women are not allowed to sing in public – not just in metal, but in any genre. He described his youth, discovering Metallica like so many of us did, and explained that Iran is a theocracy ruled by religious extremists, where playing or even listening to metal is considered a criminal act. Despite the fear and repression, he risked everything to keep playing.

Then it was my turn. Lina set the scene: “It’s 1992, Algeria is in the middle of a civil war. Journalists are being assassinated by Islamist militants... and Redouane appears on the scene. What were you doing?”

With a smile, I told the audience: we were innocent, ignorant, and above all – passionate about music. We discovered metal through Metallica and MTV’s Headbangers Ball. Instead of picking up weapons, we picked up instruments. That was our way of expressing ourselves.

We were living through what became known as The Black Decade, a brutal civil war in Algeria. Islamist extremists had won the elections, but the government canceled the results, leading to bombings, massacres, and chaos. Amid all that, we started playing metal – forming bands, rehearsing, and eventually writing our own songs.

Looking back, I realize how insane it was – but at the time, we were just young and driven by music.

Shayan echoed this, saying that coming from places where metal is suppressed makes us unique, and that we deserve to be heard for what we’ve endured. He recounted his first concert in Tehran in 2011 – a secret show disguised as a celebration of the Islamic Republic’s anniversary. The audience, all male (as required), had never heard metal before. The show featured drums and guitars, but no vocals (since singing in English was also banned).

They played for 45 minutes until smoke started to fill the building – they thought they were going to die. But it turned out they had accidentally set the school on fire! The show was cut short, but that was his first experience performing live – and in a way, it was as black metal as it gets.

Lina also shared a story about Lebanon, where metal was banned at one point by the government. She had a radio show back then – and played metal without the authorities even realizing what it was.

At that point, Lina turned the focus of the discussion toward the story of Saudi Arabia, which Gigi was about to dive into...

At this point, Lina shifts the discussion to a different story—that of Saudi Arabia—by introducing the well-known Gigi Arabia. She says: "Imagine there's a woman organizing metal concerts in Saudi Arabia, running her own company, and she even booked Cryptopsy to play there." Lina explains that this is a different context from what we’ve heard so far, and invites Gigi to tell her story.

Gigi Arabia begins by saying that while their stories may be different, they share the same challenges. She notes that in the past, there was a misconception about Saudi Arabia, especially regarding the banning of metal music at concerts. However, she clarifies that it wasn't just metal—all music was banned in public events, regardless of genre, whether pop, rock, or metal.

Things started to change in 2016 when the government announced Vision 2030, a strategic framework to diversify the economy and reduce dependency on oil. Music was identified as playing a key role in contributing to this vision. That’s when the first signs of change appeared—starting with sporting events and eventually leading to the first edition of the Soundstorm Festival in 2019.

This gave Gigi the confidence to start her own company, organizing concerts for genres that had never had a chance to be highlighted in Saudi Arabia. She was—and still is—the first and only person to do this kind of work in the region. Initially, she partnered with a label in Dubai before founding her own concert and event company specifically for metal shows.

Lina asks what has happened since then.

Gigi continues: In 2019, a local grindcore band played what she described as the first above-ground gig since the launch of Vision 2030 in 2016. After the COVID-19 pandemic, things picked up again, and in 2022 she was able to organize several events—including Cryptopsy, who were the first international metal band to ever play in Saudi Arabia, two weeks before Metallica's historic concert there. She shares a fun fact: Cryptopsy didn’t even know at first that they were playing in Saudi Arabia—they woke up one day to find a Saudi tour date on their schedule.

After Cryptopsy, Metallica came, and a documentary about Metallica's experience in Saudi Arabia was produced. Another event featured artists like Kiko Loureiro and Wolfheart from Finland (in December 2024), and included a local guitar competition that ended up inspiring the formation of several new bands.

Most recently, Gigi completed a government-sponsored accelerator program, where her company was selected as one of 15 finalists from an initial 250 businesses. The goal? To organize the first open-air metal festival in Saudi Arabia, which may happen in 2026. She emphasizes that there is indeed government support for this cultural transformation—and that metal is now part of that.

She even hints that some bands from Norway’s Inferno Festival may be included in the Saudi lineup.

Lina points out that the real “boom” happened in 2022—just three years ago—and the scale and speed of this transformation are simply extraordinary.

Gigi responds: "You have to understand, I still have a full-time job. We have to keep up, and everything we do is driven by passion—even when it's extremely difficult. There’s a lot of pressure, many obstacles, but it’s the passion that keeps us going. I wanted to contribute to Vision 2030 and be involved in the music scene, because I love this kind of music—whether it’s local bands or international acts."

Then Lina brings up the new Metallica documentary about their fans. She mentions that both she and Gigi appear in it, and encourages everyone to check it out when it’s released. She adds that Metallica’s performance in Saudi Arabia sent a global message—that the country is changing and now welcoming everyone.

Now we return to Algeria, and Lina asks me what the situation is like now and what we’re currently doing.
I explain that there are many bands trying to prepare to perform abroad in order to export the local metal scene internationally. We're also trying to reorganize concerts. The Algerian cultural environment was deeply affected by COVID, because the government didn’t support the arts during the pandemic. As a result, many musicians stopped playing—they had problems in their daily lives and had to give up music.
But now things are improving, and we’re planning to organize more shows, produce new albums, and export all of that.

Then Lina tells the audience that I’m part of Lelahell, and she asks how many of them have seen me perform with the band—for example at Incineration Festival in the UK. She adds that we’ve played in several countries across Europe.

I continue the discussion and say that we’ve performed in 17 countries: Malta, Liechtenstein, Slovenia, Slovakia, France, Poland, Spain, Italy… and everywhere, people kept asking the same question:
"You’re from Algeria, but you don’t actually live in Algeria, right?"
And we would answer:
"No—we’re based in Algeria."

That really surprised people. They were impressed to see us doing 15-show tours, and they would ask:
"Ah, so you have a big booking agent?"
And I would tell them:
"No, I book the dates myself."
I’ve gained experience by organizing many concerts and festivals in the past, like the Lelahel Festival.

Some international bands also came to play in Algeria—they were underground bands, but they were received like Metallica, because they were the first ever to perform in Algeria.
For example, there was a French band called Slavery who played metalcore. People wanted their autographs, and there was a huge crowd at the concerts.
It was truly something amazing.

Now Shayan talks to us about one of the photos showing his band SDS (Seven Deadly Sins) performing at Tehran University. He believes this was the first metal concert there, back in 2005, so quite a long time ago. That day, they played covers of songs by Death, but without vocals, since singing was banned at the time.

Today, there are many passionate people in Iran and quite a few active bands. For instance, Atash from the band Kaaboos performed outside the Iranian embassy in Oslo as a form of protest against the government's restrictions.

Shayan says, sadly, Iran is currently in the hands of mafias who oppress women. He adds that female metal musicians in Iran have more courage than he does, because performing under those conditions takes real bravery. Despite the government's extremist ideology, he believes they’re not as competent as they pretend to be.

He also humbly mentions that there are many guitarists in Iran who are far better than him, highlighting how much talent the country has. Unfortunately, they have no way to show it. He says that for a band to really know what they’re doing, they need to perform at least 100 shows, but many in Iran think that after playing one or two gigs, they’ll be famous or signed to a big label.

But the reality is that Iranian bands don't even have the chance to play that many concerts. That’s why Shayan feels truly honored—not only to break through the borders and barriers of his country, but also to do it here in Europe, carrying the torch for the entire region and showing the world:
“Look, we’re here.”

His band Trivax released the song ‘Asrael’, which has reached 898,000 views—more than many black metal bands in Europe. It's proof that Iranian black metal exists, and it deserves recognition.

They also collaborated with the Iranian channel RealxSnake , whose creator is based in Turkey but still works closely with Iran. The channel made a documentary about Trivax's story. The best feedback they received? Young teens, just 13 or 14 years old, commented on the video saying that it inspired them to pick up a guitar and start playing metal.

And honestly, that’s the best kind of feedback any of us could ask for—because it means the next generation is being prepared to carry the torch, and hopefully, one day, they’ll be able to do it in Iran itself.

Now let’s talk about women and Saudi Arabia, says Lina. She asks: What is the situation like for women and the metal scene there?

Gigi responds, pointing to a photo behind the screen of an old all-female rock band that will go on an EU tour soon. Today, women are found in leadership roles at record labels and artist management companies. She also shares that she’s been appointed as the president of the MMF—though it hasn’t officially started yet.

This, she says, is part of a larger push to empower women in the music industry. There’s now a Music Commission under the Ministry of Culture, and 50% of its members are women. These women are not just participating—they are making decisions and shaping the future of local music.

Gigi adds, “And here I am in Norway, talking about metal. That says a lot in itself.”

Lina picks up the thread and notes that even in European countries, government support for music isn’t always a given. "In Norway, sure—but in the UK? Trust me, it’s a very different story.”

Gigi jumps back in to highlight the Hunna initiative—named after the Arabic feminine plural for "they"—which is a female-led platform aimed at amplifying female talent across the MENA region. Women in this initiative share resources, exchange job opportunities within the music industry, and collaborate on albums. It’s a space where women support each other, and Gigi notes:
“You can see that new initiatives like this are emerging every day.”

Lina picks up the conversation again, pointing at Gigi and saying, "Here, we have a lot of opportunities." Then she gestures toward Shayan and adds, "And here, we’ve got a lot of 'we're going to do it no matter what' spirit." Finally, she points to me, in the middle, and says:
"And here we have Redouane. You've tried, you're still trying, and you've been working at this for 30 years. Based on your experience, what can this audience do to help people like you—and the new generation you've inspired across the region—continue this work? What can we do as a global metal community?"

I respond:

"First and foremost, as a community, it's about support.
That means listening to these bands—like Shayan said earlier—not as 'bands from that region,' and not as some kind of 'exotic' act. Just listen to them as music.

Back in the early 2000s, there were a lot of compilations labeled 'exotic metal' or 'oriental metal'—that was the trend at the time, with bands like Orphaned Land and Melechesh. But we shouldn't put bands into those boxes anymore.
Listen to the music for what it is—because there's real potential.

Support the music itself, and support the bands when they reach out to the media or to event organizers. Don’t approach it with prejudice or assumptions. Treat them like any other metal band—because metal is universal.

I used to run a website called LELAHEL Metal, which has recently been revived, and through that platform I discovered so many amazing bands—especially from Southeast Asia and South America, where there’s an incredible amount of energy in the scene. Metal is everywhere.

So support us the same way you support your local bands. That’s how we move forward—together."

Shayan turns to me and says, "You brought up a really important point—that when you listen to these bands, you should listen to them simply for who they are."

He continues:
"We need to redefine what it means to be a metal musician in Iran. More broadly, it's important to understand that the negative image often associated with our region comes from how our governments are portrayed in the media. But that doesn't reflect the musicians themselves. In fact, you'll find that 99.99% of these musicians are against those regimes. They want nothing to do with that kind of ideology or control.

So, give everyone a fair chance. At the end of the day, it really comes down to just one thing: is the music good?

There’s so much talent—especially when you look at it from an industry perspective. But that talent needs refinement. It’s like crude oil—you have to refine it before it becomes fuel. It's the same for musicians: there's immense raw potential that just needs the right opportunities to grow.

Personally, I’m incredibly grateful to be on this side of things—to be touring, to be signed with Osmose Productions, and to be sitting here on a panel like this with such amazing people beside me.

So please, keep an open mind—and give people a chance."

Gigi jumps back in, saying:
"You’ve all made an important point about giving everyone a fair chance. But I also want to add something about journalistic ethics.

One of the challenges I faced after founding Heavy Arabia and starting to gain more attention was dealing with journalists—unfortunately, in two separate instances, both were women—who deliberately removed my name from press releases. Even worse, they changed my pronouns from 'she' to 'he.' That’s something I had to confront directly.

If you think about it, that’s a really sad form of censorship—the very kind that Western media often criticizes our region for. And yet, here it is happening to us from their side.

Another issue is that some journalists come in with a fixed narrative in their head. They already know how they want to tell the story before they’ve even listened. Then when the article comes out, you realize it’s barely about the music at all—just a shallow intro and then nothing of real substance.

That kind of coverage isn’t just unhelpful—it’s counterproductive. It fails to show these bands in their best light.

So here’s my ask: speak honestly about these bands. Give them the right kind of attention. And please—don’t erase their struggles. They matter."

Lina steps back in and says, “What we’re talking about here is prejudice and ignorance.”

Gigi then brings up a press release where it said: “Gigi Arabia, founder of Heavy Arabia Entertainment, said ‘…’” — but when the article was published, it read: “The organizer of Heavy Arabia said ‘…’” — and used “he” instead of “she.”

Lina then announces, “We have a few minutes left for questions. If anyone would like to ask something, just raise your hand. And I hope to see you all again—even in all this darkness.”

Audience Question:
“Thank you for sharing your stories from such different regions. You mentioned that you want to be judged on your own merit, whether on the European or American scene—and I think that’s completely fair. You don’t want to give the impression that you’ve been handed a boost; you want to earn your place.

Shayan Responds: But do you think there’s room to also embrace your origins—your backgrounds in countries with repression, different challenges, and unique cultures—as part of the message?

Because personally, I find the stories behind the music meaningful. So I’m wondering: how can we communicate that incredible music is coming out of your region, music that deserves to be picked up by major labels? How can we help the rest of the world say, ‘Hey, there’s a fascinating scene growing here—look at these faces’—is there a way to do that?”

“Yes, that’s a really good question—thank you. And honestly, what we’re doing right now is exactly how we get the message out. This is how we share the story.

I also agree with what you said. I’ve spoken a lot about the history of Trivax—about what we did in Iran’s underground scene, the shows we played there, and how it all led to me relocating to the UK. I’ve shared those stories openly.

But here’s the thing: I want our band to be judged based on our music, not because we come from an oppressive country and deserve sympathy or special treatment. That’s the line I draw.

In fact, I think this goes beyond geography. It’s a human story. Because this isn’t just about being a metal musician. We all face hardships in life—challenges that, at some point, seem impossible to overcome. Every one of us has their own version of that story.

You, for example, may have grown up in a liberal society—but I’m sure you’ve still had your battles. They may be different from mine—growing up in Iran, playing music when it was dangerous—but the core is the same.

This is a human experience that anyone can relate to, and hopefully apply to their own life. Whatever your obstacle is—whether it’s about career, health, dreams—you can use this mindset to push through. That’s the spirit I hope we’re communicating.”*

Lina adds:
“Any other questions? Come on—how often do you get the chance to be part of a panel like this?”

Second question:
You mentioned government funding in Saudi Arabia. When the government supports your businesses, projects, or festivals — are there conditions? Do they expect you to promote their political agenda in return?

Gigi responds:
We do have a national funding body in place, and music is currently one of the sectors they’re exploring. However, everything remains quite vague — these aren’t music-specific funds, so it’s still a very unclear area. We know the money exists, but it’s not directed toward concrete music projects like album releases, tours, or festivals.

Unlike, say, the Norwegian funds — which are flexible and offer real support for creative output — we don’t yet have anything like that. We dream of it, honestly. Right now, artists don’t have access to that kind of structured financial support. That said, we’re aware that the government is working on creating a proper framework, so there is hope for the future.

Third question from the audience:
My first question was about music funding in Saudi Arabia — which you already answered, thank you. I also have a broader question: do you have any suggestions for the European music industry when it comes to journalistic ethics, particularly around promoting bands from your region?

Gigi responds:
That’s a really good question. Personally, I try to attend as many conferences and industry events as possible to build bridges between Saudi Arabia and the rest of the world. But the relationship is still very one-sided — people are excited to come here for the “exotic” experience, but it’s rarely reciprocal.

There’s no import-export mentality. It’s not like, “If I invite your band to play at my festival, I’ll also bring my band to yours.” Of course, we do have an official music delegation that meets twice a year, but beyond that, most efforts are entirely individual. I’m really trying to change that.

I’ve attended events like Talinn Music Week and other global music conferences, just to encourage this kind of exchange and create more balanced relationships.

Lina says:
“Thank you — our time is up. As you can see, we’ve had three true heavy metal ambassadors on this panel. Of course, we could go on talking for hours—days even—but we only had 45 minutes.

I encourage you to speak with them afterward, collaborate with them, dive into their music. Redouane is currently working on new material — both a solo project and more with Lelahell. He’s also brought a bunch of items to share with everyone here — all 100% free (holding them up) — so please, take whatever you like!

And if you’re not yet familiar with Shayan’s podcast Iblis Manifestation, please give it a listen. Through it, he’s created a platform for others and continues to enrich the global metal community.

Each one of you here contributes to that spirit, and it’s truly an honor for me to share this stage with you. Thank you so much for being with us today.

This panel may be over — but the story isn’t. I’ve chosen to spread the rest across other articles, because there’s so much more to share with you. So, until next time!

You can watch the full video conference here: