Rockin' the Casbah: A Review of 'Heavy Metal in Baghdad'

Rock and roll and Islam seem about as compatible as oysters and cheesecake, yet probably to the surprise of many Americans, there is a solid (although perhaps not yet omnipresent) rock presence in the Middle East. Canada’s Vice Films sent a crew under Suroosh Alvi to Iraq in 2006 to document a concert by a heavy metal band, “Acrassicauda,” whom they had been following since 2003. And, yes, Virginia, they did play heavy metal.

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Alvi has a running under-commentary about the on-going ubiquitous Iraq war, which was strangely (and refreshingly) undefined and unfocused. Certainly a critical view of America’s actions underscored the shots of bombed out hotels, of guard checks, and most of all, of the stories told by the band members. “Firas” (who knows if these were real names, given security issues) the bass player, spoke the best English and thus became the central character; “Tony,” the lead guitarist, though hyped as a spectacular talent, was barely average by western standards. “Marwan,” the drummer, and “Faisal,” the second vocalist that Alvi talked to (the first having fled to Syria) offered occasional pity comments. According to Marwan, “if you can teach every prisoner to play drums . . . you’re gonna have good citizens. . . .” (Here in the United States, I think we have tried that by having them do laundry or make license plates. Not sure if that’s worked yet.)

Band members addressed the extreme difficulty they had in even practicing in a city in which every block had either a check point or was controlled by one militia or another. Then there was the electric power issue: during the one concert Alvi filmed (in front of perhaps 20 people, all males), the electricity went out after a few songs. Alvi himself quickly experienced the impossibility of carrying normal western-style interviews in war-torn Baghdad. His crew paid $1400 U.S. dollars a day for two drivers, two shooters, a translator, an armored SUV and a second vehicle, which he thought was a steal under the circumstances. Most of the filming came from hand-held cameras; much of it from the windows of the SUV or in isolated apartments or alleys. Even getting from one block to the next in 2006–before the surge–was difficult, and Alvi found that talking to ordinary Iraqis at that time was impossible. They trusted no one, and the western reporters hid in the hotels, sending Iraqi camera crews out to get footage and report back, whereupon the brave journalists would do voice-overs as if they were there.

The most amazing aspect of “Heavy Metal in Baghdad” is that, however representative or unrepresentative Acrassicauda was, they were hardly a jihadist anti-western band. Under Saddam, merely “head-banging” could land you in jail! Acrassicauda sported “Metallica” and “Slipknot” t-shirts; learned their music from American and British metal bands (whom they loved); listened to bootleg American tapes; and flat-out admitted, “we’re not a politic [sic] band. . . . we stay out of politics . . . .” Firas noted “I don’t give a f -k about the news. . . . I’m trying my best to get out of the country [to where] I can have peace.” When Alvi first contacted the group, Saddam Hussein was still in power, and the band members recalled that they were only allowed to play a concert if they wrote a special song to Saddam, which they did. It had “shit lyrics” they agreed: “Following our leader Saddam Hussein, we’ll make them fall, drive them insane.” Come to think of it, the lyrics in Van Hagar weren’t all that terrific, either. By the way, the band’s name, Acrassicauda, is Latin for “black scorpion.”

Indeed, the absence of a jihadist or even Islamic tone to anything was stunning. Instead of praying before playing (as many Christian bands do), Acrassicauda gave a rousing football-type cheer: “Acrassicauda–let’s go!” Firas observes “I’m Sunni, my wife is Shiite,” and suspected “someone else” was causing the violence in Iraq,” though he didn’t name the U.S. “I got nothing against religion,” he said, “I’m a Muslim but I’m not that straight.” During the entire movie, there was not a single Allahu Ackbar or discussion of jihad, paradise, the Great Satan, or holy war. Firas also observed that “people” came into Iraq from “Turkey, Iran, everywhere,” by which he meant al-Qaeda terrorists.

In the end, Alvi’s would-be story of an Iraqi heavy metal band ends up like that of most American rock bands. Unable to practice or play (or, in the U.S., pay the bills), Acrassicauda goes to Damascus where they eventually break up. Perhaps one lesson of “Heavy Metal in Baghdad” is that without the USO, it’s damned tough to have “normal” entertainment in war zones, regardless of the style of music being offered. But Alvi perhaps could have gone much deeper with the more important theme of how these Muslims looked so much like American Christian youth who had fallen away from the church for secular pursuits. And still more important, there is an unexplored question of whose culture is more powerful–the fundamentalist Islam of the mullahs or the freedom, in whatever its lyrics and musical form, embodied in the West.

Heavy Metal in Baghdad (2008), Produced by Eddie Moretti and Suroosh Alvi, directed by Eddie Moretti and Suroosh Alvi, VBS/Vice Films (148 minutes).