Before he was an icon, Kim Bendix Petersen was just another kid in Copenhagen lugging gear through the mid-70s gloom with Brainstorm and Black Rose. By the time Mercyful Fate coalesced in ’81, he’d stopped playing the part of a frontman and started inhabiting something far more unsettling. To hear that first EP is to hear a man daring the listener to laugh at his theatrics, only to realize the music is too sharp, too lethal, to be a joke. When the Fate inevitably fractured in '85—as bands built on such rigid alchemy usually do—the King simply took the candles and the bone-cross with him. His solo output didn't just 'feature' horror; it exhaled it, turning 12-inch vinyl into a physical medium for ghost stories. It’s music that smells of old velvet and cheap stage fog, anchored by a voice that shouldn't work but somehow, impossibly, does. You either buy into the ritual or you don’t, but you never forget the first time that scream hits the speakers. King Diamond Wiki