I’m sitting here writing as my 10 month old puppy runs amok, listening to Thin Lizzy’s amazing Bad Reputation on a vinyl re-issue and wondering how I got to this point. It wasn’t too long ago I was just a fanboy with a mouth, often misled and easily influenced by public opinion. My broadcasting background led to a podcast which led to another podcast and a writing gig. I learned to speak my mind without bias then, guided by a team of peers that I will always hold dear to my heart. Through this, doors were opened for me and I’ve never been more grateful. I’ve since moved on, publishing a pair of genre fiction short stories with another on the way and now…I’m at it with another podcast and more written words.

Thin Lizzy comes to mind again. Phil Lynott, the man behind the band, was a true Gaelic Bard. The darkest son of Ireland had a dense circle of talented musicians work with him on his many musical projects. And as many demons. Phil’s legacy is that of plenty. His collection of music and poetry is certainly a treasure of our modern age. Many people think of Phil’s primary band, Thin Lizzy, as a heavy metal throwaway, a one hit wonder of the 70’s. That is not the case. When you dig into the vault that is the Thin Lizzy song catalogue, you find a wealth of rousing, often lamenting, ballads and anthems. Like a Bard, each word has meaning and each song tells a story. Nothing is wasted.

My path has been similar to Phil’s. Thin Lizzy and its revolving line up wasn’t his only gig. Before he passed, Phil often jammed with his best pal (and, in turn, my favorite guitarist), the late Gary Moore. He did a solo thing. He was a true rogue and I guess that’s me, too. I’m always pushing barriers, often taking things to an extreme. Hey, if you’re going to dive into the pool, do it in the deep end, feet first, and don’t come up until you touch bottom. Right?

When we lost Phil Lynott in 1986, I wept. I understood the loss the world faced. I embraced his music even more so, digging deeper into his catalogue, voraciously devouring every bit of it. One day, not long after, I had an epiphany. I realized that Phil never really died. And no, not in an “I saw Elvis at the video store” manner. I mean Phil Lynott obtained immortality through his prose and composition. I’m not daring to say that, though I do intend for this current project to make some sort of impact in the annals of music and fiction. This will be done by approaching the subjects of our discussions and finding links between two similar, yet disparate, mediums; much in the same manner Phil Lynott blended his Irish and Brazilian heritage to create his music. The end result of the latter was something special. What we shall accomplish here is yet to be determined.

This is the NECROCASTICON. It was born of common interests and similar motivations between kindred souls. It is a rain of blood and gore upon your senses, encapsulating the glory of rock-n-roll’s fringe with fiction’s boogeyman. We are here to possess your senses and challenge your thinking.

The words of Phil Lynott will end our little chat. Let them serve as a warning of what is to come. It’s from his ode to Jack the Ripper, KILLER ON THE LOOSE…

“But you’ve got plenty of reason to worry honey,

“Cause you wouldn’t stand a hope,

“There’s a killer on the loose again…”