Mirthless: How A Local Black Metal Band Took Their Fury To Parliament

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If you’ve ever been to a Mirthless show, you know exactly what we mean when we say the energy is pure fire.

The kind that doesn’t just burn—it ignites. There’s an almost primal urgency to their sound, an unrelenting force that grips you by the throat and refuses to let go. But what happens when that same energy spills beyond the stage? When the rage that fuels their music turns into something far more potent—political action?

JUICE sat down with Mirthless after their recent blitz through Parliament (yes, you read that right), a student-led protest, and a couple of blistering live shows that saw them screaming about existential despair one night and systemic rot the next. From the underground to the streets to the hallowed halls of government, the band has become an undeniable force in Malaysia’s music and activist landscape.

And if you think they’re just a black metal band who got lost on the way to a gig, think again.

 

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Black Metal Meets Policy Debate

According to Mirthless, something has shifted. “Before, black metal was just the usual bogeyman—Satanism, moral decay, the usual magazine headlines,” they tell us. “Now? We’re apparently black metal nerds who crash Parliament to talk about legislation. A glow-up, maybe?”

For a scene that has long been vilified, Mirthless’ unexpected entry into political discourse has done more than just challenge perceptions—it’s forced a conversation that the authorities would rather avoid.

“We didn’t exactly set out to be the punk rock political science faculty,” they admit. “But honestly, we welcome this development. If our existence gets people to think more critically about the systems governing them, we’ve already done more public service than some elected officials.”

What started as a band making brutally heavy music has evolved into something far bigger: A movement. One that bridges the underground scene, student protests, and activism in ways Malaysia hasn’t seen before. “A lot of them may not even enjoy black metal,” they say, “but they see why this fight matters—because what happens to us will eventually happen to them too.”

See, when the state cracks down on free speech, artists—especially underground musicians, filmmakers, and writers—are always the first casualties.

“This government knows how dangerous culture can be,” they said. “They know that music, literature, film—these things shape people’s minds. That’s why they come for the artists first.

“We’ve seen it before. Albums banned. Books pulled from shelves. Concerts cancelled for being ‘unsuitable.’ If these new laws pass, the government won’t even need an excuse anymore. They can just erase you.

“But the irony?” Mirthless continued. “Art thrives under repression. The more they try to kill it, the more it mutates, the stronger it becomes.”

And that’s the story of how a local black metal band was invited by Kolektif Seni Dan Budaya Malaysia (KSBM) to Parliament to speak to MPs about the Mufti bill within Wilayah Persekutuan and its potential to expand religious control over local arts, culture, and general creative expression. Because “if anyone knows how state overreach screws over musicians, it’s a band that’s been accused of Satanism at least once.

 

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For context:

  • The Mufti Bill gives religious authorities unchecked power to decide what constitutes “deviancy.” In a country where black metal was once labelled as “Satanic” by the government, that’s a terrifying precedent.
  • The CMA amendments make it easier for authorities to shut down websites, censor content, and criminalise speech that challenges the state’s narrative. In short: If they don’t like what you say, they can make sure nobody hears it.

From the Mosh Pit to the Frontlines

Mirthless recently stood alongside Himpunan Advokasi Rakyat Malaysia (HARAM), a coalition of student organisations leading the charge against government repression. “The one in Dataran Merdeka, the one in Sabah before it—these were their fights. We were there to support, but they built the moment.”

HARAM has been actively organising protests and pushing back against oppressive legislation. For the band, standing shoulder to shoulder with these student activists wasn’t about optics—it was personal. “One of them, Tobey Qi-Sean, is part of HARAM and also part of the Mirthless network. We’ve seen him carry this fight on his back to the point of physical and mental exhaustion.”

And that’s the brutal reality of activism—especially in Malaysia.

“These kids have risked more, suffered more, fought harder than most,” Mirthless told us.

“They stood when they were told to kneel, spoke when they were told to be silent. They’re facing threats of suspension, police intimidation, the exhaustion that comes from fighting battles their elders should have fought long before them. And yet—they move forward.”

“We’ve seen it happen before,” they said. “The state doesn’t just punish activists. It erodes them. It makes the fight so exhausting that people burn out and disappear. That’s the real weapon. That’s how they win.”

Yes, this is bigger than a single protest. It’s about a system that tries to crush resistance before it can even begin.

 

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“This wasn’t some sterile, scripted demonstration—this was real, unfiltered rage. You could feel it in the chants, in the way people held their banners, in the tension in their bodies. People weren’t just showing up. They were standing their ground.”

For many from the underground scene, this was their first protest. “Some had never been to one before, but they came because they understood—this wasn’t just about politics; it was about survival. If corruption runs unchecked, if laws are passed to silence dissent, if the state continues to tighten its grip on artistic expression, then the underground scene will be among the first to suffer.”

And Mirthless makes one thing clear: “This was more than just a protest. It was a warning shot.”

The outcome?

The Peaceful Assembly Act 2012 was amended to remove the requirement for organisers to obtain venue owner permission, while the police withdrew the summons for three student activists to be questioned.

Check it out for yourself:

 

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March by Day, Mosh by Night

You’d think after marching in the streets and making political waves, they’d take a breather. Nope. The same night as the protest, Mirthless played a show. A few days later, they took the stage again, right after their Parliament session.

“Was it part of the plan? Not exactly—but also, in a way, yes,” they say. “The transition from protest to performance isn’t as drastic as it seems. Both are about channeling something raw, something urgent, something bigger than yourself.”

“The streets and the stage aren’t separate worlds. They feed into each other. The more they try to clamp down on art, speech, and expression, the more necessary both activism and performance become.”

It’s clear that Mirthless isn’t just making music. They’re making a statement—one that gets louder every time someone tries to shut them up.

So what’s next for Mirthless?

An album. The Burden of Existence is currently in the works. “Because apparently, screaming into the void needs to be recorded, mixed, and mastered before it counts.”

And beyond the music? “We’re not stopping. We’ve already crossed the line from just playing music to actively challenging the systems that try to control it—there’s no walking that back now.”

Would they continue engaging in policy discussions? “Well, we never planned on it in the first place, but here we are—a black metal band that now has firsthand experience with legislative advocacy. So if that’s what it takes? Sure.”

 

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“We’ll keep showing up in places where we shouldn’t be, having conversations we aren’t supposed to have, until the people in power realise that suppressing expression only makes us louder.”

Mirthless refuses to separate their art from their activism. Because for them, they were never separate to begin with.

The band then left us with this parting message:

“We did not ask to inherit a nation where truth is negotiable, where justice is ornamental, where power is currency traded among the corrupt. We did not ask to live under laws written to protect the powerful and punish the powerless. We did not ask for this.”

“But we are here. And if we must carry the burden of existence, we will carry it with purpose.”

To the students: You have fought battles your elders should have fought long before you. We are with you. To the activists: This country does not deserve you. But history will honour you. To the politicians: We will remember who listens and who doesn’t. To the general public: Do not mistake your comfort for freedom. Do not mistake your silence for safety.

“The redemption of Malaysia must begin. And it won’t come from Parliament. It will come from us.”

If there’s one thing Mirthless—and the movement around them—have proven, it’s that resistance isn’t just alive; it’s loud as hell, and it’s not stopping anytime soon. Bak kata Mirthless, hidup rakyat. Hidup mahasiswa. Panjang umur perjuangan. Dirgahayu para seniman.

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