In a forgotten Finnish town, in a time when boy bands still ruled the earth, a teenage boy named Christian crouched over his guitar, pursuing his ultimate goal of becoming ”The World's Fastest Guitar Player”. A naive dream, it might seem, shared with far too many young guitarists – the only difference this time being: this boy would actually come very close. Plus, reaching for the stars sometimes has other benefits: in the eager attempts of learning to control bpm's of lightning speed, ultra-rapid shredding that would sound chaotic in most hands, he would eventually perfect a style seemingly without limits, possessing a wide spectrum both emotionally and technically.

To the tune of guitar fireworks his younger brother Stefan sat in a room nearby, staring into the forest outside the window. Something had taken its hold on him lately; somehow he had started writing poems dedicated to this being he imagined living deep within the woods – an untamed twin, an uncivilized doppelganger, a version of himself more beast than human. Inside the safety of his room, staring into the wild, the fine line between order and chaos, consciousness and subconsciousness, sanity and insanity seemed temptingly easy to cross. At least in words on paper.

In the meantime, in the midst of another forest that lay further south, their kouzin Kebu already had begun a collection of keyboards and synthesizers that eventually would reach a three figured number. Like a mad scientist experimenting with all kinds of newly purchased gadgets, apparatuses and gizmos he wrote songs about saving the world, about battling inner demons and fears, creating a sound-world ranging from horrifying tragedy to melodically inspired beauty.

Years flew by. Riffs were invented, lyrics written, still unmerged.

One day the three boys, now grown up, met up and dragged their own separate elements to a single mix, like medieval workers carrying stones to the foundations of a cathedral, each effort representing a personal sin to be forgiven. Realizing their first experiments were promising, they decided it had to be taken a step further. The building of a cathedral needs mortar, especially one as complex as the one now taking shape. Soon the mortar would come in the form of two local bad eggs; the drummer Hans – a man producing more sawdust with his drumsticks than a sawmill – and the bassist Skogge – a character surrounded with tales and legends so plentiful it's hard to tell the man from the myth – both with a solid musical know-how derived from early childhood years.

With the aid of these two gentlemen a unique brand of heavy metal could be realized. Highly aggressive, still bound together with a sophisticated technical perfection. Progressive and inventive, yet its sheer complex technicality often seems to push it over the edge of order and sanity, into the world of chaos and insanity. Thus, the untamed twin, the wild doppelganger within the subconscious realm inside us all, took its first steps out of the woods of the human psyche.

Kouzin Bedlam was born.