Music moves fast. Sometimes it moves too fast. We’re currently living in an era where a song goes viral on a Friday and is completely forgotten by Tuesday morning. But back in 2021, a specific project started bubbling up in the dark corners of the internet that didn't just disappear. I’m talking about 3 Cheers for Satan. It wasn’t a mainstream pop record. It wasn't something you'd hear at a grocery store. It was gritty. It was raw. Honestly, it felt like a middle finger to the polished, over-produced landscape of modern hip-hop and trap.
If you’ve spent any time on SoundCloud or deep-diving into the "Sigilkore" scene, you know the name. But for most people, the title alone is enough to make them do a double-take. Is it a cult thing? Is it just edgy marketing?
The reality is a lot more nuanced than just "shock value." This project represents a very specific moment in the evolution of the underground. It’s about aesthetic rebellion. It's about a group of artists who were bored with the status quo and decided to make something that sounded like a glitch in the matrix.
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The Raw Sound of 3 Cheers for Satan
You can’t talk about this without talking about the sound. It’s abrasive. Imagine taking a standard trap beat, putting it through a digital meat grinder, and then screaming over it while the speakers are literally blowing out. That is the essence of 3 Cheers for Satan.
Many people confuse the title with some kind of literal religious statement. It’s not. In the context of the underground scene—specifically the collective known as 2000—it was about transgression. It was about taking imagery that society finds "bad" or "evil" and using it as a canvas for high-energy, distorted art. It’s the same energy that fueled 1990s black metal or early 2000s shock rock, just repackaged for the digital age.
The production on these tracks is fascinatingly messy. You have high-pitched, almost chipmunk-like vocals layered over heavy 808s that are so distorted they barely sound like drums anymore. Artists like Axxturel (the primary architect of this sound) used these textures to create a sense of frantic urgency. It’s music for the "chronically online" generation. It’s fast. It’s loud. It’s short. Most of the tracks barely hit the two-minute mark because, honestly, the human ear can only take so much of that frequency before it needs a break.
Why the Underground Obsesses Over the Occult
So, why the name? Why call it 3 Cheers for Satan?
If you look at music history, artists have always used the devil as a metaphor for freedom and the rejection of societal norms. From Robert Johnson at the crossroads to Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," the trope is well-worn. However, in the 2020s underground, it took on a digital flavor.
- It acts as a barrier to entry. If the name scares you off, the music probably isn't for you anyway.
- It plays into the "edgelord" aesthetic of early internet forums.
- It creates a community of outsiders.
There is a sense of "us vs. them." When a project like this drops, it isn't looking for a spot on a Spotify "Top Hits" playlist. It’s looking for the kids who feel alienated by those playlists. It’s a badge of honor to listen to something that your parents—or even your "normie" friends—would find genuinely unlistenable.
The Impact of Sigilkore and 2000
We have to mention the 2000 collective here. They weren't just making music; they were building an entire visual language. The cover art for 3 Cheers for Satan and similar projects often features low-resolution imagery, sigils, and distorted faces. It’s a "lo-fi" aesthetic pushed to its absolute extreme.
This wasn't just about sounding "bad." It was a deliberate choice. In an age where anyone can download a high-quality beat and record a clean vocal on their iPhone, "clean" is boring. "Clean" is corporate. By making the music sound like it was recorded inside a trash can during a thunderstorm, these artists reclaimed their autonomy. They proved that vibe and energy matter more than technical "perfection."
Is it for everyone? Absolutely not.
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But that’s exactly why it worked. The "gatekeeping" of this sound was part of its charm. You had to know where to look. You had to be part of the Discord servers and the private SoundCloud links. It felt like a secret club.
Misconceptions and the Digital Mythos
A lot of the "satanic" panic surrounding this project and the artists involved was, frankly, overblown. There’s a big difference between aesthetic occultism and actual ritual practice. Most of these kids were just fans of anime, horror movies, and old-school RPGs. They took those dark aesthetics and mashed them together.
Some critics argued that the music was "low effort." They pointed to the clipping audio and the repetitive lyrics as proof of a lack of talent. But that misses the point. It’s like looking at a Jackson Pollock painting and saying, "My kid could do that." Maybe they could, but they didn't. The intentionality behind the chaos of 3 Cheers for Satan is what gives it staying power.
It captured a feeling of digital decay.
As our lives move more and more into the cloud, our art is starting to reflect the glitches of that environment. This project is the sound of a corrupted file. It’s the sound of a screen flickering in a dark room at 3:00 AM.
The Legacy of the Sound
Where is the scene now? Well, the underground is always cannibalizing itself. Many of the original pioneers of the "Sigilkore" sound have moved on to other styles or vanished from the internet entirely. That’s the nature of the beast. But you can still hear the influence of 3 Cheers for Satan in the way modern "Hyperpop" and "Rage" beats are mixed.
The "loudness war" has been won by the underground. Producers are no longer afraid to let their tracks red-line. They’ve learned that distortion can be a lead instrument, not just a mistake.
If you’re looking to dive into this world, don't expect a smooth ride. It’s going to be jarring. You might hate it at first. But if you sit with it, you might start to hear the melody buried under the static. You might start to understand the catharsis of screaming into the digital void.
How to Explore This Genre Safely
If you're curious about the rabbit hole that 3 Cheers for Satan opened up, there are a few ways to navigate it without getting overwhelmed by the sheer volume of content out there.
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First, look for the producers. In this corner of the music world, the person making the beat is often more important than the person on the mic. Look for names associated with the 2000 collective. Listen to how they manipulate samples. It’s basically sound design disguised as music.
Second, check out the visual side. Look at the music videos on YouTube. They are often edited with dizzying speed, full of flashing lights and distorted filters. It’s a total sensory assault.
Lastly, keep an open mind. This isn't about "good" or "bad" in the traditional sense. It’s about expression. It’s about a specific group of people at a specific time saying, "This is how we feel, and we don't care if you like it."
To really understand the impact of this movement, you should look into the history of SoundCloud "pluggnb" and how it mutated into the darker, more aggressive sounds we see today. The lineage is there. It’s a direct line from the melodic stuff to the absolute chaos of 3 Cheers for Satan. It’s a fascinating study in how fast subcultures can evolve when they are powered by the internet.
The biggest takeaway here is that names are often just masks. Whether it's a "scary" title or an abrasive sound, these are just tools used by artists to carve out a space for themselves in a crowded world. You don't have to be a fan of the aesthetic to appreciate the hustle and the raw creativity it took to build an entire movement out of glitchy audio and internet myths.
Next Steps for the Curious Listener:
- Audit the Source: Search for the original "2000" collective tracks on SoundCloud rather than Spotify to hear the unedited, raw versions.
- Track the Evolution: Compare the 2021-era distortion with modern "Rage" beats from artists like Ken Carson or Playboi Carti to see how underground grit eventually influences the mainstream.
- Explore the Visuals: Look up "Sigilkore" aesthetic edits to understand the connection between the audio distortion and the visual "glitch" art movement.