15 Chilling Backmasking Messages in Classic Songs That Will Shock You

Have you ever heard a song played backwards? The Beatles kicked off this whole backmasking craze back in 1966 on "Revolver." They took ordinary music, flipped it in reverse, and started something that would spook, fascinate, and outrage listeners for decades.

Some bands just wanted to have a bit of creative fun with the technique. Others? They found themselves smack in the middle of courtroom drama. Take Judas Priest — these guys faced a full-blown lawsuit in 1990 when their track "Better by You, Better than Me" supposedly contained hidden messages that pushed two young men toward tragedy. (More on that wild story later.)

Led Zeppelin got themselves tangled up in satanic panic accusations with "Stairway to Heaven." In contrast, Pink Floyd went opposite, burying congratulatory Easter eggs in "Empty Spaces" for fans dedicated enough to hunt them down.

The whole thing's fascinating — part moral outrage, musical innovation, and cultural mythology.

Is there really something sinister lurking in your record collection? Or is this our brains desperately finding patterns in random noise? I've compiled 15 spine-tingling examples from music history that might forever change how you hear these classics. Some will send chills down your spine, others will make you laugh at the absurdity of it all. Ready to spin your turntable backwards and see what's hiding in the grooves?

Led Zeppelin – Stairway to Heaven

Image Source: John M Jennings

"Stairway to Heaven" might be rock's most infamous backmasking tale. It all started in 1981 when Christian DJ Michael Mills began playing the track backwards on his radio show, claiming he'd uncovered something truly sinister lurking beneath those iconic chords.

Stairway to Heaven backmasking message

The supposed devilish message hides in that middle bit where Plant sings "If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now..." Spin that section backwards, and many swore they heard:

• "Here's to my sweet Satan"

• "The one whose little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan"

• "He'll give those with him 666"

• "There was a little toolshed where he made us suffer, sad Satan”

  
  

The human brain loves finding patterns in chaos. Different listeners pick up entirely different phrases from the same audio soup. Eddie Kramer, who engineered for the band, called the whole thing "totally and utterly ridiculous." He asked the obvious question: why would they "spend so much studio time doing something so dumb"?

Alleged satanic references in Stairway to Heaven

The fire caught when folks connected Jimmy Page's purchase of Boleskine House — Aleister Crowley's former digs on Loch Ness — with these supposed hidden messages. Suddenly, Zeppelin weren't just rock gods; they were potential devil worshippers in the public imagination.

Robert Plant wasn't having it. "To me it's very sad," he lamented, "because 'Stairway to Heaven' was written with every best intention, and as far as reversing tapes and putting messages on the end, that's not my idea of making music". Jimmy Page echoed this sentiment with a typical British understatement, noting that it would be "hard enough writing music one way round".

Public reaction to Led Zeppelin's backmasking

America's moral guardians went into full panic mode. In January 1982, Televangelist Paul Crouch amplified these claims on his Trinity Broadcasting Network, sending parents scrambling to check their teenagers' record collections. California assemblyman Phil Wyman even proposed legislation requiring warning labels on albums containing backmasking.

The madness peaked when the California State Assembly's Consumer Protection Committee held formal hearings, during which self-proclaimed "neuroscientific researcher" William Yarroll testified that our brains could subconsciously process backwards messages. (The actual science suggests otherwise, but why let facts hinder a good moral panic?)

Swan Song Records, Zeppelin's label, offered perhaps the perfect response: "Our turntables only play in one direction—forwards". Despite scientists dismissing the whole thing as "Rorschach Audio" — essentially our minds finding familiar patterns in random noise — the controversy cemented "Stairway to Heaven" in rock mythology. The episode shows how music interpretation often says more about cultural anxieties than artistic intent.

Judas Priest – Better by You, Better than Me

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While Led Zeppelin dealt with moral panic, Judas Priest found themselves in a literal fight for their career. The 1990 courtroom battle they faced is the most serious legal challenge ever brought against a band for supposed backmasking—a case that might have rewritten music history had it gone the other way.

Judas Priest backmasking controversy

It all started with a tragedy. On a winter night in 1985, two troubled young men—Raymond Belknap (18) and James Vance (20)—made a suicide pact after spending six hours drinking, smoking marijuana, and blasting Judas Priest's music. They headed to a church playground where Belknap turned a shotgun on himself and died instantly. Vance attempted the same but survived with horrific facial injuries, only to die three years later from complications.

The easy thing would have been to see this as a heartbreaking story about youth, substance abuse and mental health issues. Instead, the families' lawyers took aim at Judas Priest's 1978 album Stained Class, claiming hidden messages had pushed the boys toward self-destruction.

The infamous 'Do it' message

The case zeroed in on the band's cover of "Better by You, Better than Me," which supposedly contained subliminal commands like:

"Do it, do it, do it" (allegedly encouraging suicide)

"Try suicide"

"Let's be dead"

Vance himself seemed to buy into this theory, writing to Belknap's mother: "I believe that alcohol and heavy-metal music such as Judas Priest led us to be mesmerised". It's easy to see how grief might make someone grasp at explanations, however unlikely.

Legal consequences and court case

The band spent a staggering £198,540 (nearly their entire touring profit) defending themselves during the three-week trial. What made this case particularly dangerous wasn't just the tragic circumstances—it was Judge Jerry Carr Whitehead's pre-trial ruling that subliminal messages weren't protected as free speech under the First Amendment. This opened a door that could have changed music forever.

The trial veered into the absurd at times. Rob Halford had to perform "Better by You, Better than Me" a cappella in front of the court. The band's defence team demonstrated you could find backwards messages anywhere if you tried hard enough—even pulling the phrase "I gave her a peppermint" from a Frank Sinatra record.

In the end, the judge dismissed the case but not without some troubling implications. He acknowledged sounds resembling "do it" existed but ruled they "were only discernible after their location had been identified and after the sounds were isolated and amplified". Moreover, these sounds "would not be consciously discernible to the ordinary listener under normal listening conditions".

Halford later made the most obvious point of all: "What performer wants his audience dead?". It's a question that cuts through the noise and gets to the heart of how ridiculous the accusation truly was.

The Beatles – Revolution 9

Image Source: Sweetwater

The "Paul is dead" rumour stands as one of rock's most delicious urban legends, and it all kicked off with a late-night call to a Detroit radio station in 1969. What happened next shows how easily a random observation can spiral into full-blown cultural mythology.

Revolution 9 backmasking message

The whole madness centred around "Revolution 9," that wonderfully bizarre sound collage from the White Album where a monotonous voice repeatedly drones "number nine, number nine." Some bright spark at university decided to spin the record backwards and—lo and behold—it seemed to say "turn me on, dead man". Suddenly, everyone with a turntable was hunched over their vinyl, listening for ghostly messages from beyond.

Unlike later controversies, the Beatles hadn't intentionally buried anything in the backwards audio. They'd played with backmasking before—most notably on "Rain" from 1966—but "Revolution 9" was different. This wasn't the band sending secret signals; this was fans desperately searching for meaning and finding exactly what they wanted to hear. Our ears are funny like that.

The 'Paul is dead' conspiracy

The ball got rolling on 17 September 1969, when the Drake University student newspaper ran the headline "Is Beatle Paul McCartney Dead?". Shortly after, a listener phoned WKNR-FM DJ Russ Gibb with an extraordinary claim: Paul had died in a 1966 car crash and been replaced by a lookalike. (Because finding a perfect McCartney double who could also write "Hey Jude" was easier than admitting he was still alive.)

The theory snowballed into an avalanche of "evidence":

Paul supposedly died in a car crash on 9 November 1966

John allegedly mutters "I buried Paul" at the end of "Strawberry Fields Forever" (though he later insisted it was "cranberry sauce")

Playing "I'm So Tired" backwards supposedly revealed the phrase "Paul is dead man, miss him, miss him"

Fans pored over album covers like medieval scholars interpreting religious texts. The Abbey Road cover? A funeral procession with John as priest, Ringo as undertaker, barefoot Paul as corpse, and George as gravedigger. That "OPD" patch on Paul's Sgt. Pepper uniform? Meant "Officially Pronounced Dead". The imagination runs wild when you're looking for conspiracies.

Cultural impact of Beatles' backmasking

The Beatles' initial response was classic British understatement. Their press office dismissed it as "a load of old rubbish", while Lennon called it "insane" before acknowledging it made for "good publicity". McCartney himself stayed quiet on his Scottish farm, later quipping to Rolling Stone: "It'll probably be the best publicity we've ever had, and I won't have to do a thing except stay alive".

Interestingly, the band eventually embraced the whole backmasking phenomenon. When they recorded "Free as a Bird" in 1995, they deliberately tucked in a backwards message of Lennon saying "turned out nice again"—a knowing wink to their more conspiracy-minded fans.

The "Paul is dead" theory did more than just sell magazines—it fundamentally changed how audiences interact with music. Suddenly, listeners weren't just passive consumers but active investigators, dissecting albums for hidden meaning. That relationship between artist and audience has never been the same since, for better or worse. Not bad for a rumour that started with a backwards record and a vivid imagination.

Pink Floyd – Empty Spaces

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Pink Floyd always seemed to exist on a different plane than their rock contemporaries. While others were getting tangled up in satanic panic and moral outrage, the Floyd lads decided to have a bit of fun with the whole backmasking phenomenon sweeping through rock music in the late 1970s.

Empty Spaces Hidden Message

Buried about 1 minute and 12 seconds into "Empty Spaces" from their 1979 masterpiece The Wall, keen-eared fans discovered something rather delightful. When that mechanical-sounding intro gets flipped backwards, a perfectly clear voice emerges: "Congratulations. You have just discovered the secret message. Please send your answer to Old Pink, care of the funny farm, Chalfont...". Before the mysterious location can be revealed, another voice cuts in: "Roger! Carolyne's on the phone!" followed by a resigned "Okay".

Roger Waters' cryptic backmasking

This wasn't some happy accident – Waters deliberately planted this little Easter egg. Floyd drummer Nick Mason spilt the beans in a 2014 interview, explaining they added the message because "At the time, people were always looking for messages in albums. So we thought: 'Oh, well. We better do one'". When pressed about any deeper significance, Mason just laughed it off: "It's complete nonsense".

The charm of this particular backwards message lies partly in its authenticity. That interruption wasn't scripted – it was producer James Guthrie breaking into the recording session to let Waters know his then-wife Carolyne was on the telephone. They kept this slice of everyday life in the final recording, which somehow makes the whole thing feel more genuine than the forced backmasking attempts of other bands.

Connexion to Syd Barrett

Despite Mason's dismissal, Floyd fanatics and music historians have spent decades connecting dots between "Old Pink" and former frontman Syd Barrett, who famously departed the band after a mental breakdown in 1968. The "funny farm" bit seems a thinly veiled reference to a psychiatric hospital, nodding to Barrett's well-documented struggles with mental health.

Waters himself has maintained a sphinx-like silence on whether this interpretation hits the mark, allowing the mystery to simmer for over forty years. That's the genius of it, really – by neither confirming nor denying, Waters created perhaps rock's most self-aware example of backmasking. While other bands were being accused of devil worship, Pink Floyd crafted a clever in-joke that simultaneously parodied and celebrated the very concept of hidden messages. Brilliant, when you think about it.

Slayer – Hell Awaits

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While Pink Floyd used backmasking for a bit of a laugh, Slayer cranked the dial to eleven and created what might be the most deliberately sinister reversed message in heavy metal history. No accidents or misinterpretations here — these thrash legends knew exactly what they were doing.

Hell Awaits intro backmasking

Drop the needle on Slayer's 1985 album and you're immediately thrust into a minute of unsettling sonic murk. Play that intro backwards, though, and something truly chilling emerges — a demonic voice repeating "Join us" a whopping 45 times, building in volume like a gathering horde until it culminates with an ominous "Welcome back". It's like being greeted at hell's reception desk before the thrash metal assault properly kicks in.

Unlike Led Zeppelin or The Beatles, who dismissed backmasking claims, Slayer proudly owned their sinister audio trick. The lads huddled around a single microphone to create this effect, showing they weren't just jumping on the backmasking bandwagon — they were driving it straight off a cliff into the fiery abyss.

Satanic themes in Slayer's music

The "Join us" chant wasn't just shock tactics — it harmonised perfectly with the album's occult themes. Legends of Rock Guitar described the record as "a psychotic exploration into the depths of Satanism and physical torture", which pretty much tells you what you're in for when dropping this platter on your turntable.

Slayer's early aesthetic was a full embrace of occult imagery, featuring:

Pentagrams plastered everywhere

Inverted crosses that would make a priest faint

Enough spikes and makeup to stock a Halloween shop

The funny thing is, when pushed about their actual beliefs, the band members gave mixed signals. Kerry King, despite penning lyrics that would make Lucifer blush, identified as an atheist rather than a Satanist. He simply claimed he "writes the best satanic lyrics on the planet". It's like a horror film director insisting they just enjoy a good scare rather than worshipping monsters.

Fan interpretations of Slayer's backmasking

For Slayer's devoted followers, the backmasking in "Hell Awaits" wasn't some hidden message to decode — it was part of the full-throttle experience. One Reddit fan described the intro as "very sinister," while others went further, calling it "pure horror" and "evil". High praise indeed for a band whose merchandise parents confiscated by the truckload.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect (or more deliberate). While Judas Priest was desperately defending themselves against backmasking accusations in court, Slayer was practically sending Satan an engraved invitation. Rather than shy away from the moral panic, they leaned into it like a band diving into a mosh pit, cementing their reputation as metal's most unapologetically extreme act.

Phil Anselmo of Pantera summed it up best, declaring that "Hell Awaits just holds the entire thing. Every bit of everything to do with heavy music". By boldly embracing what other bands ran from, Slayer turned backmasking from a controversial technique into a legitimate artistic tool that helped establish their legendary status in metal's blood-soaked pantheon.

Prince – Darling Nikki

Image Source: Boing Boing

Is this song genius or gibberish? While everyone else was busy denying satanic messages in their music, Prince pulled perhaps the greatest backmasking switcheroo in pop history—hiding an explicitly Christian message inside one of his most sexually provocative songs. The irony is delicious.

Darling Nikki's religious backmasking

Tucked away at the end of "Darling Nikki" from Prince's 1984 masterpiece "Purple Rain," there's a bizarre-sounding choral bit that seems like random gibberish. But spin that vinyl backwards and you'll hear something completely unexpected:

"Hello, how are you? I'm fine, 'cause I know that the Lord is coming soon, coming, coming soon. Ha ha ha ha ha ha"

This isn't some vague, easily misinterpreted phonetic accident like Zeppelin's supposed satanic murmurings. Prince deliberately recorded this crystal-clear proclamation of Christian faith. You can only hear it by physically playing the record backwards, using the very technique that was causing parents and preachers across America to burn rock records by the boxload.

Contrast between lyrics and hidden message

The song itself? It's about meeting a woman masturbating in a hotel lobby—graphic enough to make Tipper Gore clutch her pearls and launch the Parents Music Resource Centre, which eventually gave us those black-and-white "Parental Advisory" stickers plastered across album covers.

So on one side, you've got Prince singing about a "sex fiend" who'll "grind" till morning comes, and on the other, a hidden message about the Lord's return. It's like finding a prayer book hidden inside a copy of Hustler magazine. This perfectly encapsulates Prince's complex artistic identity—a man who saw no contradiction between sexuality and spirituality. As one writer put it, Prince "saw the sexual impulse as being analogous to the longing to become closer to God". That's a theological discussion most churches aren't quite ready for, I'd wager.

Prince's use of spiritual themes

"Darling Nikki" wasn't Prince's only experiment with reversed messages, either. If you've got too much time on your hands and a backwards-playing turntable, you might discover "Can you relate" repeated backwards in "Controversy" or "Love Is Here" hiding in "Paisley Park".

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just as Christian groups were working themselves into a lather about satanic backwards messages corrupting youth, Prince—the very artist they were condemning for explicit lyrics—was secretly embedding Bible-worthy proclamations in his music. It's like finding out the bad boy your parents warned you about spends his weekends volunteering at a retirement home.

This apparent contradiction made perfect sense within Prince's spiritual journey. Though he'd later become a Jehovah's Witness, his earlier work already contained these spiritual elements tucked between the funk and the filth. As musician David Thomas observed, "What I found in Prince's music is sort of a duality... there are times when he is speaking profoundly Christian messages in some songs, and there are some times when he's not". That complexity is what made him not just a musical genius, but a genuinely fascinating artist who never quite fit into anyone's neat little box, forwards or backwards.

Soundgarden – 665

Image Source: Far Out Magazine

While Slayer was gleefully embracing devilish backmasking and Judas Priest was fighting lawsuits, Seattle's grunge pioneers Soundgarden took a decidedly different approach to the Satanic panic – they turned the whole thing into a brilliant joke.

Soundgarden's parody of satanic backmasking

On their 1988 debut, Ultramega OK, Soundgarden crafted what might be rock's greatest satanic backmasking parody. The track's title, "665," sits cheekily one digit shy of the dreaded number of the beast – a numerical wink that telegraphs the band's tongue-in-cheek intentions right from the start. Bassist Hiro Yamamoto penned this little gem specifically to mock the ridiculous satanic accusations flying around at the time.

While religious groups were busy burning records and politicians were holding hearings, Soundgarden essentially said "Are you serious with this nonsense?" Their position couldn't have been clearer – they found the whole association between rock music and black magic utterly "ridiculous". This was the height of the satanic panic, when bands like Judas Priest and Led Zeppelin were being dragged through the mud for supposed demonic messages.

Santa vs Satan in 665

But here's where Soundgarden's genius shines through. When you spin "665" backwards (as all good moral panic enthusiasts were doing with their records), you don't hear diabolical commands or praise for the Dark Lord. Instead, Chris Cornell's voice cheerfully proclaims:

"Santa, I love you baby. My Christmas king. Santa, you're my king. I love you, Santa baby. Got what I need".

I mean, come on! While everyone was hunting for Satan, Soundgarden gave them Santa Claus instead. It's the most brilliantly subversive bit of wordplay in rock history – taking the very phonetic similarity that fueled so many backmasking panics and turning it into a Christmas card. What's more wholesome than Santa?

Humour in backmasking messages

"665" perfectly showcases the wry, sardonic humour lurking beneath Soundgarden's angsty exterior. For a band often characterised as brooding and serious, this track revealed their playful intelligence. They weren't just making music – they were commenting on the absurdity of the entire moral panic surrounding rock music.

The irony, of course, is that their silly Christmas message probably did more to expose the ridiculousness of satanic backmasking fears than all the serious denials other bands were issuing. While everyone else was desperately trying to prove they weren't devil worshippers, Soundgarden simply made the whole thing look as absurd as it truly was.

What's cleverer than fighting moral panic with mockery? Soundgarden didn't just avoid the satanic backmasking controversy – they skewered it with a candy cane.

Marilyn Manson – Revelation #9

Image Source: The Daily Hatch

If Soundgarden mocked the backmasking panic with a Christmas joke, Marilyn Manson took the opposite approach—diving headfirst into the controversy with a track that seemed designed to confirm parents' worst nightmares. "Revelation #9," released as a B-side to his 1994 single "Get Your Gunn," remains the longest track in Manson's entire catalogue, giving him plenty of sonic real estate to play with reversed messages.

Revelation #9 backmasking message

Unlike the accidental patterns in Led Zeppelin's work or Prince's hidden Christian message, Manson packed this soundscape with deliberate backwards content. His keyboardist, the brilliantly named Madonna Wayne Gacy, spilt the beans in a 1995 interview, revealing the track contains "13 exact tracks... in which at least 6 are reversed". Listen carefully and you'll hear the most unsettling warning: "You are on the other side now... there ain't no going back".

The most jarring bit? Manson included the children's hymn "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world" played backwards. This wasn't random—the juxtaposition of innocent children's music with darker elements was pure Manson, a deliberate mixing of the sacred and profane that characterised his entire aesthetic.

Apocalyptic themes in Manson's music

The title itself tips its hat to The Beatles' "Revolution 9"—the very track that spawned the "Paul is dead" conspiracy—but Manson twisted it toward something decidedly more apocalyptic. This Biblical reference wasn't just shock for shock's sake; it connected to Manson's broader artistic vision, especially evident in his later album "Antichrist Superstar," which aimed to expose what he saw as fascistic elements in both conservative politics and religious institutions.

Throughout "Revelation #9," listeners encounter ominous phrases like "don't tell your momma that I brought you here" and the spine-chilling "you're on the other side now." These bits create a sense of forbidden knowledge—you're hearing something you're not supposed to hear.

Public controversy and interpretation

The timing couldn't have been more perfect for maximum outrage. "Revelation #9" dropped right when the "Satanic Panic" was reaching its fever pitch around 1990. Manson wasn't just using backmasking—he was commenting on the very moral panic surrounding it.

His concerts became lightning rods for protests, with unfounded affidavits claiming all sorts of nonsense about satanic rituals and animal sacrifices happening on stage. Yet those paying closer attention recognised Manson was critiquing "the way the media glamourises violence" rather than promoting it.

Manson's use of backmasking wasn't merely provocation—it was a mirror held up to America's fears. The real shock value wasn't in the backwards messages themselves, but in how readily people believed the worst about music they didn't understand. By deliberately playing the villain in America's moral panic narrative, Manson exposed the absurdity of it all far more effectively than any straightforward denial could have done.

The Mars Volta – Eunuch Provocateur

Image Source: Listverse

While other bands dabbled in backmasking for shock or humour, prog-rock experimentalists The Mars Volta elevated the technique to high art, transforming an innocent nursery rhyme into something utterly unsettling on their 2002 debut EP Tremulant.

Mars Volta's cryptic backmasking

If you've ever fallen down the Mars Volta rabbit hole, you know their music demands active listening rather than passive consumption. Their track "Eunuch Provocateur" perfectly demonstrates this approach. Around the 5:30 mark, the composition takes a sharp left turn into echoing percussion and ghostly guitar phrases. What seems like random gibberish actually unfolds into something meticulously constructed when played backwards. It's classic Mars Volta—creating sonic puzzles that beg to be solved, like musical escape rooms where the walls constantly shift around you.

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala formed this outfit after their previous band, At The Drive-In, imploded, quickly establishing themselves as proper mad scientists of musical complexity. Their Tremulant EP served as their calling card—described by one critic as "a glorious mix of prog/jazz fusion, breakbeats, backwards masking and hints of thrusting, Zeppelin-esque riffs". That's rather like saying a hurricane is "a bit breezy," but you get the idea.

Children's songs and eerie samples

Here's where things get properly weird. Play that cryptic section backwards and what emerges? The bloody lyrics to "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". The completely reversed message goes:

"I'm very fond of this one about an old spider friend of mine"

"The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout / down came the rain and washed the spider out / out came the sun and dried up all the rain / and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again"

As if that weren't disturbing enough, another backwards bit asks the listener: "Have mommy or daddy ever had to spank you?". It's like finding a blood-stained teddy bear in an abandoned hospital—the innocent childhood object made sinister through context.

According to band sources, these samples came from "an old LP the band used that contained children's songs". The juxtaposition creates a brilliantly jarring effect—like hearing a nursery rhyme playing from an ice cream van at 3 AM. It's the musical equivalent of those Victorian-era photographs where children look slightly dead-eyed and ghostly due to the long exposure times.

Fan theories and decoding efforts

The Mars Volta's devoted fanbase—a right scholarly bunch they are—have spent countless hours decoding not just this backwards message but dozens of others scattered throughout the band's catalogue. Reddit threads overflow with listeners discussing the "disturbing" quality of the reversed children's song, especially considering its placement within such an intricate sonic labyrinth.

This marriage of childhood innocence and experimental psychedelia became something of a signature for The Mars Volta. Their approach to backmasking wasn't about hidden satanic messages or clever jokes—it was another layer in their multi-dimensional compositions, challenging listeners both intellectually and emotionally. Like finding a secret room in an already complex mansion, these hidden elements reward the most attentive and dedicated listeners with another piece of the artistic puzzle.

Jay-Z / Dangermouse – Lucifer 9

Image Source: Listverse

The backmasking story of "Lucifer 9" stands as hip-hop's most fascinatingly misunderstood example—a case of mistaken identity that's rather like blaming Paul McCartney for something Weird Al did to his music. Though widely attributed to Jay-Z, this controversial track was created by producer Danger Mouse for his unauthorised 2004 mash-up project The Grey Album.

Lucifer 9 backmasking message

Spin this track backwards and you'll supposedly hear "666 murder murder Jesus 666" cutting through what's otherwise gibberish when played properly. Religious groups nearly had a collective heart attack when this made the rounds. The critical mistake in their pearl-clutching? Jay-Z never actually created this bit of backmasking mischief—it wasn't even on his original album.

This track appears as an interlude on Danger Mouse's brilliant cultural collision, where he smashed together Jay-Z's The Black Album vocals with instrumentals from The Beatles' White Album. The producer specifically sampled Jay's original "Lucifer" track and layered it over—wait for it—The Beatles' "Revolution 9," the very same track central to the "Paul is dead" conspiracy we discussed earlier. It's like backmasking inception, this.

Jay-Z and Illuminati rumours

The backwards devilry only fuelled the already raging bonfire of conspiracy theories connecting Jay-Z to the Illuminati—that shadowy cabal supposedly pulling the world's strings from behind velvet curtains. Throughout his career, the rapper has faced endless accusations about hidden symbolism, with conspiracists pointing to his Roc Nation hand sign forming a triangle that supposedly represents Illuminati imagery. (Though if secret societies advertised themselves this openly, they'd be rubbish at the whole "secret" bit, wouldn't they?)

Jay-Z's response has typically been one of amused exasperation. He even addressed these theories directly in "Heaven" with the lyrics "Conspiracy theorists screaming Illuminati." The irony is that while he does embed layers of meaning in his lyrics, they're creative Easter eggs rather than calls to a new world order. As he once explained, fans "might not get it ever. Or you might get it five years later"—a proper artist's approach to depth rather than a cultist's secret code.

Mashup origins and controversy

The Grey Album properly kicked the hornet's nest when EMI sent cease-and-desist orders to Danger Mouse. In a brilliant stroke of corporate PR backfiring, this legal strong-arming transformed what might have been a niche project into "a symbol for the burgeoning online remix culture." Digital activists rallied to the cause, launching "Grey Tuesday" where websites deliberately hosted the album in protest. The controversy elevated both the album and its backmasked bits to legendary status.

John Stewart, who gave the album a sonic tune-up in 2012, maintained he wasn't "trying to profit off it" but merely gave an existing free download "a makeover." This entire saga perfectly captured the chaotic intersection of sampling culture, copyright law, and moral panic—all whipped together in a cauldron of backmasking paranoia that had absolutely nothing to do with Jay-Z's original intentions.

Iron Maiden – Still Life

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When religious zealots started burning Iron Maiden records and accusing them of devil worship, the British metal legends responded with what might be the most brilliantly sarcastic use of backmasking in heavy metal. Rather than deny the accusations, they decided to give the moral panic crowd exactly what they were looking for—well, sort of.

Still Life backmasking intro

Between "The Trooper" and "Still Life" on their 1983 album Piece of Mind, Maiden deliberately tucked away a backwards message that could only be heard by spinning the record in reverse. This wasn't some accidental phonetic coincidence—it was a calculated middle finger to the growing chorus of accusations, particularly from American religious groups who were busy turning their previous album Number of the Beast into bonfires.

Drummer Nicko McBrain didn't mince words about their motivation: "We were sick and tired of being labelled as Devil worshippers and all this bollocks by these fucking morons in the States, so we thought, 'Right, you want to take the piss? We'll show you how to take the bleeding piss, my son!'" Leave it to the Brits to respond to moral outrage with magnificent sarcasm.

Nicko McBrain's hidden speech

So what devilish incantation did the band hide for America's concerned parents to discover? Nothing of the sort. The backwards message features McBrain doing his best impression of comedian John Bird's take on Ugandan dictator Idi Amin. When played in reverse, it says: "What ho said the t'ing with the three 'bonce', don't meddle with things you don't understand," followed by—rather fittingly—a belch.

For those struggling with McBrain's peculiar phrasing, it roughly translates to "What ho said the monster with the three heads, don't meddle with things you don't understand". It's essentially telling the record-flippers to mind their own business—a deliciously direct admonition to those frantically searching their vinyl collection for signs of Satan.

Iron Maiden's response to Satanism claims

While religious groups portrayed Maiden as Satan's house band, the reality couldn't have been more mundane. These supposed agents of darkness spent their downtime playing football and drinking tea. Bassist Steve Harris found the whole situation "hilarious", while the band's deliberate inclusion of such an obvious joke message showed they weren't about to lose sleep over the accusations.

Guitarist Adrian Smith summed it up perfectly in an interview: "If people are stupid enough to believe we worship the devil, they'll believe anything." Rather than get dragged into a serious theological debate, Maiden chose the path of mockery, letting their music and wicked sense of humour speak for itself.

I've always thought Maiden's approach was bloody brilliant. Rather than issuing earnest denials or ignoring the controversy, they weaponised the very technique they were accused of misusing. It's like being accused of writing secret messages and responding with a very public note saying, "This isn't the secret message you're looking for." The entire affair showed that behind the skull-adorned album covers and Eddie mascot lurked sharp minds with an even sharper sense of humour.

Deep Purple – Stormbringer

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The 1973 horror film The Exorcist didn't just terrify cinema audiences—it inspired one of rock's most profane examples of backmasking, buried within Deep Purple's thunderous 1974 title track "Stormbringer".

Stormbringer backmasking message

While other bands were busy denying the existence of backwards messages in their music, Deep Purple took a decidedly different approach—they deliberately planted some proper filth in their track. Spin "Stormbringer" backwards and you'll supposedly hear the charming phrase "C--ksucker, motherf--er, stormbringer!" Given the technical limitations of mid-70s recording equipment, this colourful message was "buried so deep in the mix that you really have to make the effort to hear it". It's rather like finding a rude message scribbled inside a library book—you've got to be really looking for it.

Glenn Hughes, Deep Purple's bassist during this period, later revealed the backmasking came about after the band attended a private screening of The Exorcist. According to Hughes, the backwards dialogue directly mimics Linda Blair's possessed character in the film. Makes sense, doesn't it? If you've just watched a film where a young girl's head spins round while she spouts obscenities, heading straight to the studio to create your own backwards profanity seems the natural response.

Controversial lyrics and interpretation

Beyond the backwards naughtiness, "Stormbringer" itself has sparked multiple interpretations over the decades. David Coverdale, the band's vocalist, explained in a 1974 chat with New Musical Express: "I wrote the lyrics about a mythical creature called Stormbringer who, in a surrealistic story, creates a lot of trouble".

Here's where it gets properly interesting—Coverdale initially claimed he hadn't been inspired by Michael Moorcock's science fiction works, where "Stormbringer" appears as a sentient sword introduced in his 1963 novel The Stealer Of Souls. Yet after another band member pointed out the similarity, Coverdale discovered he actually had Moorcock's books in his own collection! (Ever bought a book and forgotten you owned it? Rock stars—they're just like us.)

Over the years, fans have developed their own takes on the lyrics—some see them as representing "a defiant person who dares to ridicule the general standards, one who's bringing a 'storm' of rebellion". It's amazing how many different meanings we can extract from the same set of words, isn't it?

Fan reactions to Deep Purple's message

What's fascinating is how modern fans react to the backmasking revelation. On online forums, the discovery typically produces amusement rather than the pearl-clutching outrage it might have sparked in the 1970s. One fan commented: "Did Anyone Know That Stormbringer Was Intentionally Backmasked?? [...] Just another random useless piece of knowledge".

"Stormbringer" stands as a brilliant example of deliberate backmasking as artistic provocation rather than subliminal manipulation. While religious groups were busy burning records they suspected might contain hidden messages, Deep Purple just went ahead and put one in—and not a subtle one at that. It's a bit like responding to a noise complaint by throwing a proper party. Deep Purple essentially said, "You want backwards messages? We'll give you one you won't forget!"

Cradle of Filth – Dinner at Deviant's Palace

Image Source: Pop & Rock Bands

If Deep Purple buried profanity in their backwards messages, British extreme metal outfit Cradle of Filth practically wrote the book on blasphemous backmasking with their 1996 EP "Dinner at Deviant's Palace." While other bands merely flirted with controversy, these black-clad merchants of the macabre dove headfirst into deliberately offensive territory.

Backwards Lord's Prayer in Cradle of Filth

Most bands we've looked at either accidentally created backwards messages or used them for artistic or comedic effect. Cradle of Filth? They went straight for the jugular of Christian sensibilities by reversing the Lord's Prayer in their track "The Black Goddess Rises." Vocalist Dani Filth—a name his mum definitely didn't give him—recorded himself reciting the prayer backwards, then reversed the recording to create something truly unsettling. The result? Listeners hear the sacred prayer in its proper sequence but delivered with distorted, demonic vocal qualities. It's like finding a pentagram carved into a church pew—deliberately provocative and impossible to ignore.

Occult themes and public backlash

The band's backmasking exploits were just one weapon in their arsenal of religious controversy. Their entire aesthetic drew heavily from Aleister Crowley's occult writings and various pagan traditions. Remember those "Parental Advisory" stickers that Prince helped create? They weren't quite enough for Cradle of Filth merch. Their t-shirts featuring the slogan "Jesus is a C***" landed people in actual legal trouble—numerous fans were arrested in the UK for public indecency just for wearing them.

Unlike Led Zeppelin who frantically denied any satanic leanings, Cradle of Filth wore their anti-religious stance like a badge of honour. Dani Filth summed up their position rather succinctly in an interview: "We're not preaching Satanism, Satanism preaches us." That's not exactly the sort of quote you'd put on your church newsletter, is it? This brazen attitude earned them both devoted followers and the kind of outrage that most publicity departments can only dream about.

Symbolism in the reversed message

For Cradle of Filth, backmasking wasn't some studio accident or playful joke—it was a deliberate inversion of religious symbolism. While Led Zeppelin's supposed backmasking sparked moral panic despite being unintentional, Cradle of Filth purposefully crafted these reversals as explicit anti-Christian statements.

The symbolic reversal of prayer goes deeper than mere shock tactics. It represents the band's philosophical rejection of traditional religious power structures. It's like turning a crucifix upside down—the symbolism speaks volumes about their artistic intent. Given the technical limitations of 1990s recording equipment, the clarity of their backwards messaging demonstrated impressive audio engineering alongside their provocative artistic vision.

Whether you find their approach offensive, brilliant, or somewhere in between, there's no denying Cradle of Filth knew exactly what they were doing. In a world of accidental backmasking and misheard phonetics, they stood out by making their reversed messages as blatant as a bat flying through Sunday mass.

Electric Light Orchestra – Fire on High

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While Cradle of Filth embraced pure blasphemy, Electric Light Orchestra took a rather different approach, turning accusations of satanic backmasking into brilliant musical comedy with "Fire on High." The result might just be the most cleverly self-aware hidden message in rock history.

Fire on High backmasking warning

It all started when religious groups accused ELO of hiding devilish messages in their 1974 album Eldorado. Rather than issue the usual denials, the lads responded with a cheeky bit of deliberate backmasking on "Fire on High" from their follow-up album Face the Music. In that ominous, swirling introduction, drummer Bev Bevan recorded a message that, when played backwards, clearly announces: "The music is reversible, but time is not. Turn back! Turn back! Turn back! Turn back!"

Bloody brilliant, that. The message works on two levels—it's both a clever joke and a practical admonition, essentially telling all those record-flipping devil hunters to stop wasting their time looking for hidden messages and just enjoy the music properly. ELO acknowledged the whole backmasking kerfuffle through the very technique causing all the fuss. It's like responding to someone accusing you of speaking in code by literally speaking in code to tell them you're not speaking in code.

ELO's satirical response to controversy

Jeff Lynne, ELO's Brummie mastermind, dismissed the original satanic allegations as "skcollob" (that's "bollocks" spelled backwards, if you hadn't worked it out). Yet these daft accusations sparked his creative mischief. The irony is delicious—in their effort to mock supposed associations with the devil, ELO created some of their most sinister-sounding music, with those classically-trained string players producing genuinely unsettling sounds.

The band's backwards warning essentially told listeners: "What are you scared of? It's just music". This perfectly captured Lynne's dry Birmingham sense of humour—taking the mick out of those making absurd accusations against a band whose most threatening act was combining classical music with pop rock. Not exactly Black Sabbath, were they?

Hidden messages in ELO albums

Having so much fun with the concept, the band went all in with their 1983 album, cheekily titled Secret Messages, their second artistic response to the backmasking nonsense. This record was absolutely riddled with hidden bits and bobs, including:

"Welcome to the show" (backmasked at the album's opening)

"Thank you for listening"

"Look out, there's danger ahead"

The letters E-L-O are cleverly spelt out in Morse code

The British release even featured a sticker declaring "Warning! Contains secret backwards messages!"—though they removed this from the American version to avoid further winding up the Christian right. It's telling that while American religious groups were burning records, British musicians were responding with humour rather than outrage.

ELO's approach to backmasking controversy shows how the best response to absurdity is often more absurdity. Rather than getting defensive, they simply turned the whole thing into art, and rather good art at that. "Fire on High" remains one of their most impressive instrumental pieces, backwards message and all.

Weird Al Yankovic – I Remember Larry

Image Source: YouTube

While ELO responded to backmasking hysteria with clever wordplay, America's premier musical satirist took things one step further. Weird Al Yankovic didn't just parody musical styles—he brilliantly took the mickey out of the entire backmasking panic that had American parents clutching their pearls throughout the 1980s and 1990s.

Weird Al's humorous backmasking

Al first poked fun at backmasking hysteria with his 1983 horror movie spoof "Nature Trail to Hell," where he hid the magnificently daft message "Satan eats Cheez Whiz" when played backwards. Only Weird Al could make the Prince of Darkness sound like he shops at the processed cheese section of the supermarket. This established his playful approach to what some considered a grave moral threat.

As the backmasking panic thundered on, Yankovic doubled down with an even more pointed hidden message in his 1996 track "I Remember Larry" from the album Bad Hair Day. The song itself—a style parody of Hilly Michaels about a neighbourhood prankster—seems innocent enough. But around 3:15, dedicated listeners who bother to reverse the track hear Yankovic plainly stating: "Wow, you must have an awful lot of free time on your hands!". I've always thought this was the perfect punchline to the whole backmasking kerfuffle.

Message to obsessive fans

What makes this backwards message so brilliant is how it directly addresses the very fans dedicated enough to go hunting for hidden content, gently mocking their obsession whilst simultaneously rewarding it. It's like finding an Easter egg that makes fun of you for looking for Easter eggs.

Throughout his career, Yankovic has maintained this sort of playful relationship with his audience, frequently tucking away little jokes and references for the especially devoted to discover. The "I Remember Larry" message cleverly critiques what we'd now call "stan culture"—those obsessive fans who analyse every breath, cough, and sneeze in an artist's work. By acknowledging listeners who would "go out of their way to hear the backwards message," Yankovic creates a brilliant bit of meta-commentary on fandom itself. "Yes, I've hidden something—and it's making fun of you for finding it."

Satire of backmasking culture

Beyond the obvious humour, Yankovic's approach represents a quite thoughtful satire of the moral panic surrounding backmasking and subliminal messages. By placing obviously silly content in his songs, he highlights the absurdity of accusations that popular musicians were somehow embedding sinister commands in their recordings.

Think about it—if musicians could control listeners' behaviour through backwards messages, wouldn't they just make everyone buy more albums rather than worship Satan? Weird Al's practical joke joined other artistic responses like Soundgarden's Santa-themed parody and Petra's explicitly Christian backmasking in defusing tensions around one of music's most controversial techniques.

The beauty of Al's approach is that it didn't attack anyone directly—it simply held up a mirror to the absurdity of it all. Whether you were an overzealous parent worried about satanic influence or an equally obsessive fan hunting for hidden messages, his backwards quip gently ribbed you while making you laugh at yourself. That's the mark of truly great satire, isn't it?

Conclusion

What a strange journey through the looking glass of reversed music we've had, eh? Backmasking started as the boogeyman of concerned parents and ended up as just another toy in musicians' creative playgrounds. The transformation is rather remarkable when you think about it.

The responses to accusations varied wildly across the musical spectrum. While Judas Priest was dragged through courtrooms defending themselves against tragic suicide claims, other artists took radically different approaches. Electric Light Orchestra turned the whole thing into a brilliant joke with their "time is not reversible" warning. Weird Al simply called out his backwards-message-hunting fans for having too much free time. Pink Floyd buried congratulations to attentive listeners, while Prince hid literal prayers behind explicit lyrics about hotel lobby masturbation.

What fascinates me most is how backmasking served as a perfect mirror of its era. In the paranoid 1970s and 80s, it reflected cultural fears about hidden influences corrupting youth. By the 90s, it had morphed into deliberate artistic expression with bands like Slayer embracing the technique to enhance their demonic aesthetic. Today's digital tools have democratised the whole process—any bedroom producer with a laptop can reverse their vocals with a single mouse click.

The humble backwards message, whether accidental or intentional, teaches us something important about how we consume art. Led Zeppelin never intended to praise Satan, yet thousands heard precisely that when they went looking for it. Our brains love finding patterns, even when they're not there. These sonic Rorschach tests say more about the listener than the artist.

Perhaps the most telling aspect of the whole backmasking saga is how rarely it accomplished what fearmongers claimed. Despite countless warnings about subliminal corruption, not a single confirmed case exists of someone being unconsciously influenced by reversed audio. If musicians truly possessed such mind-control powers, they'd surely use them for something more practical than devil worship—like getting people to buy more records or stream their latest single.

After nearly sixty years of controversy, backmasking has earned its place as one of music's most peculiar chapters. From moral panic to creative technique, from courtroom evidence to inside joke—it's a fascinating tale of how art and audience interpretation dance together in unexpected ways.

So go on, dust off those vinyl records, spin them backwards, and see what messages you discover. Just remember—if you hear something sinister, it might be saying more about you than the music itself.