Evilluke is the Reanimator Overlord that originally founded the Reanimator night along with Dr Nick and Charlotte.
	El Povemachine - a sinister, shadowy figure, and renowned King of "teh Beer Bong".
	Bestial Bill - Reanimator's own salty seaman. "You have a woman's hand..."

Reanimator first lurched into the light in early 2005, born out of frustration with the lack of a decent extreme Metal night in Birmingham following the demise of the legendary Bilskirnir.

The loathsome creation of Dr Nick, Evilluke and Charlotte, it started life as a DJ night in a wine bar mixing extreme music of all styles with gore movies and cheap beer.

The current Reanimator monster was conceived and given life by the twisted minds of Nekro Tom (webmaster) and the team above. We aim to give a monthly fix of Metal by bringing you some of the best underground bands in the scene.

If you're at one of our shows and think it rocks, or think it sucks, or have any ideas, or just want to say hi and buy us a pint, please do.

The oldest of the Reanimator team (edit: by far...), Evilluke once rode at the right hand of Thoth-Amon, most terrible of all the priests of ancient Stygia, crushing all enemies of that foul civilization under his steel shod feet. Killed by a Bossonian arrow in the battle at Hyperborea, his mummified remains were interred deep beneath the earth where men fear to tread and awful things slither and skitter in the darkness.

Reanimated in the mid (17)70s by a cabal of sinister cultists dedicated to the restoration of the blood slick days of yore who hoped to control him to their own dark ends, a bungled mix-up with spell ingredients meant that instead of an all conquering superman they instead resurrected a shambling, lazy, bearded lump who could do little but drink beer and play video games - an error of titanic proportions. Luke wandered the world until finding a home in Birmingham where he could satisfy his half remembered desires for violence through the consumption of vast amounts of Thrash and Death Metal...

Bestial Bill is believed to have once sailed the oceans as none other than Captain Iron William Flint, the Terror of Tortuga. The man who sacked Montego Bay and sunk four Spanish Men of War with all hands, his reputation for torture and savagery were unparalleled until he was captured by the British and hung in chains at Plymouth docks, where he swore bloody revenge against his captors until soldiers tore out his tongue and the birds stripped his flesh from his rascally bones.

Reanimated by a sinister voodoo curse that dragged his soul cursing and raging back to this world from the pit of hell, his fresh mission of murder was thwarted when it was discovered that upon arriving in Birmingham the canals proved a less than suitable outlet for his favourite pastimes of pillaging and slaughter. Devoting himself instead to bringing about his villainous ends through music, he began to apply his warped mind to Thrash, Death, Doom and Black Metal and the horrors that they may wreak upon an unprotected mind.

An heartless killer in the employ of Shadow-law in the 31st century, the man called Povey used advanced time-warping technology to return to the 1980s in order to stop the creation of Guns & Roses. However unbeknownst to him he was trailed back on his time-spanning mission by a Japanese Battle Robot and killed in an epic battle just outside Birmingham. The incident was hushed up by a paranoid government and Povey's broken body lay in an unmarked grave for nearly 5 years.

Eventually his mouldering corpse was dug up by hungry badgers, and the fresh exposure to pollutant-thick Midlands air caused the futuristic nanobots still present in his rotten veins to reactivate and create the semblance of life. Who knows what atrocities he might have unleashed upon the world had he been allowed to wander unchecked? Fortunately a freak lightning strike that hit him whilst eating an Exodus CD infused his mind with the purest essence of Thrash, and thus invigorated he began his endless quest: to drink all beer and literally Thrash til Death - his own or everyone else’s, it mattered little to him.