Venom Inc. live at Somerville, MA’s ONCE Ballroom

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A developed taste for the bizarre will imbue your soul with oodles of flavor-giving eclecticism. It involves unusual methodologies: seeking the strange, the outlandish, and the purposefully obtuse in roundabout and unconventional ways. For artists, this means destroying the box and the envelope altogether, and for consumers, it means crushing those pesky subconscious hangups about what things "should" sound like. Besides, widening musical perception and disarming expectations opens up portals to the juicy madness of cutting-edge concepts, esoteric structures, and super-psychedelic layers. Capturing this madness requires selecting the most powerful (read: extreme) ideas and weaving them into an experimental yet understandable latticework which can effectively draw in otherwise unaccustomed listeners. After all, you need to become strange before the strange begins to make sense. Now comes Australian duo Arkheth with their third full-length 12 Winter Moons Comes The Witches Brew, a totally off-the-wall black metal album whose wicked complexity and hidden melody serves only to delight the purveying/curious mind. The project comprises Tyrone "Tyraenos" Kostitch (all instruments, except saxophone) and Glen Wholohan (saxophone) whose interplay bridges jazz-like tension and multi-layered harmony. We've seen saxophone-infused black metal before, but Wholohan's approach is freshly postmodern without being overbearing. Check out an exclusive stream of the album's triumphantly dramatic finale "A Place Under the Sun" below.

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https://youtu.be/w59hKSeThJ4

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Moodily sung vocals tear open "A Place Under the Sun," setting its tone as somber and mysterious, aptly characterizing 12 Winter Moons Comes The Witches Brew's other four tracks. Harsh, underground shrieks introduce themselves at the midpoint amid a growing symphony which undulates, heading toward a passionate break into a saxophone solo backed by blast beats and ascending chord progressions. Charting the entire track, things die out, come back, die once again, and return yet once more for the fireworks -- "A Place Under the Sun" may well be the album's truest ballad and most rapturous song, asking for the entirety of the listener's emotional reserves. The path leading up to this point (two other tracks are streaming on the duo's Bandcamp linked below, should you be so inclined) was weary and treacherous, with numerous hidden passages and seemingly unimportant asides. The truth, however, is that Arkheth gives meaning to every divergent avenue or ancillary idea, connecting them all back to 12 Winter Moons Comes The Witches Brew's character as a darkly playful and dangerously experimental album. When hideousness reigns in the realm of "unnecessary" complexity, it's important to imbue each moment with a certain and peculiar beauty. Here, with their latest work, Arkheth uncovers the powerful idea that mere embellishments can be made critical and elemental through emotional intensity and a deft touch of weirdness.

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From the band:

The inspiration for this album came directly from the ancient and unknown past the mankind and its connection to the Earth and Cosmos. The primary source was the teachings of Hermes Trismegistus and his path to enlightenment. This is an important chapter for Arkheth in its evolution both musically and on its journey as an entity that continually seeks a deeper knowledge and connection with the Cosmos.

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12 Winter Moons Comes The Witches Brew releases on February 20th via Transcending Obscurity Records. Follow Arkheth on Bandcamp here and Facebook here.

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Contrary to what you may have heard, new calendar years are not blank slates. That's just not how time works. Time keeps going, building on itself, each year standing on the shoulders of the year before it. Still, the beginning of our arbitrary 365-day cycle does serve as an excuse to reflect on new starts. Uncrossing are a new band building to the release of their self-titled debut. "IOU," the EP's closing track which you can stream exclusively below, was the first song the Brooklyn-based quartet wrote. As such, there's no better way to get acquainted with their tastes and tendencies. They will never be this unadorned again. "IOU" sounds like a first song -- that may sound like an insult, but it isn't. I don't mean that it is hastily put together; on the contrary, Uncrossing are pretty slick when it comes to varying the song's central riff. What I mean is that "IOU" is an excitable piece of music. Each time the band move into a new section, you can hear them discovering something about each other. They speed up for the chorus and lean in on the bridge, adding trills and delicious harmonies before taking off for the races in the finale. That ending doesn't quite follow from the old school doom that proceeds it, but it works wonderfully as a test of Uncrossing's meddle. Though Uncrossing are a brand new band and "IOU" is a brand new song, neither exists without historical precedent. Just as a new year builds on the ground laid by years past, Uncrossing stand on the foundation built by countless metal and hard rock bands before them. Musically, "IOU" revolves around a riff straight out of the Vol.4 playbook: a woozy, laidback drawl that links doom metal to its blues roots. Singer Kristin Flammio delivers a dynamic performance that also draws from a classic blues lyric trope, giving a heartbreaker the boot. These are tried and true motifs in the world of hard rock, and I can think of few foundations stronger to announce yourself to the world on.

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Uncrossing will be released on February 9th. You can follow Uncrossing on Facebook. They will also be performing on the following dates: January 6th -- Ceremony, Brooklyn, NY January 21st -- The Gateway, Brooklyn, NY February 10th - Lucky 13, Brooklyn, NY

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There’s a huge difference between progressive rock and progressive metal. Although the two forms share similarities, the main contrast is artistic intent. A lot of progressive metal relies heavily on technicality and bombast: guitar solos and virtuosity are a must -- the subject matter and actual musical innovation tends to take a back seat to the theatrics. Progressive rock, on the other hand, typically puts its emphasis on content: technicality isn’t paramount to its success, it’s the means to an end. Australia’s Ne Obliviscaris manage to find a sweet spot between the two musical forms. The band’s extensions are often flamboyant, but never out of context. A story is always present. The group’s newest record Urn (released October 27th via Season of Mist) captures the best of progressive metal’s dexterity, all the while remaining completely engaged within the depth and sustainability of progressive rock. The group reaches a compromise to incorporate both forms. Violinist and clean vocalist Tim Charles was raised on progressive metal, but eventually found progressive rock. “I guess for me the introduction to progressive music started with Opeth when I first heard Blackwater Park,” he notes. “And then I worked backwards through bands like Dream Theater, before eventually falling in love with some of the originators such as Pink Floyd. In the end, there is a definitely a sound that is prog now, that is not that original anymore, and harkens back to either those early pioneers or the brand of prog metal developed by Dream Theater; but I like to think that being a prog band is more about pushing boundaries and refusing to stay static as an artist. It’s in that context that I consider Ne Obliviscaris a progressive band.” Interestingly, Opeth have dropped almost all their metal influences on their latest releases, and it’s arguably for the better. The progressive rock classic Heritage (2011) could be their best album to date. The group "toned it down" to turn it up, in a sense. Likewise, Urn’s most distinctive quality is its ability to capture contrast -- by compromise, Ne Obliviscaris is able to reach a higher artistic and (actual) progressive form. The extremity works because it’s blended within the music's context, and never really exploited for exploitation's sake. There is definitely an attempt to bridge two worlds and make a whole through disparate composites. “I think the main thing is for people to be open-minded when writing and composing,” Charles says. “Forget about boundaries and restrictions; forget about what is or isn’t extreme metal and just write music that you love. That has been our approach since day one and is the reason why our sound has continually developed and evolved. As individuals we are all unique and we try and find and harness that as musicians so we can create something that is special.”

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Ne Obliviscaris’ two vocalists epitomize the balance of the opposites the group infuses: Charles sings clean and maintains the exposition of the band’s compositions while vocalist Xenoyr is the extreme side of the equation, representing the fluxing nature of the band’s moods. Their collaborative workmanship is a common trait of progressive rock; or, the confidence and daring to try varying styles boldly, countering each method with a certain restraint. The group writes the songs as a team, within context and a tried methodology. “Most of the time we compose the rhythm guitars first, and then add in everything else from there,” Charles explains. “Often, once the drums are added in, the violin, clean vocals, harsh vocals, lead guitar, and bass are all being worked on simultaneously, so it’s often just openly discussing everyone’s different ideas and slowly piecing the song together. Xen and I will often discuss our thoughts on where we feel each of us could sing and I’ll then write vocal melodies, which I’ll give to Xen, who will then write lyrics specifically to suit the melody I’ve written.” Underneath it all, there’s a flavorful simplicity to Ne Obliviscaris that liquefies the often-complex measures and designs that are produced. If you listen to Urn carefully, you’ll pick up on the almost cherubic nature and softness of the directions traveled. It all starts with a basic and solid foundation. “We just try and write music that we love,” Charles notes. “We never think too much about technicality, it’s just about making sure every note serves the song, the melodies and chord progressions, to create something that moves you. In the end the biggest difference on this record was probably the less time spent jamming new songs in a room, and the more time composing and sending demos back and forth which gave people a bit more space to develop intricate ideas.” The result is a record that is of a definite place. Like the progressive rock acts before them, Ne Obliviscaris was able to create a journey's destination with Urn, a place to escape to, to lose one’s self in. Because the contrasting pieces fill in a complete picture, you’re able to follow along, float down the stream, ride the skies, and travel the landscape. Progressive means something to this band. It’s about movement. “The album was the best thing we had ever done,” Charles says. “It continued to explore new musical areas and utilized a production and mix that was much more representative of the mixture of extreme and melodic sounds that we had always wanted the band to sound like. For me, creating it was like disappearing down a rabbit hole for several months and hoping that you finish it before you forget how to function in the real world anymore.”

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As December finally comes to a close, so does the annual torrent of lists, wrap-ups, and reflections. With all opinions duly expressed on the previous year in metal, it’s now time to look ahead in anticipation of what 2018 will have in store. Eschewing the very trendy black metal bleakness that characterized many of 2017’s most acclaimed releases, Philadelphia-based Frost Giant are kicking off the new year on a decidedly uplifting tone with their upcoming album The Harlot Star. The band’s music is an affirmation of the potential for unbridled joy metal can create as they blend elements of power metal, melodic death, punk, and old-school hardcore for a thrilling, energizing sound. The song “Of Clarity and Regret” is an ideal entry point for those new to Frost Giant’s rollicking good times: within its first few minutes, it displays everything that makes the band’s music so compelling. Check out an exclusive stream below.

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The fierce punk-tinged intro quickly yields way to triumphant melodies and major chord progressions. Soaring vocal harmonies alternate with throaty screams, the band dancing deftly between genre influences. A potent breakdown at 1:50 showcases the band’s hardcore heart, complete with screamed gang vocals, before sliding right back into lush harmonies and gripping leads. Guitar solos blaze ahead through to the song’s second hardcore-styled breakdown, heralding the song’s epic zenith: the chorus, rendered in chuggalicious halftime complete with a key change. Only listeners with the coldest and blackest of hearts will be able to avoid cheesing hard with a glorious headbang session before ethereal guitars signal the song’s conclusion in the warm embrace of angelic drones.

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The Harlot Star drops via Transcending Records on January 19th. Pre-orders are available on the label’s website here. Pass the time from now until the album’s release with Frost Giant’s adorable claymation video for the track “Prisoner of the Past."

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Editor's Note: Enervating was corrected to energizing for clarity's sake.

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I remember the plump moistness of late nights back home, more than a decade ago now. The air fattened itself; thickets of fog materialized from the darkness, making things nearly opaque in nature's most boring off-grey. Insects went wild, chirping and flying about, drawing the attention of jet-speed bats. It was hotter than shit, though dense pockets of brisker air nestled cozily in shallow valleys between the wooded hills which made up this suburban landscape. Monster mansions with dim yellow light emanating from their grandiose windows perched themselves atop these private "mountains" (lesser homes relegated to lower altitudes), all connected to the spilled-spaghetti latticework of the local back-road system via driveways long enough to be roads themselves. Boring-looking deer mingled about, hidden and dangerously unaware, threatening passing vehicles with surprise carnage and their occupants with mild heart attacks, spilled drinks, and potential mountains of insurance paperwork. It was on this winding system and through these sweltering nights amidst the danger of gratis venison that I found myself reaching for the same CD over and over again to fit that mood, the one where insomnia attacks at 3 a.m. because life just feels so directionless and meaningless that even sleep loses purpose. That CD was Children of Bodom's Hate Crew Deathroll, freshly exposed from its Best Buy-branded shrinkwrap and charming in its bloody, reaper-core aesthetic. I was a teenager, my car had a turbocharger, and I was hell-bent on discovering the better truths that I knew had to exist at the ragged edge of a near-certain death by violent windshield ejection and vicious tree-limb entanglement. The only soundtrack fitting enough for pubescent automotive antics would have to buck authority, demolish self-loathing, inspire recklessness, and riff like a superpower, all while not taking itself too seriously. That soundtrack turned 15 years old today, just about as old as I was when it came out. Blaring all-time classics like "Triple Corpse Hammerblow" and "You're Better Off Dead," I devoured countless miles of bent, black ribbon at ludicrous speeds -- sometimes crossing the double-yellow in a screeching blur to perfectly nail an apex -- with my mind fully vacuumed of all conscious thought for precious moments alone without even myself to bother me. In essence, Hate Crew Deathroll helped free me from my number one enemy (me), if only temporarily. Exercising no rational or reasonable regard for anyone whatsoever, I achieved full presence in a demanding situation where mind and body transcend the conscious barrier to perform synchronously, almost mechanically, in real-time immediacy. Being so in charge of such a hairy situation and surviving made me feel that nothing else -- including words from people's mouths -- could ever touch me. To wit:

Until tomorrow is a better day to be, You're better off dead than fucking with me! What if there ain't no tomorrow... Well let me tell you, there wasn't one today!

Absolute fucking mantra for the pained, adolescent soul, though perhaps the message's delivery mechanism is even more important: Hate Crew Deathroll is a veritable trove of riffy delights, synthy triumphs, and crushing power plays which sting like killer bees on goosebumped skin. Drawing perhaps from the age of pop when melodies were more important than beat, it's the catchy guitar/keyboard interplay passages which act as the album's mainstay while also juxtaposing aggressively fun vocals and surprisingly punky drumming. All the while, Hate Crew Deathroll's spasmodic energy never falters; dare it be said that the album is even upbeat. This dynamic between sheer fuck-you-up-ism and the flippancy inherent in not giving two shits is what makes Children of Bodom special, and no other album of theirs nails this fifty-fifty balance quite like Hate Crew Deathroll. As the last Children of Bodom album to feature the massively underrated guitarist Alexander Kuoppala (whose fluent synergy with the famed Alexi Laiho contributed significantly to the success of prior albums), Hate Crew Deathroll represents a kind of virtuoso culmination and maturity which unfortunately disintegrated during the band's later years into cheap showmanship and limp party muzak. Earlier albums, especially Hatebreeder (1999), maintained higher levels of composure and seriousness, yet none were no less serious an effort than Hate Crew Deathroll despite its edgy nonsensicalness. None of this is to say that Hate Crew Deathroll is Children of Bodom's best album (by vote, that award might go to 2000's Follow the Reaper). Rather, it's to say that the band had found the resonant frequency of a room containing both metal for smashing faces and metal for hoisting oranges, a turning point in their career.

We're hate crew, we stand and we won't fall... We're all for none and none for all! Fuck you! We'll fight 'til the last hit, And we sure as hell ain't taking no shit!

I was metal as fuck, but in my own unusual and inward sort of way. I never wore my fandom, though sometimes I wished I had had the confidence to don battle gear rife with stitched-on indications of my favorite bands at the time. Well enough, I had joined the Hate Crew in my head: Hate Crew Deathroll wasn't a rallying cry for a battalion of loyal members (customers), it was an invitation and step-stool for metalheads who felt disenfranchised or just plain shy to demolish their guard and proudly display the objects of their musical desires. It was then when Children of Bodom became true loud-'n'-proud fools (hooligans almost), transcending the blatant technicality of prior releases for something with a bit more presence, pizzazz, and pantomime. Sure enough, songs like the straightforward but inimitable "Needled 24/7" and balladic "Angels Don't Kill" demonstrate Children of Bodom's penchant for noodling out delicate, score-worthy passages with enough blunt energy to jumpstart a stalled star. And the infamous "Sixpounder" was simply the heaviest goddamn thing the band had ever written.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09KScSe4hIc

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As icing on the cake, Children of Bodom supplemented Hate Crew Deathroll with a cover of Slayer's "Silent Scream" as well as the Ramones' "Somebody Put Something in My Drink." These selections echo the album's ethos brilliantly: neither track is bound to the gravity of its content, but both tracks feature prominent guitar and vocal hooks both aggressive and inspiring and therefore emotional in their own right. Given the Children of Bodom treatment (and for their own benefit), perhaps these songs shine even brighter with Laiho's grisled growls and flamboyant guitar techniques -- nevertheless, they fit alongside the likes of "Lil' Bloodred Ridin' Hood" and "Bodom Beach Terror" with peculiar aplomb. It's one thing to express yourself honestly through someone else's songwriting, but it's another thing altogether to cohere this with your own genuine work without sounding like a ripoff. Therein lies the magic: Children of Bodom became simultaneously vapid and brilliant with Hate Crew Deathroll. Seemingly gone were the studiousness and fastidiousness of prior albums, i.e. the details and minutia your analytical side munches on. These characteristics weren't actually gone, though, just repositioned to where only your emotional side could access them, usually by dampening the part of you which spends too much time thinking and not enough time hearing. This is where driving came in: one of the few activities which quells inner monologue and frees up bandwidth for direct input. Whatever your particular activity or method is, the idea is to feel the music first, and then understand it, not the other way around. That is the profound shift that Children of Bodom made with this album, and why it's so important for them as a popular band.

Late night you party until it's light, While pointing at the sky! Wash your hands in the lake of your blood, Just before you die!

Great driving music doesn't always make great music, but Hate Crew Deathroll was both (and you didn't have to be speeding out of control to make sense of it like me). It was almost as if Children of Bodom had reached a decade into the future to grab themselves by the collar and punch themselves in the face for writing Halo of Blood (2013), followed by quickly making up for the whole debacle by doing some late-night joyriding together. With newer Children of Bodom in mind, Hate Crew Deathroll is suited and permed by comparison, but once you do some undressing, you'll discover it's wearing polka-dot skivvies and a holstered pistol. It screams the "don't mess with crazy" adage while also promoting the "keep strange company" one -- seemingly contradictory, but artistically intertwined into something dualistic in nature rather than separatist. Therefrom flows Hate Crew Deathroll's manically grinning ecstaticism for the notion that no matter who you are, you can join the Hate Crew if you're wild enough.

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Judas Priest will release their new album Firepower on March 9 via Epic Records. It's the followup to 2014's Redeemer of Souls, which was their first album with KK Downing's replacement Richie Faulkner. Lead single "Lightning Strike" is out now, and it sounds like classic Priest, which is not a bad thing at all. Listen below. The band -- whose current lineup includes classic lineup members Rob Halford, Ian Hill and Glenn Tipton, and longtime (since Painkiller) drummer Scott Travis, along with Faulkner -- recorded the album with longtime collaborator Tom Allom, Sabbat member Andy Sneap (who’s also recorded Accept, Saxon, Exodus, Megadeth, Kreator, and more), and engineer Mike Exeter (who did Black Sabbath’s 13). The artwork is above and the tracklist is below. As mentioned, Priest are touring this year with fellow metal legends Saxon and Thin Lizzy offshoot Black Star Riders (made up of members of the current Thin Lizzy lineup, including lead guitarist Scott Gorham from the classic lineup). The tour includes NYC-area shows on March 17 at Nassau Coliseum and March 20 at Prudential Center (tickets). https://open.spotify.com/album/18TrvF7M3D2uxYjXKhw9kk Tracklist 01. "Firepower" 02. "Lightning Strike" 03. "Evil Never Dies" 04. "Never The Heroes" 05. "Necromancer" 06. "Children of the Sun" 07. "Guardians" 08. "Rising From Ruins" 09. "Flame Thrower" 10. "Spectre" 11. "Traitors Gate" 12. "No Surrender" 13. "Lone Wolf" 14. "Sea of Red"

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What makes us anxious about technology is, on some level, our lack of understanding. Apple product design is meant to be comforting due to how it hides the information they deem we do not need, and instead give us flat surfaces, smooth, curved lines, and soft edges. Websites feel broken if we can see behind the user interface. Ignorance is bliss. Popular electronic music often works similarly. You're separated from the way the music is produced. You are meant to fall into the producer's fantasy world without having to think about its architecture. The effect is one of transportation: the composer either builds a new sonic space to explore or evokes one that you are familiar and comfortable with. LACHANE, a duo comprised of Melissa Cha and Ryan Garl, are not interested in comfort. On "Cramp," the opening track of their upcoming self-titled album, they aren't even interested in discomfort. Instead of using technology to send you back to the idea of the '80s or to a slightly heightened dystopian future, "Cramp" presents the group's tools as they are. This is most clear when you compare "Cramp's" video, directed by Tronotape, to the one for LACHANE's previous single "Ideal-I." Both make explicit use of geometric shapes and distorted images, but to vastly different ends. In "Ideal-I", images of plants are projected onto blank walls and doorways, the squares of the projection walling off life from its surroundings. As Cha's voice is warped and manipulated, the human face is smeared into paste. At all points, the theme of alienation and separation are told through film language and visual symbolism. The shapes and colors in "Cramp" on the other hand don't evoke anything, they simply are. You could call it abstract as it eschews even the suggestion of narrative or humanity, but it is actually literal. It doesn't pretend any of the sounds or images you see came from anywhere but the machines and people which generate them. The omnipresence of the white background in the frame makes it impossible to ignore the work's canvas and the craft being used to make it. The same is true of the looping drum machine pattern which serves as "Cramp's" backbone. LACHANE don't show or tell, they are.

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Lachane will be released on February 9th via Holodeck. You can catch Lachane live at H010 in Brooklyn, NY on February 16th.

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There’s a cavern in the brain that most people avoid, a submerged recess that houses our basest impulses. Sixes’ debut LP Methistopheles and its title track dive headfirst into that murk, not once emerging for air. Throughout “Methistopholes,” guitarists Stephen Cummings and Hannes Bogacs weave lead blankets of distortion adorned with rusted nails of feedback. Drummer Eddie Estrada, who’s been replaced by atom-smasher Dustin Daniels, and bassist Zander Reddis’ churning rhythms similarly weigh on the chest. Adding extra sting, the song traverses into a storm of primitive black metal before diving back into the chasm of negativity from which it was spawned.

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https://soundcloud.com/sixesdoom/methistopheles/s-bmwoX

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Methistopheles releases March 1st via Black Bow Records. Upcoming shows include: January 31st -- San Diego @ The Merrow (with The Hazytones, Mortar, and Captain Howdy) February 25th -- Los Angeles @ 5 Star Bar (with Year Of The Cobra, Goliathan, Mountain Tamer, and Solar Haze) June 15th -- Austin Terror Fest Follow Sixes on Facebook.

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Expectation is a double-headed axe of wanton destruction, especially in black metal. There are so many criteria to be met, contexts to be adhered to… it seems counterintuitive to creativity. Who are we, the listeners, to set all these goals for the artists who so tirelessly feed us the fruits of their labor? Genre boundaries are one thing, but to give an artist a pinhead to thread the rope of their endeavors gives too much implied control to the listeners. Who wins? Expectation can, however, be defied to a vastly successful level. Take Eigenlicht, for example. Comprised of notable members of the Pacific Northwest (read as: "Cascadian") black metal scene, it would be expected that this band's debut full-length would be naturalistic, a vast forest painted in swaths of echoed ambiance and delicate acoustics. And that would be fine, it's been a great deal of time since we've heard from Ray Hawes's Skagos, Johnny DeLacy's Fauna, and Yianna Bekris's Vradiazei*, but an unexpected turn in their artistic careers makes this new year start on a more exciting note. Joined by multi-instrumentalist Mara Winter, also in Hawes and DeLacy's neofolk group Ekstasis, Eigenlicht is a warlike beam of feral black metal truth. Subtly symphonic and viscerally piercing, the lengthy Self-Annihilating Consciousness finds itself in the thin overlap between the vicious and the heady -- black metal which fights the inward battle against consciousness without pretense. As such, Eigenlicht is dramatic, destructive, much like the flaming sword which graces their album cover (and sometimes joins them onstage). An album of big textures and even bigger riffs, this troupe of Cascadian heroes hurls themselves into the inward grey beyond. No, this violent void-gazing isn't quite what anyone, including yours truly, would expect from such an ensemble cast, but the poison of expectation has met its antidote here. This isn't the "experimental side project" which black metal artists use to escape, but a redefining of careers. These stalwarts have emerged from the forest in psychic battle gear, fully prepared for a battle no one knew they had trained for. Self-Annihilating Consciousness will be released via Gilead Media and I, Voidhanger Records on February 16th. Listen to an exclusive premiere of "Labrys" below.

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From the artist:

Self-Annihilating Consciousness is an exploration into the realm of gnosis that both illuminates and destroys, that draws out the truth of Being even as it ruptures our conceptions of Self and Other. Molded around a black metal core, it spills open at times into angular meditations, cosmic thralldom, and orgies of ecstatic metallic fervor. The album coheres around mind-altering revelations that bring a mirror to the invoker only to then shatter the reflection. Logos wrestles with Abyss in an eternal struggle over who will properly wield the blazing sword of intangible truth.

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Follow Eigenlicht on Bandcamp.

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*is there ANY news about Vradiazei? It's been so long!

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Paysage d'Hiver is the essence of winter. Cold, menacing, the core of black metal distilled into the purest sound of winter's might. The pet project of the enigmatic Tobias "Wintherr" Möckl, the frigid buzzing of this long-standing project, now closing out its twentieth year, is a difficult beauty. What is at first raw, if even harsh, masks a beauty beneath its whiteout winds. Influenced by "winterwanderings" in his youth, Wintherr's solo efforts paint winter as nostalgia, comfortably resting somewhere between the inhuman transcendence of cold and a projection of his own inner self. In an interview conducted over the last quarter of 2017, which you can read below, Wintherr opened up about his own philosophies about life, music, and art. Suddenly, this distant character, the cloaked figure at the top of the mountain, is suddenly humanized and (unexpectedly) warm.

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Paysage d'Hiver, as far as public knowledge is aware, is closing its twentieth year of existence. Having released hours and hours of music, each a stark statement all its own, does it feel like this project has been around for such a (relatively) immense length of time? No, it doesn't at all. For me personally, Paysage d'Hiver is quite timeless. It represents a souljourney where time and space doesn't exist. Even though there is no other way possible than being a child of it's time, if it is to be put out into this world where time and space do exist. Which obviously is what happened, is happening and will happen. As each is a "souljourney," does your soul exist in this icy place, something akin to the frigid Alpine winters? This icy place, "Paysage d'Hiver", is my innerself. So is "the wanderer" and everything else in it. It's basically a journey within my inner self, through my inner self, towards my inner self. It's a kind of meditation, if you will. As for why I choose this icy landscape: I always felt very comfortable in snowy winterlandscapes. It represents aspects which are also crucial within this meditation. It has this tranquil atmosphere, it seems like nature is asleep and this opens a door to insight. It almost demands to look inside yourself. The spiritual world gets closer to the world of the "living". It makes it easier to get in contact with the spiritual world. The absence of light also helps with this. From all our 5 physical senses, the eyes occupy about 70% of our resources for that matter. If you see less, you have more resources for other senses. If it is cold, you have less odour in the air. If there is snow, it dampens sounds. Summed up, it automatically gives room for using the 6th, or other non physical senses. I think it is crucial to deal with all these, in human perception usually rather "negative" aspects of inner coldness and darkness, in order to be able to develop. To which destinations has the Wanderer arrived with each journey? Or are these journeys more formless and abstract? Each demo/album (or whatever term fits best) is a chapter in the whole journey. So it's not several journeys, but one with different chapters. Each chapter has a specific meaning in my life. What you hear is basically the vibrations of another dimension within myself. It's a mirror image of what I experience on my soullevel, which is private and I don't want to share this publicly. It wouldn't make much sense, because my personal idea of making those sounds publicly available was always to give other souls the possibility to make their own experiences with it. I am confident, that at least some people feel the depths and connect somehow. Connection through isolationism? Though you expressed a desire to give people that chance at relating to your music, is making it public ever difficult? Very. That's why I released the first six tapes all at once. I waited because of personal reasons. After a while I'm able to have a bit more distance which makes it easier to have it available for...well, complete foreigners. Has your general social isolation (lack of interviews, no live performances, generally self-releasing material) helped maintain this isolation? Does it go further? Actually having the material released did disturb quite a bit. On one hand I appreciate that people enjoy Paysage d'hiver. On the other hand it makes it quite difficult for me to be able to sink down inside myself and continue the ritual, because I do feel some sort of expectational pressure. If real or not, I don't know. I mean people always judge new work of an "artist" with what she or he has released before. I used to be not any different, one of the reasons why I started to make music by myself: Artists didn't do what I expected of them. So I had no other choice, than doing it by myself. Of course, releasing six demos/"albums" all at once took away that possibility, and that was an advantage I of course don't have nowadays. After Das Tor, I just had to get some distance to be able to have at least some of this pressure released off my shoulders. It worked. So I try to keep a sane sort of isolation, but it does not go further than that. I don't live in the woods in an old wooden cottage (as some people might expect), but quiet and calm in a medieval house nearby the woods. Given the cult status you've attained in black metal circles and the uncomfortable feelings you carry, do you feel any regret with having these initially private recordings released? Would you have released them at all if you knew you would develop such an influential presence? Oh, well, I have no idea of any cult status. I know that there are some people who respect the work of Paysage d'hiver, but I have no idea of how many and to what extent. Sometimes I get some feedback which I appreciate, simply because I'm a very curious and interested person in general. The most powerful of all the feedbacks I received so far was from a young woman from Italy, who told me that Einsamkeit saved her from committing suicide. This alone made it totally worth it for me personally for having it released. If I ever really had a goal in having it released, or rather a wish concerning the possible audience, it was for inspiration, or being influential if you will. I think this might be the case for some people. Even if it was and still is difficult to give a broader audience access to Paysage d'hiver, it just didn't and still doesn't feel right to keep it to myself. Back in the days, when I made the decision "to go public", I asked myself the question: How would I feel like if something as important for me as for instance the first three Ulver-Albums would've been recorded, but not released? Awful. So maybe, Paysage d'hiver might be as important to a few people as this Ulver-Example was for me (other examples would be possible. Vikingligr Veldi, Hvis lyset tar oss, etc...). Even if it's only six people who would appreciate, having it released would be worth it. Not for self-gaining purposes, but for the experience these people otherwise wouldn't have been able to perceive. That thought answered my question if I should go public or not. So: No, I don't regret.

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That fan story is really powerful. I guess you don't really hear about black metal preventing self destruction... ever. Or any sort of destruction. It's always been such a dark genre, and I don't think people expect reclusive artists within that blanket style to feel that sort of connection to people. Though you retain the isolation which we discussed earlier, do you feel separated from black metal's outward darkness, as well? Difficult question, as simple as it may seem. Darkness is a vital part of black metal, but what is darkness? For me personally, the darkness in Black Metal always had to do a lot with archaic energies and the raw aspects of nature on one side, and a way of dealing with the dark aspects of the inner self on the other side. So, something very natural, but also something that is being avoided as much as possible by the majority of the people, because it feels uncomfortable. Understandably, people want to feel comfortable and try to avoid uncomfortable situations as much as possible -- I'm not any different. Especially in the so called "Western", capitalistic societies, where we are constantly confronted with a view of life of happiness through consuming all sorts of products. What we brand as "developed countries" means "more separated". Which basically is the sense that lies in the word "diabolic". In my opinion, it is very important to deal with the deeper meanings of whatever feels uncomfortable. Because that's where the things that you should look at lay. The deeper things that yearn for transformation. Depression, for instance, shows this very clearly. It's something which is generally perceived as something dark, almost normal in these Western / capitalistic societies and the numbers of people suffering from it are increasing. So, just maybe, it's not consuming goods and lifestyles that make us happier. Everything has a deeper meaning and a deeper sense. So, you can listen [to] what it has to say, instead of pushing it away, because it feels uncomfortable. What I have learned from depression is this: there is something you have to look at, understand and transform. So, from this perspective, depression is not something negative or dark, it is a helping hand. Even if it feels negative, dark and paralysing. Once you understand things like this example I just gave you, you see that basically everything is neutral. Dualism doesn't exist. But yet we live in a world of polarities, indeed! So what's the difference between dualism and polarity? For example: how do you define darkness? By absence of light. How do you define light? By absence of darkness? No. Light IS. You either have light, or you don't. If you don't, then you have darkness. Another example: health. How do you define health? By absence of disease? You have hundreds of diseases, but only one health. Health just IS. It's perfect in itself. If you are whole, you are healthy, and if something is amiss, then you have a disease or diseases. So, diseases are always a helping hand to bring you back to your inner equilibrium. But, yes, usually they are very unpleasant up to the point of leading to death, because something that is "out of order" is not able to function. How do you define order? How do you define chaos? If there would only be chaos, nothing would exist. Chaos is not a lack of order, it's nothingness. Because nothing can exist without order. A perfect sample of how the cosmic order of things work, are snowflakes. Just look at them. No flake looks the same, but yet they follow a very specific pattern, otherwise we wouldn't be able to perceive them as snowflakes. Same goes for plants, silver fir for example. Each of those trees are clearly identifiable as a silver fir, but yet each of them grows [differently]. Individual. And so it is with everything, us human beings included. We are part of a "higher order", thus clearly identifiable as human and still individual and diverse at the same time. We might know much, but nobody has deciphered this code so far. This leads me to: everything is energy. Energy is information. What is it that informs a tree, or a snowflake, or a human being to take this or that form? DNA? It's proven that the DNA can be changed by thought, so this can't be it, it's rather another manifestation of the code. There must be some sort of source. Quantum physics is a very interesting topic there. If the core question of physics is: [w]hat is the physical world made of, what is the smallest part, the Atomos of which everything physical is built upon and you go smaller and smaller and smaller...and discover, that there is ever, endlessly something smaller to discover about the core of the physical world. And then you have found the Atom, only to find out that first of all, there are even smaller parts, no Atom ever touches another atom and that an atom consists of 99.999999.....% well… space… or something we don't know yet. Why even consider to look at the 0.01111111.....% of actual physical material? So the physical world consists of what now? Is it even there, or is it simply an illusion? The smaller you go with the materialistic world, the more it vanishes into nothing...and leaves only energy / information in the end.

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Quantum physics has a different approach: that everything is aligned to a higher order. If you have a molecule, the atoms it consists of follow the higher order of the molecule. The molecule follows the order of what it represents. And so on. So it doesn't go into finding the smallest part, it doesn't go down, it goes up. Same thing, different perspective. So you have smaller parts, that follow the bigger picture. That's order. It's a neutral order. And it's mainly information, which is energy. So if you don't have any energy or information, you have chaos. (That's what physicists called "morphogenetic field" or by Jung "collective unconsciousness".) For instance, each cell of our body has a measurable amount of energy. Which is around 70 millivolts, if I remember correctly. Researchers have found out, that if this energy drops to 15 millivolts or lower, cells start to mutate and are able to develop what we call cancer. So this is basically a lack of information. Now this gives a picture of a sort of "hierarchy". The lower plain has no possibility of imagining the higher plain above. If you are a 2D being, you have no imagination of the 3D world. According to Burkhard Heim's theory, there are 12 plains. We are 3D or 4D (time and space) at the most. So we human beings have no possibility to imagine the 5th plain or above. This is where most likely, this "Morphogenetic field" or "information field" is to find. So maybe, in the end, darkness and light is simply nothing more than information / energy, or the absence of it. Another thing being perceived as "dark" is Occultism. The meaning of it is: The things that are in the dark, meaning the things you don't have access to, which you are not able to see or perceive, thus, metaphorically speaking: in the dark. The initial idea is to gain knowledge and consciousness, in other words bring light into the things that are in the dark, hidden, not visible, not perceivable. Many things that used to be "occult" in old times are common knowledge nowadays. So occultism isn't something dark per se. I think we just perceive things of the unknown as threatening and fearful and thus as dark and negative. But what do we really fear? Isn't it simply the fear that our view of the world could be shattered by some new knowledge or consciousness? That definitely is fearsome, but also a necessary "evil" to be able to progress. We tend to have the idea that we are superior in our knowledge nowadays, that we are enlightened. If you think, that we only know not even one millionth about of how the human body really works, I think there is still pretty much in the dark, being "occult" (so nothing "bad" or "evil" about occultism in general. It's neutral). With the other universe, the outer universe, it's not any different. We might know much, but still only a fraction of what is out there to know. So there's still a lot in the dark and a lot to fear. There is a universal order, a universal energy and a universal field of information. All is one but still individual at the same time. So this is all about consciousness and development. All being said here and now is where I am at the moment. I will progress and develop, so it might very well be, that I will change my view in the future. To get back to your question: I don't feel separated from Black Metal's outward darkness. But I am separated from its superficial late night show sort of negativity. I am not a negative person at all. There have been many discussions about how to exactly define Black Metal. Does it have to be satanic (whatever that means is another topic), is it simply a specific style of music? Or some mixture of both? Heathen? Anti-Christian? Anti-Establishment? My personal opinion: It's a music style, but not only. It wants something: It wants to deal with darkness. It wants you to deal with darkness or dark topics as a listener or creator and thus plays a vital part as a form of art in our society, which tends to try to ban any dark aspects in order to be "happy". Which is not possible, because darkness is natural and a part of nature of which we are also part of. Black metal gives it a voice and possibility to confront darkness, deal with it and maybe also understand it. Art in general is a very good way of dealing with unpleasant topics, it mirrors the soul. Black metal does this specifically with darkness. I think our society is in need of a different mindset, a different way of how to look at things, because it's important that we all do deal with the dark aspects within ourselves and in our surrounding in order to progress (which is the only thing being constant). It's something natural and simply avoiding it doesn't make it go away. Thus, the more we try to ignore it, the louder it will speak. So maybe black metal is a sort of much needed "health program" for our societies, and maybe this is also why it is so loud! Sound-wise and aesthetic wise. If you deal with darkness, you will inevitably bring light to it, because you will gain knowledge and become more conscious. So as a consequence, this "concept" of darkness in black metal will die at some point. Unless there is infinite darkness. I have brought in a lot of light in Paysage d'Hiver up to now. Something like Schattengang will not be possible in the future. Unless I open another very dark gate within myself, which is definitely possible. What I have learned within the years of getting to know people who are into Black Metal is that they have something in common, which is: To exactly have this intuitive urge to deal with this darkness inside them and in the outside world (which follows the one cosmic principle of "what is inside, is outside and vice versus"), everybody into black metal has something very dark inside of them they have to deal with. And they often come to love it. So another crucial part of black metal is love. Nobody would do it nor listen to it, if it wouldn't be for love for it, a deep connection to it. You can try to be as negative as possible how much you want, it won't change that fact. I do love black metal. This is the main reason why I am stylistically doing what I am doing with Paysage d'Hiver. I listen to a lot of other music too, though. I can certainly see you've spent a lot of time thinking about what shapes your art -- the underlying philosophies, the ontological structures, the values you hold -- but what strikes me the most is still the humanistic element of you holding the well-being of a fan so dear that you feel it fuels your project. Though I guess the public school of thought behind Paysage d'Hiver is more of a cross-section of transcendentalism and post-modernity -- a friend described the music as "the sound of winter melancholy if you put a recording device in a forest" -- the idea of a humanistic drive and eventual inspiration is unexpected. Do you feel, across your clearly defined thoughts on darkness, light, dualism, value, aesthetics, et cetera, that humanism has become this eventuality of your music? Paysage d'Hiver is about me, myself and I at first place. So it's a totally egocentric view. The black metal-world I had the possibility to inhale in the early 1990s was a world where only I was able to dive in. It was a world within myself, where only I existed and nobody else had any kind of access. That's the kind of feeling it gave me. Even though, of course, there were other people listening to the same music and most likely quite some of them had a similar feeling how I did. It was something very deep. More than "just" music. So Paysage d'Hiver is my personal vision of black metal (and musically/stylistically also of other music). As I was not satisfied with what directions the bands who invoked this feeling in me took, as nobody seemed to be able to embody my vision or be "true" to it, I just had to do it by myself. My vision was very strong and what I did with Paysage d'Hiver is trying to give life to this vision, and perfect it. The reason why the scenery for this vision is mainly winter, forests and mountains is simply because I always felt a strong connection to it, also when I was a child. And emotionally I always connected black metal with this scenery. I had many walks in the winterly mountain-forests with this music in my "walkman" (someone still remembers?) back in the days. "The sound of winter melancholy if you put a recording device in a forest" describes it quite well. I would only be more precise about the recording device: A shitty tape recorder. Not possible to put up a whole studio in this environment without killing the atmosphere you actually try to capture. Paysage d'hiver is being made "out there", the perfect environment to have this very intimate and meditative moment with you, yourself and you. And of course with yourself too. The humanistic part lies in the decision I made to have it available to a broader audience: If Paysage d'Hiver has a positive effect, even if it is only one or two people, this decision to have it released, is totally worth it. I mean, why else should I release something that personal? For pure narcissism and/or greed? That's not who I am. Both, the ego and money, are insanely overrated (another topic). It's not what life is about. And Paysage d'Hiver is about life. My life. My innerself. But definitely not in a narcissistic way. I am not separated, even though I quite often feel like it. I do have a connection with everything. Thus "Humanistic" doesn't quite grasp it, because it's not only about human beings, but basically everything that "is": It's about life. Sure the reactions of people towards Paysage d'Hiver have an influence on me, I can't avoid that. But it's not what fuels my "project". You mentioned the idea of winter and solitary wanderings in the snow as a child fueling what would eventually become the icy focus of Paysage d'Hiver in your adult life. Though the project appears to be something more zen and meditative in the way you explain it, does that nostalgic feel still make its way through when writing, recording, and ultimately revisiting these works? Oh yes, absolutely. These are still very intense memories, very much alive. It's this whole atmosphere, the pictures, smells, sounds, feelings...hard to explain, but I think everyone who has experienced it, will know exactly what I mean. It's not only nostalgic -- I still go outside in the snow if it's possible.

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The sound is certainly nostalgic, a constant hearkening back to the project's public impetus. Always raw, uncompromising, atmospheric. This year has certainly had that "early Paysage d'Hiver" feel, if just for the volume of releases. Though "Schnee (III)", in at least one of its forms, had been made public through your MySpace page a decade or so ago, it's been eighteen years since Paysage d'Hiver released more than one demo, album, or song within a year's time, and the amount of splits is unprecedented as your only split releases prior to 2017 were with Lunar Aurora and Vinterriket. What led to this happening? Was it intended? Could you tell me a little more about the split with Nordlicht? The split LP with Nordlicht was actually planned for many years and the songs featured were composed for this specific purpose. Somehow, both Nimosh and I just had too much stuff going on in our lives, so this release didn't really make any progress. It really got a kick when I was asked to do a split release with Drudkh. For me, I thought it to be a bit strange to have "Schnee (lV)" released before "Schnee (lll)". Thus it was quite natural to finally push this release. To answer your question: No it wasn't planned that way. It was kind of logical due to the aforementioned reason. About the "Schnee"-theme: I like observing one aspect from different angles. Theoretically, you have 360° of possible angles to observe or experience something. Usually, people focus on something specific and therefore usually only get to know 1° or even less of the full spectrum. It's what we have been taught, to focus on something as narrow and into a specific detail as much as possible. The one who's best in it gets a reward. It's quite narrow; of course, if you want to focus on something, it has to be narrow. A world full of specialists. But to get the wider picture and really understand things, a wider perspective is actually mandatory. Or have several different approaches from different angles at least. So, with the Schnee-theme, it's an attempt to look at this one specific "thing" from different angles. Which also includes different time periods. "Schnee (l)" was recorded in 1999 or 2000, "Schnee (lV) was recorded in 2016. The plan is to have all Schnee-songs released as one album on CD-format (and maybe tape). So, to have the vinyl format for the splits, but the CD format (and probably the tape format) for the summary of all these different perspectives. Of course, to be able to have this summary, the "Schnee"-cycle has to come to an end. It's very much possible that this is the case now. I'm not 100% sure yet, though. "Schnee (lll)" was the first song for Paysage d'Hiver that I recorded with a PC-based system. Everything before that was recorded on an 8-tracker, so this was quite a difficult step for me. With an 8-tracker, you don't have a big screen, so no optical diversion is possible. With a computer, you constantly have this diversion. As the optics/eyes are the one of the human senses which demands the most room in brain-processing of all the senses (about 70% of all the 5 senses), it is much more difficult to really focus on the inner self. I think this is quite crucial for a lot of music nowadays. I mean, technical innovations revolutionized music in general -- there would be no Black Metal as we know it without it, there would be no distorted guitars, there would be no electrical instruments available at all. Working with a computer makes things a lot easier, but, on the other hand, it also makes certain things more difficult. With this song, I had to deal with a new surrounding. The 8-tracker was dying, so I was forced to look for an alternative. As I already had experience with computer based recording, this was the natural decision. This answer is probably not what you were referring to, but this was the most profound difference at that time.

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Aside from visual distraction and new surrounding, what other difficulties did you face when adapting the Paysage d'Hiver sound to this new technology? You had self-effacingly described your music as having a "shitty tape recorder" sound, so I can infer that the death of your 8-track recording device must have posed a great problem. There must have been more than a few challenges in intentionally re-creating the signature, very lo-fi sound aesthetic with this sudden increase in processing power. The difficulty really is the screen. It wasn't the first time for me to work with a computer with recording, so I already had experience with this surrounding. With Paysage d'Hiver, it was just much more difficult to bring the innerself together with the technology. Simply because Paysage d'Hiver is so much based on an inside view. I mean, you can still record with 8 tracks on a computer, even if you have theoretically unlimited tracks at hand. And the other surrounding, like instruments and effects didn't change. I think the result on "Schnee (lll)" is quite the same as in older songs. Das Tor was quite bigger productionwise. More tracks, more programming of simple automations like fades, for instance. I am very satisfied with the result. Very much like the old recordings, but slightly better. With the 8-tracker, everything was handmade. No automations where possible. I spent hours and hours of mixing just to get the perfect mixdown, especially with these rather long songs. If you make a mistake in the end of a song, you have to start all over again. Or even the whole album, like Kerker with all the ambient in the background. Nowadays, people might laugh about my methods back then. Automation was just not available on that level! It was such a relief to have the possibility for automations. That was really the biggest gain compared to the 8-tracker. So, even though the screen can really mess with how you create music, I wouldn't want to go back. For the lo-fi-aesthetic, it's just really about the vision. With "Schnee (lV)", I'm not that happy. I was under pressure timewise so I didn't have time to find a distance to the whole thing. I got lost in the mix and that's also how it sounds. I did not find the balance I wanted to have between listenable and freezing cold "white noise". I think the song is one of the best Paysage d'Hiver tracks, but the "production" could be....well...colder. More "lo-fi", if you want. For me: more winter-atmosphere. The Paysage d'hiver-sound has so many disturbing frequencies, if you try to pull them all out of the mix, you end up with...nothing. Isn't this "metal" in general? Distorted guitars are meant to be disturbing. Initially that was the whole idea, wasn't it? How does that co-op with a "nice production"? Raw and dirty it has to be! That's my vision. Because there is so much energy and magic in this disturbing distorted sound. It triggers your own imagination. Like in a blizzard, where you can't really see anything but a blur. You are forced, to use other senses than your eyes. The same as with winterly-mountain-forests, I was fascinated of the sound of distorted guitars, as a kid. Just the sound itself, not necessarily the music-style of Heavy Metal. This sound was and still is pure magic for me. I want to have this magic as pure as possible, because it's the essence. When producing, the tendency is to take the magic away. The price to be paid for being listenable. It's difficult to find the right balance between being listenable and this magic of the sound of distortion. You can easily destroy an actually really good record with the wrong production. So, going to a studio was not an option for me, because I wanted to have control of the sound. In producing music, there are certain optimums that have shown to be the way to go. The problem is: It might be nice for your ears, but as these production-knowledges are global, everything kind of sounds the same in the end. My vision was to have a distinctive sound. To have something unique. Something that you will remember, as a whole. This includes the way it sounds. The sound is a consciously used tool to paint the picture I want to bring to life. If you have a global way of how to produce things, basically it means that you have to leave that path and do something "wrong" to have a unique sound. Fine with me if it isn't as pleasant for the ears as it could be. Paysage d'Hiver is meant to invoke something in the inner self, because that's where it comes from. Use your imagination, be yourself, get to know yourself, follow your path! You can compare it to movies and books. Which of both has the bigger possibility of invoking pictures within yourself? Well, a movie usually is much more sex to your eyes than an alignment of black letters on white paper, which is something very abstract. It's your mind translating this abstract black and white into whole worlds and universes which no movie will ever be able to capture. And that is what a "bad" production can do. Doesn't necessarily, but also not every book does that. So the sound of Paysage d'Hiver is more like a book, invoking these "pictures" in your mind, compared to a movie, which will never be able to have the same depth as a book, even if it appears sexier to your senses. Imagine Paysage d'Hiver with a "high-end-Dimmu-Style-production". Wouldn't work. Same music. Same riffs and melodies. Not possible. I wonder how newer Dimmu Borgir would sound with a Paysage d'hiver-like-"production"... I guess you would only be able to hear a third of what's actually going on, but it would definitely be much more intense emotionally and atmospherically, I'm sure. Because it would trigger your imagination far more with its harshness. But maybe that's just me. Otherwise everybody would have a Paysage d'Hiver-sort-of-"production". On the other hand, every iconic band has a distinctive sound. Of course, this can also be the vocals, certain kind of riffing, etc, but the production is a vital part of the overall experience and in my opinion this has still not the attention it deserves. Distorted guitars should stay distorted/harsh, otherwise you can just as well do something else…

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Do you feel more black metal artists could benefit from the lo-fi aesthetic, production, and sound? Yes, I think so. Something like Urgehal's Rise of the Monument, or Old Wainds/Nav's We Are the North, for example: Very raw, dirty and extreme. This transports a lot more of the grim and cold emotions than any "good" production. Of course, it should still be listenable. If you really can't hear what's going on anymore, it doesn't make much sense either of course. As someone who has so staunchly held onto the raw, lo-fi tenets of black metal, why do you think so many bands have opted for clarity and polished production over the years? I can only speculate about that. The longer you are active as a musician, the more you automatically get to know about audio production. This is inevitable. You also become more professional, your ears are more trained and thus your whole appearance towards music changes and enhances. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it makes it more difficult to do things deliberately "bad". You just always want the maximum possible for your music, your baby. It's just very difficult to destroy it deliberately, even for black metallers, as it seems. [laughs]. But maybe it's just because people are getting older and thus shift into their comfort zone. Or maybe it's because they want to sell more albums? Or maybe it's very simple: they just like polished productions. A matter of taste. Is there any advice you would want to offer to anyone who might want to venture into creating black metal of their own? Be possessed! I don't mean this in any religious way, but as in an extreme form of passion, but I guess this goes for anything you do and want to be successful in (personally or commercially). Have a strong vision of what exactly you want to describe with your music. Music is picturesque, the clearer your vision is, the more precise you will be with the atmosphere you create. It's not only about music. The whole appearance is important: texts, artwork, logo, name, production, the sound of the distortion used, vocals and the melodies/riffs are all equally important. It helps to find your very own and unique way if you think about these things before you even start with writing the first note. It helps if you have a clearly drawn picture in your mind you can dive into for creating music. For me, it was very clear to have a winter-concept already way before I had any name for the project. I always connected black metal mainly to Winter, that's the simple reason. I had a very strong vision of black metal and only got disappointed by the black metallers back in the time, so I had no other choice than transfer my vision into reality by myself.

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Follow Paysage d'Hiver on Bandcamp.

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Between the breakup of the Dillinger Escape Plan and the resurgence of Converge with the monstrously acclaimed The Dusk in Us, times are certainly not dull in post-hardcore. Within the context of such tumult, it’d be quite the feat for a rising band to release a crushing, impactful post-hardcore record poised to grip the ears and minds of listeners. It’s quite another feat to craft such an album, one relying so heavily on the weight of its instrumentation, with a sole guitar as the only melodic contributor. Through innovative songwriting as well as savvy production -- one guitar + three amps + oodles of pedals = two guitarists and a bassist -- the unsavorily named French trio Bind Torture Kill have birthed one of the genre’s most exciting and forward-thinking records in recent memory with their second full-length Viscères. As implied by the band’s morbid moniker, the music of Bind Torture Kill falls firmly on the blackened side of their genre: Viscères is filled with smoldering wickedness. Have a listen with an exclusive premiere of the album's penultimate track “Chacal" below.

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Bind Torture Kill's songwriting is ruthlessly efficient while also teeming with nuance, blending the rhythmic dexterity of System of a Down with the savage bleakness of genre contemporaries Lo!. After a brief intro showcasing the finesse of drummer Benjamin Garçon, the band plunges into a series of nimble riffs that are as furiously heavy as they are musically intriguing. Soon, as many post-hardcore songs do, the track transitions into a half-time breakdown. Even here, guitarist Yann Alexandre keeps things interesting with plenty of movement and syncopation under vocalist Olivier Alexandre’s piercing howls.

-- Ivan Belcic

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Bind Torture Kill’s impressively tight performances on “Chacal” carry over through the entirety of Viscères, which is set to release via WOOAAARGH on January 26th in both vinyl and digital formats.

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Black metal's future is a duality -- for every forward-thinking artist or band, there is another which looks to the fairly recent past (because let's be fair, 1986 wasn't that long ago). For a style so entrenched in history, black metal still desires an identity as it approaches the third decade of the new millennium. At least, if you don't ask purists who refuse to listen to anything past 1996. Elegiac moves forward with his eyes purely focused in the rear-view mirror. Reckless while driving, sure, but focusing -- at least musically, as Elegiac's visual approach is an awkward hodgepodge of various black metal aesthetics -- as a musician. People have lost sight of black metal's past, this stubborn, minimally-driven denial of metal's excess in favor of celebrating modern overindulgence. Music like Elegiac, whose Black Clouds of War is being reissued on Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum, is a refreshing exercise in this somehow antiquated riff-by-riff "backbone" style. Lyrical and bare-bones, sole musician Zane Young's approach is purely celebratory, but sharp and passionate, made by an artist who clearly feels very strongly about the latter part of second wave black metal. As such, there are no forests, no acoustic guitars, and no post-rock. All the weight carried on this album is purely content, wholly casting off the glut of manufactured atmosphere.

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Black Clouds of War will be released on CD via ATMF this Friday, January 12th. You can listen to the album in its entirety below.

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Follow Elegiac on Facebook.

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[caption id="attachment_59836" align="aligncenter" width="630"] photo by Allyson Foster[/caption]

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Entry Level is a new series where musicians re-examine the records that piqued their interests in heavy and loud music as children and young adults.

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Like most people, I heard about the whole Norwegian black metal thing before actually hearing any of the music. I lived in Olympia, Washington in the late 1990s and I spent every day working on recording, my own music and my friends, at Dub Narcotic Studio, part of the K record label building. I was immersed in music but probably mostly in a relatively narrow bubble of stuff that my immediate peers were making. There were some loud bands in Olympia at that time, great ones. Behead The Prophet No Lord Shall Live, KARP, C Average, Thrones, Enemymine, Hoodwinks, more. But it was all through the progressive Pacific Northwest lens of artistic creation and inclusiveness, even if it was all black and evil seeming. There was very little about it that was image-focused, mythological, or superficial. It was about music and community. Around 1998 or 1999, I was at work in the studio producing an album for K by Jason Traeger. He brought in the Lords of Chaos book, the tabloid-y exposé about the Norwegian stuff. I’d heard stories about it but this recording session, where I was primarily a monkey pressing record, stop, rewind, record for days on end, this was my opportunity to read the book, with one hand on the tape controller and one hand keeping the book open. Between takes Jason and I would laugh about details in it. I remember the picture of “It, the evil dwarf of Abruptum." This music scene seemed like such an exaggeration of anything I could relate to. It seemed so clearly just some unhappy teenagers in rich countries with conservative ideas going overboard with their normal teenage rebellion. I was a punk too, but in this feminist West Coast health food world. And plus, nobody wore costumes or thought too hard about the lore around their band, the promo photos, etc. These Norwegian teens seemed so intent on seeming the "evil-est." But instead of seeming just funny and extreme, it was deadly. The actual crimes in that book shifted the whole thing and made it actually, truly dangerous. Suddenly, these bands, whose music I still hadn’t ever heard, only seeing the black and white photos in the book, pre-Internet era, seemed like they must make some truly destructive and insane sounding music. Something so extreme I couldn’t even imagine it. I had been really interested in extreme music, but I guess not interested enough to do much research or exploration of the work of others. I’d heard the extremely quiet and sparse guitar playing of Loren "MazzaCane" Connors, and I’d heard the extremely long and minimal and loud music of Earth, and for extreme density my touchstone would have been My Bloody Valentine, I guess. Other than that, my curiosity took the form of studio exploration. I recorded 16 different takes of drums layered on top of each other, then bounced the tracks and continued to layer, trying to see the edges of maximal sound. I spend all of my time working towards discovering something new and more, something huger. I heard Popol Vuh’s song "Wewe Khorazin" from the Fitzcarraldo soundtrack and maybe that was the “biggest” thing I’d ever heard. I remember seeing a Burzum record in a record store in Vancouver around that time. It felt like finding a snuff film at the video store, like it was illicit material. Something legitimately dangerous. I didn’t even touch it. When I eventually heard Burzum for the first time, some years later probably, I was so surprised and underwhelmed. The thin shrieks and shitty songs did not match the mystique and extremity of the imagery and stories. But what could? I was still curious about this realm though, metal or whatever, and kept buying records. A conceptual art friend of mine was briefly into Sunn O))) (there’s some easy crossover with them and art school students) and I got really into their records and shows. In fact, they might be my favorite band. This was finally something truly extreme, something to match the idea I had in my head when reading about the teen criminals burning churches. But it was when I heard Subliminal Genocide by Xasthur that I felt like “ah, finally.” The immediate blast of 0 to 100% was so satisfying. The scream sounded legitimately like a throat being torn open over and over, but also beautifully like howling wind. The density of the music, the full spectrum, it was balanced perfectly and there was no room for any other sound or thought. It felt like total immersion in the sound, similar to the pleasantly oppressive feeling of watching Sunn O))) play.

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In a lot of ways, the defining aspect of this music for most people, its “evil”ness or whatever, is not something I think about at all. It seems so clearly a joke or a performance. Even with the early Europeans who killed each other, I don’t see them as evil but just confused and carried away. The black is just a costume. It’s Halloween. It’s cool, I love Halloween. But also honesty is important to me, and there’s something embarrassing and facetious about that performative darkness, living in it too much. And then in 2016 when my wife died of cancer, my perspective on this all shifted a little. It no longer seemed okay or fun to play around with ideas of death and sorrow. These are legitimate and serious things that shouldn’t be juggled around by young people who don’t actually have any experience with them.

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BUT: A week after she died, I organized a memorial for her in the old former church where I have a studio space. We cleared out the big room and cleaned the floor. People came from all over. We set up the PA, with the big subwoofer and everything. I set up some of the things from her drawing desk, a little diorama of her existence. There were flowers. Before anyone came into the building, as they milled around outside, I blasted the song “Prison Of Mirrors” by Xasthur as loud as it could go, deafening in the room as I stood in the middle of it with my eyes closed and head tilted back. Shredded screaming, extreme sorrow. Then the room felt ready. It felt like “ah, yes, this is the use of this music. This is the moment, once in a lifetime hopefully, or maybe never in a lifetime for people who are fortunate enough to avoid experiencing devastation like this, this is the moment where music this extreme can tear through the veil of the difficult present moment and reveal something beyond."

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Phil Elverum's works as The Microphones and Mount Eerie have received near-universal acclaim, peaking with last year's devastating A Crow Looked at Me. Weaving tender, folk-influenced music with drone, black metal atmospheres, and an adventurous ear for recording approaches, Mount Eerie's body of work embodies the furthest ends of extremity.

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After seeing Phish perform at Madison Square Garden and falling hypnotized to the band’s methodology, listening to San Francisco’s World Peace reminds me of the uncanny rituals which both bands utilize to move towards intimate connectivity. Though undoubtedly far removed in basic sound, both groups require similar timing to get their message (movement) across. World Peace is grind with bubbly speed. The ten songs on the band’s debut The Most Noble Impulse of Man, all hang around the 40-second mark (“Ascending the Bridge with Resolute Intent” is the only one over a minute). They total about a third of one of Phish’s live psychedelic jaunts. It’s funny, but both styles are actually about the same length in terms of totality, meaning they both succeed in establishing an honest and exact depiction in the elapsed time they construct. World Peace pulls from punk rock, hardcore, and grind, and has a modern way of capturing youthful angst. The mix is fast and filling -- the bass pure fury, accentuated and driving. Phish can be so just as aggressive in nature, but choose to give space to their outbursts, essentially rearranging time and impression. Similarly, The Most Noble Impulse of Man uses its time wisely, and in its own way. The songs are bouncy and explosive: hard metallic riffs that use feedback and speed as a way to pull from the ether and create immediacy. Chunky stomp-stuff fused with really brisk grind creates the foundation the band needs to attempt everything else. They don’t venture far, but when they do find that groove amidst the circle they weave, it’s pretty sweet, much like that shadowy fourth-dimensional structure Phish find amidst their extended travels. World Peace has a condensed and straightened message. They recall bands like Trash Talk and Expire, but with a nod to old-school grinders like Phobia. It’s hard not to feel the weight of direct impression, and as such, you’re apt to experience some simulation. So naturally, the band can feel familiar (but there’s some fresh vibes here). The Most Notable Impulse of Man is a nice escape, and should also make you think about your relationship with all your music.

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World Peace’s new album can be had on cassette through First Letter Press. Phish basically carved their reach with the analog nugget, and similarly, grind and punk bands' connection to tapes is of immediate importance, particularly with the possibilities of a restricted and taxed Internet.

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"Fast" Eddie Clarke, the last surviving member of Motorhead's classic lineup has passed away after being hospitalized with pneumonia. He was 67. A post on Motorhead's Facebook reads:

We are devastated to pass on the news we only just heard ourselves earlier tonight...Edward Allan Clarke - or as we all know and love him Fast Eddie Clarke - passed away peacefully yesterday. Ted Carroll (who formed Chiswick Records) made the sad announcement via his FB page, having heard from Doug Smith that Fast Eddie passed peacefully in hospital where he was being treated for pneumonia... Phil Campbell said, "JUST HEARD THE SAD NEWS THAT FAST EDDIE CLARK HAS PASSED AWAY. SUCH A SHOCK, HE WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR HIS ICONIC RIFFS AND WAS A TRUE ROCK N ROLLER. RIP EDDIE." Mikkey Dee said, "“OH MY FUCKING GOD, THIS IS TERRIBLE NEWS, THE LAST OF THE THREE AMIGOS. I SAW EDDIE NOT TOO LONG AGO AND HE WAS IN GREAT SHAPE. SO THIS IS A COMPLETE SHOCK. ME AND EDDIE ALWAYS HIT IT OFF GREAT. I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING HIM IN THE UK THIS SUMMER WHEN WE COME AROUND WITH THE SCORPS…NOW LEM AND PHILTHY CAN JAM WITH EDDIE AGAIN, AND IF YOU LISTEN CAREFULLY I’M SURE YOU’LL HEAR THEM, SO WATCH OUT!!! MY THOUGHTS GO OUT TO EDDIE’S FAMILY AND CLOSE ONES." Fast Eddie...keep roaring, rockin' and rollin' up there as goddamit man, your Motörfamily would expect nothing less!!! RIP FAST EDDIE CLARKE 5th October 1950 - 10th January 2018

Rest in peace, Eddie. Say hi to Lemmy and Philthy Animal for us. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieOaKk6slyw