Black Metal: Evolution of the Cult

by Dayal Patterson

  The band would, however, release one last album that drew upon the genre—even if only in a small way—namely the expansive two-disc opus Themes from William Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, a highly progressive and experimental release which, as the name suggests, takes all its lyrics from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by Romantic poet and artist William Blake. While fans were by now used to radical shifts from the band, today the album stands as a clearly transitional work, pre-empting the band’s shift toward more mechanical territories.

  Now going by the name Trickster G. (a pseudonym whose urban overtones neatly complemented the vinyl scratching and drum & bass touches on the record), Kristoffer shared vocal duties with a number of guests, including Fenriz, and Ihsahn and Samoth of Emperor. Aismal had departed by this point, but the group had been joined by keyboard player and programmer Tore Ylwizaker, a musician who would play a significant role in the group’s future and its shift toward electronic territories. This shift would be more than evident on both 1999’s aptly named Metamorphosis EP and 2000’s Perdition City—Music to an Interior Film, an album on which Tore was the sole full member aside from Kristoffer himself.

  “We had [the first three albums] created in the mind from the start,” Kristoffer explains, “we never saw beyond the third one, so when I started the ‘black hybrid’ the lineup sort of disintegrated, primarily because Tore came in and could expand the vision in a way the others couldn’t. They sort of fell off as we did things they couldn’t really add much to. Also, in ’97, ’98 I just didn’t find metal very interesting any more, simple as that. I was being swayed by so many things from other places. The Blake album was a rite of passage of sorts, but it still had in its heart a lot of that [black metal] stuff. And that is why it was natural to get Ihsahn and Fenriz to read on top of it, because we were still there, in our hearts I suppose.”

  Kristoffer “Garm” Rygg of Ulver in 1995, circa Bergtatt—Et Eeventyr I 5 Capitler.

  The band has only increased in stature as the years have gone by, Kristoffer himself going on to work with numerous artists, both as a musician and owner of Jester Records, a label whose first release was Ulver’s aforementioned fourth album. While the majority of his output sits well outside the genre that originally made his name, Kristoffer’s relationship to black metal is perhaps not quite as hostile as one might imagine considering some of the statements made in the late nineties. Indeed, since that time he not only signed Norwegian act Nidingr to his label, but has also provided some surprising guest appearances with the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Borknagar (who he left as a member in 1997), and most surprisingly, Fleurety, whose Department of Apocalyptic Affairs album he not only sang on, but also co-produced, contributions that provide some (admittedly loose) links back to the black metal and even folk black metal genres.

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  THE PROLIFERATION OF BLACK FOLK METAL

  FOLK AND FOLKLORE IN BLACK METAL PART III

  FOLK AND VIKING black metal continued to reign in Norway throughout the nineties, the country giving birth to Einherjer, Kampfar, and Hades, the outfit formed by Jørn Inge Tunsberg following his departure from Immortal. Incorporating both folk and Viking influences in their epic demo Alone Walkying, Hades were soon signed by Full Moon Productions for their debut album, the equally well-regarded … Again Shall Be.

  Combining raw and searing black metal with some of the most rousing guitar work of the period, the heroic overtones and catchy riffs on … Again Shall Be echoed the work of many later Viking black metal bands. Lyrically, the combination of anti-Christian sentiment, heathen spirit, and national romanticism reflect the motivations behind Tunsberg’s physical attacks upon the church, though Hades’ members, like those of Enslaved, were careful not to commit to any pre-Christian faiths in a religious sense.

  “The interest hailed from our national history, but it was Bathory who inspired me to use pagan terms in Hades’ music,” Tunsberg explains. “I guess the inspiration had been there for a long time. I was fascinated by myths, ancient religions, [the] Middle Ages, and so on since my early school days, and enjoyed the stories told through movies, books, music and so on. We did a lot of research for our topics, but I never considered myself ‘religious’ at all. I believe I am anti-religious. You can say that I accept that religion is among us, but I don’t approve it to be sane!”

  The band’s next album (and in the opinion of many, including the band themselves, their best) was 1997’s The Dawn of the Dying Sun, written predominantly in prison while Jørn served his sentence for the 1992 Åsane Church arson. Songs such as “Pagan Prayer” betray the familiar lyrical fascinations, though the band would soon shift tack somewhat, with a more futuristic aesthetic and a progressive sound with industrial overtones accompanying a forced name change (to Hades Almighty, due to an American thrash band named Hades).

  While they came to the fore later, during the mid- to late nineties when folk’s influence upon black metal was beginning to wane, arguably the most enduring folk black metal band from Norway was Windir, an outfit founded by Terje “Valfar” Bakken. Though Windir’s two demos—Sogneriket and Det Gamle Riket, released in 1994 and 1995 respectively—revealed few folk inspirations, 1997 debut album Sóknardalr and its follow-up, 1999’s Arntor, drew upon folk influence almost as overtly as earlier Norwegian groups like Storm. At the same time, Windir offered a rather more accomplished and fluid experience than the groups that preceded them, eschewing rawness for melody and combining black metal and folk elements with apparent ease. The result was hopelessly catchy, upbeat anthems that were simultaneously undeniably epic and earnest.

  Though initially Valfar only used session musicians sparingly (impressively performing vocals, guitars, bass, synth and, unusually, accordion himself), after two albums he made the decision to expand the project into a full-fledged band. To do so he incorporated all five members of Ulcus (previously Ulcus Molle), the band of childhood friend Jarle “Hváll” and Jørn “Steingrim” Holen (the latter already an occasional drummer for Windir), who had already recorded an EP and full-length album of symphonic black metal.

  “We grew up as next-door neighbors so we met long before I can even remember—he and his brother Vegard were my main buddies alongside Steingrim who lived five hundred meters from us,” explains Hváll, whose hallway features many photos of the four men during their childhood years. “He felt like a brother to me, and I didn’t view him as a bandmate, but as a family member. We all got into Kiss through Valfar’s older brother when we were like five/six and from there it just evolved. Valfar was the first of us to get into black metal in 1992.

  “Valfar kinda felt [the project] was stagnating after the Arntor album,” he continues, “he wanted some new inputs and to get a live band up and running. I also felt that I was lacking something with Ulcus, and Valfar and me had talked about making music together. At first we considered making a new project, but we decided to continue under the Windir name, to develop what Valfar had started there. I love Sóknardalr, and thought it was fantastic when he released it, and Arntor is an absolute classic, with some of the most unique music ever made. A stroke of genius.”

  Working as a six-piece, the band would craft two more albums—1184 and Likferd (released in 2001 and 2003 respectively)—Valfar and Hváll each writing the lyrics and music to half the songs on each opus, Hváll bringing in unused ideas from Ulcus while Valfar made sure the individual songs sat within the Windir sound. Both superb efforts, the two albums saw the band’s songwriting expand considerably (perhaps their most famous number, “Journey to the End,” is actually dominated by an almost dance-like electronic closing passage), yet the folk black metal tag remained apt, even if it’s not one the members favored.

  “Folk music is something that we grew up with,” states Hváll. “When Valfar started to play accordion at a young age he became fascinated with old Norwegian melodies that had been used as hymns. The folk influence in Windir was mainly inspired by these hymns and the somber and depress
ing atmosphere found within them. He started to experiment with these dark, melancholic pieces of music, and gave them brand new life through his metal wrapping. It is at the backbone of most of the Windir music, and definitively gave Windir a unique sound. That said, I don’t see any connection to what people call folk metal these days. Most of it is totally useless crap, I can’t bear to even listen through a whole song. I hate the term folk metal, and so did Valfar. He did not want to be labeled as folk or black metal, so he named Windir’s music Sognametal, mainly to distance himself from any scene out there.”

  Viking days: Hades (now Hades Almighty); Jørn Tunsberg, Remi Anderson, Stig Hagenes, Janto Garmanslund.

  Distance, in fact, would play a significant part in shaping Windir, the group’s relative isolation and fascination with local heritage running deep throughout their work, “Sognametal” being a reference to the band’s home village of Sogndal. Lyrics and sleeve artwork drew heavily from the band’s locality, Arntor even featuring the unlikely sight of a tractor, highlighting Valfar’s rural inspirations.

  “The lyrics were based on the local history of Sogndal,” explains Hváll, who for a time worked teaching history. “To narrow it down, it was based around the ancient legend of the farmer Arntor from Sogndal. Valfar, Steingrim, and I all grew up within a three-hundred-meter distance, with all of our houses situated on what was once was the farm of Arntor. Arntor unleashed the greatest sea battle in Norway (the battle of Fimreite in 1184) when he stood up for the farmers and chopped off the head of the King’s taxman with an axe. The lyrics of Windir are a tribute to Sogndal and Norway, our nature, history and legends, with Arntor as the icon of all this.”

  Tragically, the lyrics of “Journey to the End” (“I embraced my vision, as it was common for me / A fate, a destiny, an inevitable early death”) would prove prophetic, and both Windir and Valfar were cut short in their prime when the band’s founder was caught in a snowstorm and died from hypothermia while traveling to his family’s cabin. He was twenty-five. The remaining members of Windir/Ulcus would continue making music, however, primarily through the prolific and equally historically inspired black- and folk-tinged thrash of Vreid, as well as melodic black metallers Cor Scorpii.

  Though Norway dominated folk black metal during the nineties, Ireland, another country with a rich history of folklore and folk music, also made something of a name for itself during this decade. Primordial, Cruachan, and Waylander are three respected Irish acts offering folk-influenced metal compositions, though it is undoubtedly Primordial who have maintained the closest relationship to black metal, to the extent that 1995 debut Imrama had only a few musical and thematic hints toward folk content.

  “Quite early on we realized we didn’t have much in common with early-nineties death metal,” explains vocalist Alan “A.A. Nemtheanga” Averill, who joined Primordial in 1991 and has fronted the band since then. “Unlike our peers we were more interested in Bathory, Celtic Frost, Sabbat and we basically wanted to make something that had some sort of resonance with our history and culture and had some sort of Irish feeling, this earthly melancholy, this mixture of blood and tragedy. We weren’t sure how to do it in the beginning as we were only sixteen but we sort of took a bit of Bathory, took a bit of the timing structures from Irish music, and just sort of merged them together.”

  The band’s debut was probably their weakest moment, but from 1998—and the release of A Journey’s End—onward the group would maintain an impressively consistent level of quality, merging folk and black metal with increasing ambition, forging tragic and melancholy epics while maintaining what could be described as a pagan/heathen outlook, a stance present even in Imrama.

  “I think within the band back then I think I would have been more interested in pan-European history and the occult,” Averill ponders, “and the other guys were pulling toward the druidic or shamanistic… ‘Celtic mysticism’ to get all airy fairy. We were pushing in different directions, which is why [Imrama’s] ‘Awaiting Dawn’ has reference to Lucifer, while the first song is written in Irish and is sort of a hymn to pre-Christian Ireland. I’m actually careful about using the word ‘pagan’—because what does it mean beyond being a Roman insult of a word for someone that dwells on the land?—and I use the term ‘pagan metal’ very loosely—only two or three songs on the last current albums have anything to do with that, the rest is based in the here and now. I’m not really interested in writing fantastical hymns to mythological warriors doing heroic deeds who never really existed when there are far more relevant things to write about.”

  As the singer suggests, the history of Ireland has become much more of a focal point for Primordial than any particular theological position. Songs such as “The Coffin Ships” on 2005’s The Gathering Wilderness album highlight this, remembering the disease-ridden ships that carried immigrants escaping the Great Irish Famine, ships that on average claimed a third of the passenger’s lives. A similar direction was maintained on the critically acclaimed follow-up To the Nameless Dead (2007) and the equally impressive Redemption at the Puritan’s Hand (2011), which both helped break the band to a wider audience via the sizable Metal Blade Records.

  Still, while Primordial may certainly draw heavily from their country of origin, Averill is keen to highlight the broad scope of his lyrics and their wider relevance to the human condition. “Primordial was never exclusively about being Irish,” he assures. “There should be universal themes that you can tap into no matter where you’re from which maybe makes us more of an everyman band, people from anywhere can see themselves in the themes. There are plenty of [non-Irish] bands I feel a common bond with—Enslaved, Negură Bunget,’ Drudkh, Ancient Rites—bands who have tried to sidestep the clichés and bring in an element of their relationship with their culture and history. That’s what we always wanted to do, and we generally dwelt on the dark aspects of it. There’s a lot of bloody passages of Irish history to draw on but I never wanted to say, ‘This song is singularly about being Irish.’ These are songs about sacrifice, redemption, alienation, martyrdom—things you should be able to feel wherever you’re from.”

  As the years have gone by, the musical hybrid that is folk black metal has spread worldwide, finding particular resonance in Eastern European territories. This isn’t entirely surprising, of course: not only is folk music still very popular generally within these territories, but there is also something of a political dynamic in place. The contemporary utilization of traditional folk music often implies a longing for the past, a romanticizing of times gone by, something nationalist movements tend to favor. As we have seen, Eastern Europe is home to many bands from NSBM and surrounding scenes and many draw heavily upon folk influences, most notably Poland’s Graveland, Russia’s Temnozer, and Ukraine’s Drudkh, Kroda, and Nocturnal Mortem.

  Of course folk influences and an Eastern European background certainly don’t necessitate political views, as bands like Latvia’s Skyforger and Romania’s Negură Bunget highlight. The latter—alongside Dordeduh, the outfit formed when the band split into two camps in 2009—have proven a particularly fascinating entity whose folk leanings are unusually forward-thinking. Indeed, both Negură Bunget and Dordeduhs’ use of traditional ethnic instruments has been as much a subversion of traditional musical values as an homage to them.

  “Musical instruments can transcend the concreteness of physical space,” explained Edmond “Hupogrammos” Karban (then frontman of Negura, now Dordeduh) rold me in an interview for Terrorizer in 2008. “The traditional instruments we use—panpipes, flutes, a wood percussion instrument called ‘toaca, xylophone, pipes known as ‘tulnic’ in Romanian, a large drum called ‘duba,’ timbales, various woodwind instruments—were born from a need to express vibes emanating from this land. Negură Bunget uses these folk instruments more like an experiment. We are definitely not a band interested in using them in a traditional way. From the perspective of a musician, every instrument has its own emanation, its own vibe and its own way to express the
vibes of the land that it is coming from. Some instruments can provide an intense traditional touch, others are more applicable in non-traditional contexts. I always felt that the full potentiality of the traditional instruments from my country had not been explored.”

  Negură Bunget in 1995, back when they were still called Wiccan Rede and wore corpsepaint. Photo courtesy of Negru.

  Within these groups then, the use of ethnic instrumentation is not a reference to the past but an attempt at breaking away from tradition and pre-established musical patterns. “In Romanian traditional music these instruments are used in a very strict and conservative way. There is not too much diversity in their use and many of these instruments are unable to provide many technical possibilities to the musician, so the potential for expression is limited. But the biggest disadvantage is that these instruments have been used in the same context for decades, which is becoming boring already. There are not too many things left to express in this field. This is why we are not really trying to use these instruments in their known contexts. Personally speaking, I was never really a big fan of traditional music. I think to a certain extent this could be seen as an advantage because one could have the opportunity to use all these traditional instruments in an unconventional way.”