by Niklas Göransson

In 2004, a phantom requiem from a dream planted the seeds of Swedish black metal band Reverorum ib Malacht. Meanwhile, Emil Lundin was brought into the Ofermod fold, participating in the infamous Pentagrammaton recording.

 

EMIL LUNDIN: As a child, I had a Winnie the Pooh audiobook on tape. One night, I listened to it while falling asleep, only to be woken up by the most evil-sounding racket I’ve ever heard. Presumably some kind of white noise, but that’s not how I heard it. It’s hard to separate dream from reality, but I remember feeling convinced that a sinister entity – perhaps the Devil himself – lurked in there. This became profoundly formative for my musical expression.

In late 2003, Emil and Philip worked on what was supposed to be DÖDFÖDD’s debut album. By then, the riddle of how to properly infuse metal music with menacing ambiences had become almost like a fixation for Emil.

EMIL: My constant challenge was to make truly evil metal, but nothing ever sounded dark or twisted enough. Even when generating white noise, I heard it as prolonged waves from the Big Bang – a part of Creation. ‘What is evil? And how do we create something that sounds accordingly?’ I knew about Diabolus in Musica. It’s not perceived the same today due to different musical temperaments in tuning, but I tried to incorporate it.

The Devil’s interval, or tritone, is a dissonant musical interval spanning three whole tones, such as from F to B. Infamous for its tension-inducing sound, it was largely shunned in early Western music, particularly during the Middle Ages and Renaissance periods – hence the diabolical moniker.

EMIL: I already had my doubts regarding DÖDFÖDD’s third demo, “Besvärjelse för omvänd recreation”. ‘Lame’ might be an oversimplification, but all these extensive solo leads made it sound very musical – almost soulful. In essence, far too human. Besides, the creative process felt unaligned with the concept of a destructive god. On the upside, this phase led me to explore many of the dissonances I still use today. Philip wrote a lot of great material that he can no longer play.

 

Emil and Philip were drifting apart, as the latter gradually lost interest in black metal. Instead, Emil befriended Mikael, who had previously been on the periphery of their social circle. In the more personal DÖDFÖDD/REVERORUM IB MALACHT interview in Bardo Methodology #8, Emil said, ‘I soon realised that this was a seriously disturbed individual who was at least as crazy as me.’

EMIL: Mikael had just begun making music and played me some of his work. When we decided to collaborate, I’d been looping on a specific concept. How should I explain… like, sitting lost in thought, I can freeze in my perception and just stare ahead blankly. Imagine stretching out a soundwave – you get a delayed latency, ‘DDRRRRR’. It’s hard to describe. But I wanted to convey that feeling through music. I was also experimenting with drum trances.

Shamanic drumming has historically been used by various cultures for ritualistic purposes. The repetitive beats are believed to facilitate a shift in consciousness, allowing practitioners to access deeper levels of awareness.

EMIL: Our ambition was to create a demo where every song induced a drum trance, but it didn’t really work out. We listened to the whole thing on repeat to test its efficacy – but after a few times, I felt done with it. However, a year or so later, I found out that Mikael had gone home and listened to it non-stop for three days, which really showed what level he was at.

The first official music piece Emil and Mikael created together was an outro for British black noise band EMIT’s debut album, “A Sword of Death for the Prince”. This collaboration grew into what we now know as REVERORUM IB MALACHT.

 

Around the same time, Emil began placing greater emphasis on his dream life.

EMIL: During my upper secondary school days, I kept a dream diary. I was so engrossed in all this that, at times, sleeping felt more compelling to me than being awake. I’ve kept those writings and recently revisited them; the contents are predominantly bizarre and twisted dreams.

On September 18, 2004, Emil had a dream so profound that it upended his musical existence. Set in a church, it featured five spectres playing a requiem for a young girl. Immediately upon waking up, Emil recorded the song as he remembered it. The result was a thirty-four-minute ambient track he named “Path to Yirah”– ‘The Path to Fear (of God)’.

EMIL: It was more than just a dream; I entered some kind of all-encompassing synesthetic awareness. The hymn I heard became the guiding principle for how my music should sound. I’d started tiring of distorted guitars. Worth noting is that I’d used the same multi-effect since ’99 – it was on all DÖDFÖDD recordings. I’ve always tried to approach the guitar as a string instrument, focusing on sweeping and more emotive elements.

A few weeks later, still inspired by the dream requiem, Emil recorded another song in the same vein: “Of the Devil’s Seed”, later released as “Christ’s Dawn”.

EMIL: This marked the definite beginning of REVERORUM IB MALACHT, a completely new way of mixing and making black metal. I still think that song – with its somewhat metal-influenced classical instrumentalisation – is a lot darker than most else. It was also my first music production made from hundreds of different sound samples.

What kind of audio software did you record with?

EMIL: I used a free version of n-Track Studio. It was a nightmare – every EQ adjustment prompted a ‘You’re using freeware’ pop-up, and I had to click ‘OK’. Opening a song project meant clicking ‘OK’ hundreds of times, once for every imported setting. Absolutely maddening.

That’s when Emil upgraded his home studio with a new mixer, a Phonic MU1822, which opened up a wealth of new possibilities. Prior to this, he tracked drums through a PA in mono – meaning a single audio channel. Now, connecting the mixer to the input on his computer soundcard, Emil could record guitar and drums in stereo.

EMIL: I used eight mics for the drums, creating a fuller soundscape with things like tom rolls in stereo width. This wasn’t a post-mix process; rather, everything was tracked live through two channels from the mixer. Destructive editing. I’d add some bass, then try again, and that’s how we recorded. Very primitive by today’s standards, but it was a significant investment for me at the time.

The mixer acquisition continued the direction staked out by Emil’s dream hymn and led to even further innovation.

EMIL: It had various built-in effects, and that was my first encounter with what I perceived to be real high-quality digital reverb. It had a Send function, allowing me to control the settings for each mic. I could keep the bass drum relatively dry while flooding the snare with reverb. I also discovered that one can achieve certain effects by removing the treble.

Replacing the higher frequencies with ample reverb eliminates some of the sharpness, making it sound more ethereal and ambient. For example, in a church setting, the natural reverb and lack of treble tones contribute to the solemn, reverent atmosphere.

EMIL: The first time I tried it, I used delay instead of reverb, resulting in an almost ecclesiastical sound. My new concept revolved around trimming the treble and superseding it with copious amounts of reverb – a decisive shift from conventional metal. It was an entirely distinct direction. Still influenced by Aphex Twin, I also attempted to use my guitar more as a sampler.

Aphex Twin – a British musician known for his pioneering work in electronic music, ambient, and experimental techno – was Emil’s childhood favourite. His musical path ran from Aphex Twin and NIRVANA to Marilyn Manson and then further onto MAYHEM, which is why Emil has no appreciation for classic metal.

EMIL: Meanwhile, the orthodox black metal bands just sounded like humans playing guitars. I wondered, ‘Can’t this be disrupted somehow?’ Everyone despised drum machines, but I’ve always appreciated their inhuman sound. Nowadays, I no longer regard being human as a flaw – but to innovate, one must step beyond the limitations of our species.

I think drum machines are a bit like AI art – it’s just not as appealing, knowing there’s no effort behind it.

EMIL: Perhaps, but some artistic visions are unattainable by human performance alone, and why should physical constraints hinder anything? Just take the invention of the synthesiser; it was like, ‘Now we can play basslines no one has ever heard before.’ I can find some value in that concept. Never limit yourself when aiming to create extreme music – there are always ways to discover something new.

 

In Philip’s absence, Emil invited J.K. of MORTUUS to join DÖDFÖDD. In October 2004, the two of them took a Stockholm-bound train to see DISSECTION’s ‘The Rebirth of Dissection’ show. This was the first time Emil travelled out of town for a black metal concert.

EMIL: Well, I doubt even Jon himself would call that a ‘black metal concert’. DISSECTION played heavy metal – and since I’m not really into that genre, I didn’t watch much of the show. But I have listened to a lot of DISSECTION in my days; Philip was a big fan. I bought “The Somberlain” a few years earlier on the recommendation of someone from MAGOG.

MAGOG was a black metal band from Borlänge – the same town as DÖDFÖDD and SORHIN – that released a few demos in the early 2000s. The violinist of Emil’s first metal project, NAUGLAMIR, had an older brother who played with MAGOG.

EMIL: Initially, I thought the true brilliance of “The Somberlain” was how Jon used the same riff in almost every song. Then I realised they were different riffs – just very similar-sounding. Today, I can appreciate its technical writing and beautiful arrangements; the way his melodies interweave and build upon each other is impressive, but they don’t stir any emotions in me.

Why did you even bother going?

EMIL: I suppose attending the concert was interesting both as some kind of micro-historical event and as an opportunity to meet a few black metal personalities from Stockholm. I believe we went there with Axel (Acerbus) from ONDSKAPT.

Following the concert, J.K. accompanied Emil to Borlänge for DÖDFÖDD rehearsals.

EMIL: Johannes (J.K.) and I felt confident that we could create a better black metal song in fifteen minutes than other bands achieved in a lifetime. And we did. Musically, at least – lyrics written in fifteen minutes are not necessarily first-rate prose. We jammed quite a bit and recorded some of it; I still have everything. However, our focus soon shifted as we were recruited by Stockholm bands.

Towards the end of 2004, J.K. and Emil were both invited to join ONDSKAPT. By then, Emil had just started his part-time Latin studies in Uppsala, about forty minutes from Stockholm.

EMIL: After my classes, I took the train to Stockholm to meet Axel. He lived with his mother, and I was surprised to see him thanking her for dinner and acting generally polite; it seemed a bit contradictory to me. I couldn’t understand how he reconciled that with his religious convictions.

Did you behave differently?

EMIL: Oh yes, I did all kinds of immature stuff, like never saying thanks. I had rather strict ideas about personal conduct. Anyhow, that’s how we became friends. A wild evening, as I recall; I don’t know if he’s changed since, but at the time, Axel wasn’t exactly abstinent from alcohol. He invited me to play guitar in ONDSKAPT, and Johannes was brought in on bass. But the collaboration never materialised, as both of us ended up joining OFERMOD instead.

 

After several years of destructive living and time served in prison, OFERMOD mastermind Belfagor made a return to music in 2004. When he contacted Emil in November of that year, the band consisted only of Belfagor and Tore Stjerna – the former drummer of FUNERAL MIST who also ran Necromorbus Studio.

EMIL: I went to Stockholm for an audition of sorts. I’d brought a tape deck with me, so there’s a reasonably good rehearsal cassette from that session. For his new material, Mika (Belfagor) had initially envisioned a more MORBID ANGEL-esque death metal sound; I really liked his song arrangements. I remember an instrumental track that was excellent.

Around Christmas in 2004, OFERMOD entered Necromorbus Studio to record two new tracks – “Khabs am Pekht” and “Rape the World” – meant as bonus material for the reissue of their 1998 “Mystérion Tés Anomias” EP.

EMIL: I didn’t see the necessity of including “Rape the World”; it was essentially just B-side filler. To be honest, I have clearer memories of the Latin grammar I studied at Necromorbus than what we actually recorded. I had exams coming up, and I distinctly remember translating Sallustius from Latin in the studio lounge. I commuted between Stockholm and Uppsala, often arriving at class hungover and sleep-deprived.

The “Mystérion Tés Anomias” reissue was released on both CD and vinyl by NoEvDia in March 2005.

 

The first official recording session for REVERORUM IB MALACHT occurred that summer. By building further on the dream requiem, Emil and Mikael had discovered a quintessential new black metal sound. The demo, “What Do You Think of the Old God, We Call Him Judas?”, was released on cassette through their own label, Ars Luminis Finis Temporis.

EMIL: Despite growing increasingly disillusioned with the scene, I never abandoned my idea of developing a genuine religious expression using black metal instrumentation. That sound I stumbled upon in my dream sparked numerous developments. But listening to “…Old God…” now, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what came from my discovery. The songs even feature what I referred to at the time as ‘NIFELHEIM riffs’, because they’re like…

Emil lifts a guitar off the wall and strums a chord.

EMIL: Good Lord, this is completely out of tune. It doesn’t hold intonation in the heat; I can’t play it in such a condition. Let me try this one instead; I used it for recording just the other day. <grabs another guitar> Okay, here we go. I believe I played in E on “…Old God…”, but it’s these types of riffs…

Emil plays something reminiscent of the “What Do You Think of the Old God…” title track.

EMIL: I mean, what the hell is that? Terrible. However, with the “…Old God…” production, it sounds halfway decent. Because it’s not just about crafting riffs; we’re composing music. And music is a blend of sounds. To sum it up, my most significant revelation – evolving in part from all our experimentation – was the supreme importance of a proper mix. Before this, I’d find a good guitar tone and then try to write fitting riffs.

Isn’t that a rather novel approach in and of itself?

EMIL: Perhaps not novel, but at least a method of composing that wasn’t typically used. Instead, you’d enter the studio and have no choice but to go along with the preferences of your engineer. But now it was more, like, ‘Okay, forget about riffs – let’s create ominous sounds.’ I’ve never articulated or even considered it in this way before, but I believe that was my primary revelation.

What adjustments did you make to the mix?

EMIL: The guitars were doubled in stereo, with the panning set around thirty-two per cent to the right and left. I also reduced the bass and treble frequencies on the guitars. The bass has so much reverb it’s almost redundant. You see, adding lots of reverb while keeping the treble results in that MYSTICUM-like hiss, which then has to be masked by cymbals. And that’s not particularly exciting in the long run.

Poor reverb can amplify and prolong high-frequency sounds such as treble, causing an undesirable hissing noise. Cymbals blend with the hiss, making it less noticeable but risk cluttering the audio spectrum.

EMIL: So, when combatting this issue by lowering the treble, you won’t need additional high-frequency elements like cymbals – which, in turn, allows you to hear your own thoughts while listening to the music. In truth, “…Old God…” isn’t particularly impressive – the songs are rather peculiar and hold some historical listening value, but it’s not something I’d necessarily release now.

 

By force of necessity, the new project maintained an anonymous lineup.

EMIL: Mika (Belfagor) believed – and I wholeheartedly concur – that if you were part of OFERMOD, then it should be your sole band association. I thought, ‘Fair enough.’ So, we had to keep MALACHT clandestine, which is why there were no names on the actual release. Then again, I can be seen in the nude on the cover of “…Old God…”, but no one knew it was me.

I remember that artwork from when the demo came out. It was striking then, and it remains the same today.

EMIL: Initially, the cover was meant to be black and white. I printed a mock-up at a friend’s place; she had run out of dark ink, so it came out in shades of yellow and pink. I found this strangely ingenious. I went home thinking, ‘Maybe this can be recreated?’ So, I played around with Photoshop until I figured out how to do it.

Emil had discovered the gradient map function, which allows for introducing a range of colours to a black-and-white image.

EMIL: I thought having a pinkish cover would be brilliant – especially since light blue and pink shirts were trendy in Sweden at the time. It was the most distasteful thing I could think of, but I managed to turn the ugliest shit in the world into something good.

Were the photos taken on location in the cemetery, or was that also done in Photoshop?

EMIL: Mikael and I spent Midsummer Eve that year running around the cemetery naked. Both of us are depicted in the demo layout. I’d received a digital camera as a graduation gift, so we used it to take numerous photos. That’s me on the front cover, with my grandfather’s coffin in the background. The music also contains samples from his funeral service.

Wow.

EMIL: I know. To be perfectly honest, I find this somewhat reprehensible today. What can I say? Those were dark times. My grandfather fell down the stairs and passed away at the age of eighty-nine. That was one of those moments where I had a premonition of something happening – and sure enough, it came to pass. But in reality, this probably wasn’t as occult as I made it out to be.

 

This premonition is mentioned by Emil in a REVERORUM IB MALACHT interview with Devilment Zine. He added that a voice came to him during the same meditation session, saying ‘Vad har du för åsikt om den gamle guden, vi kallar honom Judas?’ – ‘What do you think of the old god, we call him Judas?’.

EMIL: Again, I wouldn’t attach too much importance to this; it was probably just incoherent babbling from the mind. I approach these matters more rationally now, but there’s no denying that these voices in my head have played a crucial role. Most MALACHT titles emerged in such fashion. Like, ‘Yes, that’s what it shall be named.’ The same voice informed me that Belfagor was an ‘apostate from the Pope,’ which made me somewhat sceptical about him. But the demo title poses a perplexing question, and I’ve yet to formulate a definitive answer.

Would the ‘Old God’ reference to Judas make sense in a Gnostic context?

EMIL: Some have suggested this. Sure, it’s possible – whatever the Gnostics were, we have very limited knowledge of them. But neither the Monad nor the Demiurge is referred to as Judas, so it doesn’t match up. I assume people are referencing the Gospel of Judas, but that one is too recent.