by Niklas Göransson

Urkaos took form out of the primaeval chaos raging within Reverorum ib Malacht. From this crisis of faith sprang the genesis of Roman Catholic Black Metal.

 

EMIL LUNDIN: From its conception, “URKAOS” was meant to be supremely dark. While mixing it, Mikael and I considered the actual material brilliant, but the production wasn’t quite right. And then, after a lot of experimentation, we finally discovered that sound. Both of us literally saw – like a full-on vision – green moss and mould growing on the walls. I looked over at Mikael… ‘This is it. We have arrived.’

During the summer of 2006, REVERORUM IB MALACHT recorded “URKAOS” in a cabin owned by Emil’s family. The music is a further exploration of both the black metal elements from “What Do You Think of the Old God, We Call Him Judas?” and the ambient soundscapes on their second demo, “Den swenska gudstjensten”.

EMIL: Quite a few found the mix terrible. Objectively, they might be right, but I believe it possesses depth. I didn’t want to replicate “…Old God…”, which is why “URKAOS” has decidedly less reverb, though still more than most. The drums were meant to sound as if played in a coffin – an idea we got from Hinze (MORTUUS). As usual, we dubbed lots of guitars; but on “URKAOS”, I took things a step further by adding octaves to many of the riffs.

Adding octaves means recording another guitar track playing the same musical notes but at a higher or lower pitch. This technique enriches the harmony and can make a riff sound fuller and more powerful.

EMIL: I also bought a Behringer bass pedal, an affordable yet significant purchase. Suddenly, my bass sounded precisely as I wanted it to. Each instrument found its place in the mix. If you listen carefully, you’ll notice that the basslines are even lower than the kick drum, which cuts off at 80 Hz. The drum tracks are split into two channels, and I scooped out the mid-range – around 1000 Hz – to make space for the vocals.

The mid-range, spanning roughly 250 Hz to 2000 Hz, is crucial to a music mix as it encompasses the fundamental frequencies of the human voice and many instruments. Crowding this frequency range can result in a cluttered mix – so, by lowering the mid-range in the drums, Emil ensured that his vocals were heard more distinctly.

EMIL: I tried to sing, not just scream, despite not always being perfectly in tune. Singing to those guitars was hard because the notes were barely distinguishable. Plus, I had the flu. You can actually hear me searching for notes in my vocal delivery. The mix is basic CD quality at 16 bits, 44,100 Hz. Modern recordings have a better and more dynamic range – but even with these simple methods, we managed to carve out some breathing room.

 

“URKAOS” features lengthy ambient sections reminiscent of the electronic weirdness on “Den swenska gudstjensten”. The nineteen-minute-long and strikingly demented outro incorporates a variety of samples including an accordion, serial killers, and a female preacher.

EMIL: And a Muslim man, reciting the Quran. Or perhaps it’s a mu’azzin, a call to prayer. I don’t think we cared too much, it wasn’t originally my idea – Michael (Unknown Ikon) from EMIT found it provocative, and so did I. It fits perfectly. All lyrics were derived from texts I’d studied at university earlier in the year. Some are in Latin, taken from Apophtegmata Patrum, or Ökenfädernas tankespråk in Old Swedish.

The Apophtegmata Patrum, titled Sayings of the Desert Fathers in English, contains wisdom and anecdotes from early Christians, collected primarily around the 4^th and 5^th centuries. These monastic figures, known as the Desert Fathers, were hermits, ascetics, and monks who lived in the deserts of Egypt.

EMIL: I read many such texts as part of my Latin studies, and they deeply influenced me. Particularly what Augustine – one of the most influential early Christian theologians – discusses in Book 12 of Confessiones. His exploration of light and darkness is not just physical but also symbolic of knowledge, truth, and the divine versus ignorance, sin, and evil. It’s a syntactically unusual text, using infinitives as nouns in a way more akin to Classical Greek.

Some “URKAOS” texts came from Augustine, whose theories about an event from Genesis gave rise to the title. As such, “URKAOS” poses a theological inquiry into the origins of our universe and the role of divinity in creating order from chaos.

EMIL: At the time, everyone named their albums something with ‘chaos’. I wanted to point towards what came before – this concept of an arch-chaos, which must be God, whatever that means. I felt uncertain whether it should be ‘UR KAOS’ (‘Out of Chaos’) or ‘URKAOS’ (‘Primeval Chaos’). Regardless, I always used capital letters. Maybe it’s not so relevant now, but it was important to me then.

This concept goes beyond the traditional understanding of chaos as some kind of turmoil. Rather, it hints at a fundamental, underlying state from which order – in this instance, the cosmos – emerged.

“URKAOS” also features writings from Evangelium Nicodemi, which is part of an ancient manuscript that belonged to the Vadstena Abbey in Sweden, home to the largest library in Scandinavia during medieval times. Also known as the Gospel of Nicodemus, this document details Jesus Christ’s trial, crucifixion, and descent into Hell – subjects not extensively covered in the canonical gospels.

EMIL: It’s about the final days of Christ, specifically what he did after His death. The church’s official stance on this is unclear to me, but there’s some value in the idea that before His resurrection, Christ entered the realm of the dead to gather the righteous of the Covenant. This concept inspired the song “The Lord Is…” – with ‘Is’ being the operative non-predicative word. Those lyrics are from Evangelium Nicodemi; I own a medieval English edition, or rather, a copy of a translation.

 

Around the same time, Emil worked on his first bachelor’s thesis – a full translation and extensive commentary on a tractate from Codex Upsaliensis C 159, a manuscript of Latin treatises on asceticism dating back to the 1400s.

Titled De Gaudijs Justorum et de Poenis Malorum, or ‘About the Blessings of the Just and the Punishment of the Wicked’, the work Emil chose to study was handwritten in a script known as hybrid Gothic Anglicana.

EMIL: This 15^th-century handwriting style captivated me so much that I incorporated it into the “URKAOS” layout and logo. I was fascinated by archaic scripts, especially the younger Roman cursive used before the Carolingian Renaissance of the 9^th century. Realising that Latin had become too disconnected from the common vernacular, Charlemagne introduced the Carolingian minuscule, which is similar to our modern block letters.

Carolingian minuscule represents a significant stage in the development of written Latin; it’s characterised by more uniform and readable writing than the local pre-existing varieties of earlier periods.

EMIL: Before this, Roman chancery writing was completely unintelligible – on purpose. It’s super cool. Now, I do realise that obscure 15^th-century handwriting styles might not be very exciting for your readers, but they had a profound impact on me. I’ve even dreamt of younger Roman cursive appearing on my forearm: ‘Ego enim non solum ligari, sed et mori paratus sum pro nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi … in Jerusalem.’

This phrase, ‘I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the sake of our Lord Jesus’, originates from Acts 21:13 in the Bible. It is attributed to the Apostle Paul as he speaks to his followers, who worry about the dangers he’ll face in Jerusalem. Despite the risks, Paul expresses readiness to endure imprisonment or death for the sake of proclaiming his Christian faith.

Notably, Emil’s dream more closely resembled St Jerome’s citation of this phrase from one of his letters, rather than the original biblical source.

EMIL: If I ever were to get a tattoo, that would be it. The appeal stemmed from its unique expression of religiosity – one I had never encountered before. It conveyed a profound understanding of how to navigate one’s earthly existence, suggesting a wholesome way of living.

 

Emil’s engagement with ancient Christian literature culminated in a crisis of faith. Following a period of intense personal reflection and hardship, Emil accepted Jesus Christ as the Son of God and converted to Catholicism in December 2006. The print-exclusive REVERORUM IB MALACHT feature in Bardo Methodology #8 discusses this process at length.

EMIL: My ex-girlfriend was probably the most understanding – she finally realised what had been going on with me. My sister also welcomed it, saying, ‘At last, something positive!’ My father was more rational and challenging and immediately started debating me, bringing up typical criticisms of Catholicism, like the Pope’s wealth – clichés rooted in the Swedish educational system. Plus, he is the biggest antagonist I know.

Rarely have I been less surprised.

EMIL: I’ve noticed with a certain sense of trepidation that I’m becoming more like him with each passing day. My mother, on the other hand, grew concerned, wondering what was next – if I planned to become a monk. Something about religion made her skin crawl, so she wanted nothing to do with it.

Belfagor of OFERMOD recalled receiving a somewhat surprising ultimatum from Emil one day around this time.

EMIL: I called Mika (Belfagor) and told him I’d only continue making music together if we used Catholic lyrics exclusively. He made it clear that this was unlikely to happen, so I vacated my position in OFERMOD. Philip and I no longer collaborated, so DÖDFÖDD wasn’t an issue. He’d actually felt hugely relieved when I left Borlänge the year before.

Did he tell you this?

EMIL: Yes, after my conversion – albeit reluctantly, as Philip is not one to talk about emotions. At the same time, others in the scene were also questioning their lifestyles. People around me had started reflecting on their choices.

 

Mikael, Emil’s bandmate in REVERORUM IB MALACHT, converted to Catholicism shortly thereafter.

In May 2007, the duo’s own label, Ars Luminis Finis Temporis, announced that the recording of “URKAOS” had been completed. The music is described as a continuation of “What Do You Think of the Old God, We Call Him Judas?” – ‘yet more in the legendary vein of the 1350s Catholic Black Metal tradition.’ However, a new outro required recording.

EMIL: We thought the original outro sounded too dark, so we wanted to replace it with a piece played on acoustic guitars. The underlying idea was good, but the execution turned out rather poor. I lacked experience in recording that type of music, so the production quality was quite underwhelming.

The following month, Ars Luminis Finis Temporis posted a retraction of sorts, clarifying that their claim of belonging to the ‘1350s Catholic Black Metal tradition’ wasn’t entirely serious. Furthermore, the band – still anonymous at this point – casually adds that they are now Christians and distance themselves from orthodox black metal.

EMIL: The ‘legendary vein’ reference was a nod to the bio WATAIN had on their website around then; something about ‘orthodox black metal’ being ‘spawned out of Satan’s cunt’ and them performing ‘ancient traditional black metal’. We thought, ‘Ancient? Why not go medieval!’ So, it was a play on their wording – but with a genuine gist. The lyrics are derived from that tradition. We play Roman Catholic black metal; that’s the simple truth.

Honestly, considering the outrageous YouTube videos, fictitious members with elaborate backstories, and a generally provocative means of communication, it can be difficult to tell.

EMIL: I get that. But rest assured that I’m always truthful when it comes to matters of religion, or anything related. We’re serious about serious matters; the rest doesn’t need to be treated with such solemnity. I wasn’t ‘trolling’ – it was all true. Yet, there’s always an edge to everything I do.

There were no more updates from Ars Luminis Finis Temporis, and REVERORUM IB MALACHT went silent. “URKAOS” was not released as planned.

EMIL: I pondered whether to release the album and eventually decided against it. I already felt an immense sense of achievement and relief, like ‘I’ll never make anything that comes close to this. My work in black metal is finished.’ I found the result so exceptional that I listened to nothing but “URKAOS” for an entire year. Seriously. I considered it a magnificent achievement. For so long, I’d dreamt of creating the ultimate black metal music. In my view, “URKAOS” encapsulated that, to the best of my ability.

 

On the Passover night of 2008, between March 22 and 23 – just before his twenty-third birthday – Emil was baptised by a Jesuit priest, Pater Josef Höfner.

EMIL: No one from my family attended. I don’t think they realised how significant it was for me, even though I’d expressed as much. Pater Josef noticed my struggle and encouraged me to reach out at any time. We met regularly, and I confided fully in him. I told Pater Josef everything, even though it had already been forgiven in baptism.

Was it emotional support you sought?

EMIL: More than anything, I needed a face of forgiveness, Pater Josef came from a vastly different background, having joined the Order of Jesuits in 1991 and embraced a life of celibacy. His personal reassurance of forgiveness was incredibly important and formed a strong bond between us. It’s why I can discuss this so openly now.

Three months later, Emil was confirmed as Karl Hieronymus Emil Lundin.

The sacrament of confirmation – intended to deepen one’s commitment to the faith – often includes the bestowal of a Christian name, usually in honour of a saint. Pater Josef Höfner suggested ‘Hieronymus’ after Saint Jerome – a 4^th and 5^th-century Christian ascetic, priest, theologian, and historian best known for his translation of the Bible into Latin from Hebrew and Greek texts.

 

Having already obtained a Magister’s degree in Latin, Emil extended his academic journey by studying Classical Greek, leading to a Bachelor of Arts in 2009. But despite scholarly prowess, Emil couldn’t stop tormenting himself about his past.

EMIL: To this day, I consider my greatest sin – not that one should rank them – to be the darkness in my mind rather than any specific deed. It was a burden on my conscience. Many have committed worse acts, but I felt I excelled at being the worst. Today, I’m the opposite: the worst at being good. Since converting, I’ve tried to make amends with everyone I bullied or wronged. We had a class reunion, but one person I particularly wanted to apologise to didn’t show up. I should reach out to him. It still weighs heavily on me, that I’ve not done all I can.

To further distance himself from his former self, Emil vowed to lead a life of austerity. In retrospect, it seems he brought the fanaticism of his black metal days into this newfound pursuit of sainthood.

For extended periods, Emil slept on the concrete floor of his student apartment, cushioned only by a thin insulation layer. He’d rise in the middle of the night to pray. Adopting the medieval theological mentality of ‘the monk’s honour is his visible cheekbones’, he committed to hard-core fasting. In his quest for redemption and forgiveness, he chose the path of the ascetic.

EMIL: Studying dead languages involves a couple of lectures per week, with each session lasting a few hours. The rest is self-tuition. After the first year, there’s barely any in-person tutelage; you manage your own time. This, combined with my ideas about solitude and flagellation, led me to a period of intense introspection and prayer. I even asked Pater Josef to bring the Eucharist to my home so I wouldn’t have to attend mass.

The Eucharist, a central rite in Christian liturgy, symbolises Jesus Christ’s Last Supper with His disciples. It involves the consecration and consumption of bread and wine, representing Christ’s body and blood.

EMIL: Pater Josef strongly advised against this, which was probably wise. I tried to live mechanically, like a monk. Years later, I realised that trying to be an ‘everyday saint’, so to speak, is impossible for me. True trials come from God; sanctification is God’s work.

 

Amusingly, it was Emil’s decision to rid himself of his record collection that bridged a path back to black metal.

EMIL: I got acquainted with Sören (Sir N) from… well, numerous bands. First, I sold him some records, but then – feeling guilty about the prices I was charging – I wrote Sören a letter and gave away even more. Around that time, he visited me, and we decided to create some music together.

This recording, which has computer drums, is part of Emil’s gigantic archive of unreleased material.

EMIL: Afterwards, I was riddled with anxiety. ‘What are you doing? This is evil music!’ However, I realised that my fears were irrational and purely emotional. I had to overcome my own negative associations with black metal music. Gradually, this process became therapeutic; but for a long time, I lacked the motivation to record anything new.

For a brief period in late 2008, Emil lived in Gothenburg, where he shared an apartment with a friend who was studying to become a priest.

EMIL: He eventually joined the Order of the Jesuits but left after six years, before completing the initiation period. During my time in Gothenburg, I met a Polish priest named Kasimir, whom I referred to as the ‘turbo priest’. He was eighty years old, and I attended mass with him every morning. He read the liturgical texts extremely fast, in a dark, barely audible voice. He inspired the vocal style on “Demo 09”.

 

“Demo 09” – recorded in January 2009 as another collaboration with Sir N – marked the return of REVERORUM IB MALACHT.

EMIL: I’d been mulling over a new approach to creating music. I began using a sampler, specifically a Yamaha A5000 – the best model they made. We used it as an effect pedal along with a free EQ I found, creating a monastic-like atmosphere. My goal was to produce a record that sounded as religious as possible. I told Sören beforehand, ‘Look, we’re making Christian music. I’m a Catholic, and there will be no compromises.’ “Demo 09” wasn’t officially released but later ended up bootlegged.

Mikael, now baptised and confirmed as Karl Axel Mikael Ignatius Mårtensson, took no part in “Demo 09”, leading to the question of whether it might not have been more fitting as a DÖDFÖDD release.

In fact, prior to our conversation, Emil sent me a few early-2000s demo recordings initially intended for the DÖDFÖDD debut. I recognised some of the material on “Demo 09”.

EMIL: Really? Yes, you’re probably right. Some of the dissonant riffs, the parts played in halftones from each other, emerged out of those writing sessions – this is true. But as for DÖDFÖDD… at the time, I had reservations about using that name. Besides, MALACHT had been my creative focus from 2004 and onward, while DÖDFÖDD hadn’t recorded anything since 2002.

In the same month as he recorded “Demo 09”, Emil responded to a REVERORUM IB MALACHT interview from a fanzine called Serpent Bearer. Apart from the Ars Luminis Finis Temporis blog posts, this was the first time Emil spoke publicly since his Devilment appearance in 2005.

EMIL: I accepted the interview request on the condition that every word I said would be printed. The ‘zine editor was a bit taken aback by my twenty pages of answers, but he had already agreed. That’s where I revealed, ‘I’m the guy from DÖDFÖDD and OFERMOD, but now I’m a Catholic.’ I wrote the whole thing like a prayer, and it is extremely lengthy. I was trying to be conscientious – not to elevate myself but to be as honest as possible. It left no doubt about my faith.

What kind of response did you get?

EMIL: To be frank, I was ready to be killed by someone from the black metal scene. I earnestly believed there were people crazy and evil enough to do it, but I barely heard a word. One individual in northern Sweden accused me of betraying some kind of brotherhood, but that’s just nonsense.

 

A few months after “Demo 09” came out, Emil made an important new black metal connection: Johan Gustafsson, who later founded an underground label called Temple of Death, releasing works from OFDRYKKJA and ARDITI.

EMIL: Like me, Johan tends to develop these total monomanias when something catches his interest. Johan really liked “Demo 09”; he then read Serpent Bearer and found the interview so outrageous that he had to get to know the person behind it. I translated lyrics for him and intended to send them with an original copy of “Demo 09”, but it never happened. Much later, I gave him my full collection of unreleased work – an entire pile of CD-Rs – in recompense. He was very appreciative.

The same year, while at home in Dalarna, Emil apparently tracked over a hundred songs’ worth of drums.

EMIL: It sounds like a lot, that’s true – but it wasn’t an exaggeration. I haven’t counted them, but let’s do the maths; over six days, I recorded drums all day, divided into two sessions. I did at least twelve songs per day, so that lands us at around one hundred, maybe more.

Following Emil’s creative resurgence in 2009, he continued to explore various music projects, driven by a desire to keep innovating.

EMIL: That’s when I bought a semi-acoustic jazz guitar – the kind with f-holes. I mistakenly thought that’s what Euronymous used, but he actually had a Les Paul, which isn’t semi-acoustic. I also got my first multi-effect pedal: the Boss ME5. It has analogue distortion and a very distinctive sound. Simultaneously, a lot was going on in my life. People I knew were in and out of the psychiatric ward, others attempted suicide. One childhood friend of mine, Pöra, killed himself. Too many have died.