by Niklas Göransson

Born into a strict Catholic environment in Nebraska, Nameless Void’s childhood was a balancing act between religion and a growing obsession with metal. In 1999, taking a leap of faith, he moved to Florida and eventually formed Negative Plane.

 

NAMELESS VOID: As a kid, I heard a lot of hard rock on the radio – bands like BOSTON, HEART, SCORPIONS, and PAT BENATAR. Just whatever happened to be playing, really. I’d say my introduction to metal came through METALLICA; their ‘Black Album’ had just come out and seemed to be everywhere.

METALLICA’s self-titled 1991 record, widely known as the ‘Black Album,’ marked their shift towards a more accessible and polished sound. With hits like “Enter Sandman” and “Nothing Else Matters”, it brought thrash metal to a massive audience.

NAMELESS VOID: For many metalheads of my generation, especially in the States, METALLICA served as the gateway; they were the biggest band around. At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of them, but then a friend got me a copy of “Ride the Lightning”, which absolutely floored me. That album changed my life.

Born in 1979, Nameless Void grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. His mother was a devout Catholic and raised him accordingly, including weekly church attendance.

NAMELESS VOID: Sundays just sucked ass for me. And then there were the holy days of obligation: mandatory church services on specific feasts. Mainly, I remember a lot of rules, a lot of sitting down and standing up – a very, very rigid structure. Really depressing and boring. They also had what’s called CCD, or Confraternity of Christian Doctrine.

The Confraternity of Christian Doctrine is a religious education program designed to teach Catholic children the tenets of the faith. Held on weekday evenings, these ‘catechism classes’ focus on the Bible, sacraments, and church traditions.

Although Nameless Void did not retain much of the actual teachings, some elements of the Mass appear to have found their way into his music – from the use of organs to that ‘cathedral’ or ‘church-like’ sound often mentioned in reviews.

NAMELESS VOID: Once in a while, my parents would take me to larger churches with big halls for midnight mass and such. There would be these choirs all echoed out and everything; I’m sure all this had a subconscious impact, although I certainly didn’t appreciate it then. I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

It must have been difficult to navigate an obsession with metal music in this milieu.

NAMELESS VOID: It was a balancing act. My parents judged albums individually – some were acceptable, others weren’t. BLACK SABBATH, for example, got outright denied. I even showed them the lyrics from “Master of Reality” – like, ‘Look, there’s Christian stuff here, so it’s okay! I can listen to this, right?’ But no, it didn’t work. With bands like SLAYER, DEICIDE, and MORBID ANGEL, I didn’t even try. I just hid those.

How did you even get hold of such records?

NAMELESS VOID: Well, in the suburbs, you’d earn money doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood. I never had a paper route or anything, but I’d mow someone’s lawn, and they’d give me $10. Other times, when I couldn’t afford anything, I’d just shoplift tapes <laughs>.

Did Omaha have any decent record stores?

NAMELESS VOID: There was this place in a basement that sold second-hand cassettes for about two bucks; super cheap. I’d grab stuff purely based on the name or the logo. I remember finding bands like SODOM – ’Oh, killer cover. Let me get that.’ MASTER’S HAMMER? ‘Sounds cool.’ DESTRUCTION? ‘Great name, too.’

Discovering metal stoked Nameless Void’s adversarial inclination – a natural rebellious streak that manifested as a fascination for anything associated with the Devil.

NAMELESS VOID: Metal gave me a blueprint. ‘Look at these bands praising all the stuff you’re not supposed to mention or even think about. It felt like being granted permission to explore that side of things, especially as I came across more overtly Satanic music. I remember thinking, ‘This is really, really exciting.’ Everything they told me to avoid, I just couldn’t get enough of.

 

When you began playing guitar, had your parents come to terms with your interest in metal?

NAMELESS VOID: Um, not really. I mean, my mom and dad did the best they could. As a parent, you don’t want to see something bad happen to your kid – and if you believe fully in Christianity, you’re gonna think this kind of path leads to eternal damnation. At the same time, they could see how much I loved music and how badly I wanted to play guitar.

In 1995, at age fifteen, Nameless Void’s parents allowed him to take guitar lessons.

NAMELESS VOID: My guitar teacher would ask, ‘What do you wanna play?’ And I’d say, for example, ‘I want to learn “War Pigs” by BLACK SABBATH!’ First, he’d show me the riffs and then say, ‘By the way, these are pentatonic scales, which are what Tony Iommi uses. If you practice those, it’ll help this make more sense.’ Honestly, that approach worked really well for me.

Nameless Void has previously mentioned that his restless nature and tendency to bypass the proper order led him to focus on leads before mastering rhythm guitar. Listening to his body of work – often described as lead-oriented – this unconventional approach seems to have left a lasting imprint.

NAMELESS VOID: Well, I did learn some rhythm guitar. My teacher gave me a few scales, but I didn’t stick to the correct methods or practice routines. Eventually, I just started messing around. I’d get used to where my fingers would land, and as long as the notes sounded good together, it worked.

On a guitar, notes are laid out in a way that encourages intuitive movement through scales or chords. To transition smoothly from one point to another, guitarists often pass through intermediate notes, creating a progression.

NAMELESS VOID: You’re not skipping notes – you’re hitting them as you go. Over time, I’d think, ‘Here’s the beginning, here’s the end. Let me play these notes along the way.’ Eventually, you fall into patterns that usually sound good. And if you can do it quickly… well, that’s a guitar lead.

His impatience wasn’t limited to guitar; Nameless Void has previously expressed some regret about abandoning piano and clarinet early on.

NAMELESS VOID: They taught me what notes are. Even before I started playing guitar, I’d think, ‘Okay, this is an E.’ I already loved minor keys and things like that – I knew what those were thanks to piano and clarinet. So, yeah, for sure they had an influence. Without them, I doubt my approach to guitar would be the same.

What advice would you give to someone balancing formal lessons with self-teaching, particularly when it comes to finding their own style?

NAMELESS VOID: Well, I don’t know if I’m really in a position to advise anyone, but I’d say you should learn some of the rules before you start breaking them. That’s how it worked for me. When I first began, my playing was too rigid – just copying what other bands were doing. Hm… God, I wish I had a clear answer for how to overcome that, but I don’t.

Does any one thing that helped come to mind?

NAMELESS VOID: Actually, yes. Once I was decently technical, I went back to the drawing board, thinking, ‘Okay, now let’s find the most primitive, amateurish, and nasty black metal available’. I started approaching things from that angle – while retaining everything I already knew. Essentially, I went from playing wild solos to learning HELLHAMMER’s demo songs.

Though not intentionally primitive, the three 1983 demos released by Swiss proto-black metal band HELLHAMMER are masterclasses in raw simplicity.

 NAMELESS VOID: Once people become decent musicians, they tend to box themselves in, thinking, ‘I only wanna play things that show off how good I am.’ They’re afraid to strip it back. For me, returning to simple, two-note riffs made everything better and changed the whole way I relate to music. Like, ‘I know I can do advanced stuff, but this is still awesome.’

 

In a 2022 Bardo Methodology interview, Nameless Void described himself as having an obsessive personality and a tendency for tunnel vision. Considering the level of skill he achieved as a young guitarist, these traits clearly worked to his advantage.

NAMELESS VOID: Sure – but then again, I grew up in the Midwest. There just wasn’t anything to do there, at least for someone like me; I wasn’t into sports or any of the typical stuff, and I didn’t take school very seriously. So, I really had nothing else going on.

But you didn’t try to start your own band?

NAMELESS VOID: I wanted to but had neither the confidence nor vision – no riffs, no songs, nothing. One day, my guitar teacher suggested, ‘Why don’t you try joining an existing band?’ which hadn’t even occurred to me. But he planted that thought in my mind, and thankfully, he did it early enough.

Were you aware of any local metal acts?

NAMELESS VOID: No. But at that point, I didn’t really care what music; I just wanted to play. I didn’t have anything figured out, yet aimlessly tried to make it happen. I auditioned for a few local bands – all of whom said no. After about three and a half years of this, I gave up on finding something.

That must have been brutally demotivating.

NAMELESS VOID: True – but looking back, it was for the best. It forced me to work harder and not just coast along with someone else’s thing. I had to figure out how to do as much as possible myself. Eventually, I made a friend who also liked black metal. He claimed to be a drummer, though I never actually heard him play. He didn’t even have a kit. But at the time, I went, ‘Great! I’m a guitarist; let’s work together.’

This was in 1999, at the dawn of the internet era – just as the metal underground was establishing a digital presence. Nameless Void’s friend frequented one of the many message boards of the time, a connection that would ultimately open a new chapter.

NAMELESS VOID: He’d been chatting with some girl in Florida, and she came up to visit. She seemed really into my friend and told us, ‘Hey, listen. You guys have a band, and I know all the musicians in Florida, like MORBID ANGEL and so on. You can find a line-up down there, no problem.’ We had nothing going on in Omaha – this was obviously way past the ORDER FROM CHAOS days.

Back in 1990, Kansas City death metal juggernaut ORDER FROM CHAOS contributed two tracks to a compilation CD called “Midwest Metalfest”, released by Ground Zero Entertainment – a label and promoter based in Omaha. Later that year, the band played their first two interstate shows there.

The alliance lasted until 1996 when the label issued ORDER FROM CHAOS’ posthumous EP “And I Saw Eternity”, marking the end of both the band and Ground Zero Entertainment.

NAMELESS VOID: I didn’t have many personal belongings, and neither did my friend. So, we packed all our earthly possessions onto a Greyhound bus. Back then, there wasn’t any luggage limit – you brought as much as you could carry. I remember hauling along this giant pile of stuff, and one of us would sit and watch it all while the other ran back and forth during transfers.

The bus ride from Omaha to Ocala, Florida, took thirty-six hours – a gruelling trek to a town Nameless Void knew nothing about, aside from the vague promise of opportunity tied to his friend’s love interest.

NAMELESS VOID: Back then, there wasn’t the whole ‘Florida man’ stereotype. It was literally, ‘Oh, Florida. Party!’ That’s as much thought and research as we put into it before showing up. Beavis and Butthead would’ve done more planning. And then, of course, we arrived in this horrible place on… <laughs> I’ll never forget: April 1, 1999.

Though Ocala is known for its equestrian industry, rolling pastures, and sprawling retirement communities, it wasn’t exactly a hotbed of metal culture – or much else.

NAMELESS VOID: It’s like a giant nursing home – miserable, boring, and lifeless. That’s where she lived, and it was just depressing, horrible, godawful. And the heat! It felt like stepping into an oven. I asked the girl, ‘Where’s the beach?’ and she said, ‘Uh, maybe a couple hours to the east.’

Were you also staying with her?

NAMELESS VOID: Yeah, and being the third wheel felt really weird. Basically, I only came along as part of the deal. Turns out she didn’t actually know any of the people she talked about. I think she’d been to Richard Brunelle’s (ex-MORBID ANGEL) house once. Everything she claimed was a lie; the whole area had nothing but a bunch of country bumpkins.

Then, another series of harsh realities set in – one being that Nameless Void didn’t have any money to get back home.

NAMELESS VOID: Relations with my parents were strained, to say the least, so I didn’t want to ask them for help. Instead, I ended up working this bullshit telemarketing job. If you had nothing, that’s what you did in Florida. No skills, no education, didn’t matter – those places would hire anybody.

Nonetheless, in a strange twist of fate, this woman ended up facilitating Nameless Void’s first real band experience.

NAMELESS VOID: One day, her ex-boyfriend showed up at the house, wanting to confront my friend. Then he noticed my guitar case and went, ‘Oh, you can play?’ One thing led to another, and he’s like, ‘Do you want to join a band? We need a second guitarist.’ That’s how I started playing in LUNAR REIGN.

LUNAR REIGN, a black metal band based in nearby Gainesville, had released a demo the year before. The trio featured Spectral on vocals and guitar, Torrid on drums, and a bassist named Victor. Also included in the arrangement was accommodation in the band’s shared house.

NAMELESS VOID: I needed to get the hell out anyway, ‘cause she kept asking my friend, ‘Why is he still here?’ And I’m like, ‘Well, I moved here!’ <laughs> So, after about a month, I relocated to Gainesville, where the other LUNAR REIGN members lived.

How did you get along?

NAMELESS VOID: I was the baby in that band – everybody else would’ve been about six years older than me. The others were like, ‘Who the hell is this new guy from the middle of nowhere?’ They gave me some shit, but that’s how it goes.

 

Nameless Void’s official debut as a musician came with “Arcane Lust” – LUNAR REIGN’s second demo, recorded on an analogue eight-tracker by Dev Azur of CRYPTIC WINDS in July 1999. Given how recently he’d joined the band, Nameless Void’s creative input was minimal.

NAMELESS VOID: None. Zero. I only did the lead guitars. Spectral had previous band experience and knew how to write songs; he handled everything. I was just thinking, ‘Oh, I’m on an actual recording? Something that’s not just me playing along to my stereo?’ I’d never done anything like that before.

In an old LUNAR REIGN interview, Spectral mentioned that the “Arcane Lust” demo was rushed to have it ready for sale at an upcoming EMPEROR show in Tampa, Florida. Unfortunately, the effort proved futile, as the gig ended up cancelled due to ‘ill health.’ DIVINE EMPIRE, an American band on the same tour, later claimed the Norwegians were too afraid to enter the death metal stronghold, given all the threats they’d sent to Floridian acts in their early years.

NAMELESS VOID: Really? I don’t even remember that. But I did catch a few shows in 1999; SAMAEL played with DIMMU BORGIR, and… let’s just say I wasn’t a fan of the direction either band had taken. I’d never seen black metal live before – and unfortunately, that night was memorably terrible. I also missed MERCYFUL FATE in ‘99 because nobody wanted to go except me and my friend from Omaha, and neither of us owned a car.

Three months later, in October 1999, LUNAR REIGN signed with local label Largactyl Records and began working on their first full-length album.

NAMELESS VOID: Honestly, to me, it just felt like some guy in his basement saying, ‘Yeah, sure, I’ll put something out,’ as a favour to us. We recorded at the house of Dev Azur from CRYPTIC WINDS. The whole thing seemed to take forever, and everything about it felt… I don’t know. I was an amateur, but I thought it should be a bit more professional.

According to an old biography, LUNAR REIGN recorded, mixed, and mastered the album around New Year’s 1999, aiming for a summer release. However, the project stalled when the label manager ended up jailed on drug charges.

NAMELESS VOID: Is that what happened? I’ve completely erased that recording from my memory. Oh, well. By that time, I was like… ‘Eh.’ I’d lost all enthusiasm. I felt somewhat conflicted and kept thinking, ‘Okay, I hitched my star to this band. I like parts of the music, but are we seriously gonna copy everything the Norwegians do?’