by Niklas Göransson

After uprooting the band from Florida and moving to New York, Negative Plane redefined their vision. Expanded to a trio, they channelled the inspiration of relocation and urban decay into the spectral soundscapes of Stained Glass Revelations.

 

BESTIAL DEVOTION: After leaving Florida and essentially doing a full reset, Ed and I felt really energised. We had this mentality of, ‘Alright, let’s fucking go.’ I remember him writing new material and the two of us working on arrangements together, feeling strangely inspired by the whole environment.

In early 2008, Bestial Devotion left Florida for New York. Nameless Void followed six months later, promptly recruiting bass player Diabolic Gulgalta, or Diego. Aside from the expanded line-up, the band’s most significant change was losing the convenience of rehearsing in their living room.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: Every Sunday, after working during the week and having Saturday off, I’d get up at 7 am to catch a train. Then, I walked to Grand Central Terminal, boarded a bus to New Jersey, switched buses, and took another one. By the time I arrived, about three hours had passed. Then we’d rehearse and write all day before I made the same trip back.

To help set the scene, can you describe the surroundings where “Stained Glass Revelations” was honed and completed?

BESTIAL DEVOTION: In a shitty, fucking hellhole of a rehearsal studio. The lights didn’t work, leaving the hallway leading to our room in complete darkness. People constantly complained about junkies breaking in and stealing equipment. The room itself felt claustrophobic, with black walls. Not our doing; they’d already been painted that way.

NAMELESS VOID: I didn’t know how to do proper research for rehearsal spots, so I just picked this really horrible practice space in New Jersey, kind of near where I lived. Matthias had to travel hours from Long Island to get there.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: What stood out most to me was the ceiling – or really, the lack of one. It stretched absurdly high, crisscrossed with exposed, leaking pipes that rusted parts of my drum set. So yeah, pretty miserable, but maybe that gave the album some extra character.

How so?

BESTIAL DEVOTION: Despite being an absolute shithole, it felt so depressing that, ironically, I think it pushed us to be more creative. We spent countless hours demoing there – recording the new songs over and over, testing out ideas, and experimenting with keyboards and other elements.

 

NAMELESS VOID: One Sunday, after partying all night and into the next day, I showed up to rehearsal several hours late. Matthias had been waiting there alone – and understandably, he was pissed and let me have it. I deserved every word; I needed to hear that. I probably gave it back to him, too, because I’m the kind of guy who, despite being completely in the wrong, will still say something just to respond.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: We don’t fight very often, but when it happens… it’s bad. I’m trying to remember – I was probably yelling and screaming, ‘Don’t you take this seriously anymore? Why don’t you fucking write a song already?’ or something similarly constructive.

NAMELESS VOID: Matthias and I let each other have it, but the whole thing turned out to be productive. After that, we tore down the structure of a song we’d been struggling with and said, ‘Alright, fuck it – let’s just start again clean.’

BESTIAL DEVOTION: We’ve had a few of those moments. I’m a huge asshole at times, so I can only imagine what it’s like dealing with me bitching about shit I didn’t even write. It’s always easier to say something sucks when it’s not your material. I think I told Ed the song was shit and that I hated everything except one riff.

NAMELESS VOID: There was this post-punk type riff I’d been messing around with on clean guitar. Matthias said, ‘Dude, why don’t we use that as the opening?’ Then he grabbed the bass and started playing along. Diego joined us later and came up with a perfect bassline – a steady, long note. Somehow, after all that, the song came together in three or four practices.

Shortly after its musical completion, the song was named “The Number of the Word”.

NAMELESS VOID: I wrote the lyrics really quickly; it was one of those occasions where things just fell into place. I’m still surprised – we had a couple of the riffs lying around in various forms, but tearing everything down and rebuilding it from scratch is what made the song great. A month or two later, we premiered it at Club Europa.

 

“The Number of the Word” saw its stage debut on September 28, 2009, when NEGATIVE PLANE played with DESTRÖYER 666 at Club Europa in Brooklyn, New York.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: From memory, the New York crowd seemed largely indifferent. I’ve never really seen people go crazy at our shows – not in the States, anyway. It’s not for lack of passion, but audiences here are definitely more reserved compared to Europe or South America.

I found photos from this show, and it seems NEGATIVE PLANE’s attire and overall aesthetic had shifted significantly from the WATAIN tour two years earlier.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: Back then, we were still experimenting. It was our first time performing live, and we thought, ‘Let’s try to make it theatrical.’ But after a few gigs, we realised it didn’t really suit us – at least not me. The music speaks for itself, and I’d rather focus on playing than putting on a show.

NAMELESS VOID: I’d say the change was a combination of a few things. Firstly, I accidentally left part of the stage attire somewhere in Tampa. We used to wear these big robes but later thought, ‘This makes us look too much like BLACK WITCHERY or MORTUARY DRAPE’, and moved away from it.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: Don’t get me wrong, I love watching bands go all out. But for me, it just felt awkward, like trying to be someone I’m not. I prefer to keep things understated. I also believe that’s why people seem apathetic when we play. Our music requires attentive listening, and there’s not much happening visually – it’s not about jumping around or pulling off theatrics.

NAMELESS VOID: We said, ‘Eh, let’s not make this so overt’, and decided to go for something more subtle. At the time, Matthias and I listened to a lot of post-punk like JOY DIVISION and thought, ‘You know what? This feels less Halloween-looking and more serious.’ Still metal – but with a mellow, shadowy aesthetic.

 

When NEGATIVE PLANE began planning the studio recording, funding presented a challenge. In a recent Bardo Methodology interview, Tyler Davis of The Ajna Offensive – NEGATIVE PLANE’s label – confirmed that hefty recording budgets didn’t align with his business model.

In November 2009, Nameless Void attended the first Nuclear War Now! Fest in Berlin, Germany, filling in on guitar for VILLIANS. There, he was introduced to Darragh O’Laoghaire from Ireland’s Invictus Productions.

NAMELESS VOID: Lino (VILLIANS) said, ‘There’s this Irish guy who’s interested in NEGATIVE PLANE.’ Tyler didn’t have much reach in Europe, so Darragh proposed a co-release. I told him what we needed for the studio budget, and he agreed to pay half. I don’t think Ajna and Invictus had worked together before – I could be wrong, but I believe we helped bridge that gap.

With the budget secured, NEGATIVE PLANE initially tried their luck at Trax East – the same New Jersey studio where INCANTATION recorded “Onward to Golgotha” in September 1991.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: I thought, ‘What do I like? Fucking INCANTATION! Hm, where was this album recorded? Oh, Trax East.’ I googled it, saw they were still in business, and told Ed, ‘Let’s go there.’ I borrowed a van from work, loaded up my drum set, and drove four hours to the studio.

By then, ironically, NEGATIVE PLANE had moved their rehearsal space from New Jersey to Long Island City.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: When we arrived, it wasn’t quite what I’d imagined. Looking back, there might have been an element of naivety on our end. The funniest part was walking in and discovering that they weren’t famous for INCANTATION but SKID ROW! A gold record for their debut album hung on the wall.

SKID ROW was a hugely popular American hard rock and heavy metal band that rose to fame in the late 1980s. Their self-titled debut album, released in 1989, became a massive hit with songs like “Youth Gone Wild” and “18 and Life”.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: Ed and I stared at each other in disbelief, ‘What the fuck is this shit? SKID ROW is not why we came here.’ I asked the engineer, ‘Hey, you recorded INCANTATION, right?’ He shrugged and said, ‘I guess? I don’t really remember.’

NAMELESS VOID: We recorded a demo version of “Lamentations and Ashes” and a short instrumental piece called “The Chasm Depth”. But… I suppose our assumption that the studio’s history alone would make everything sound incredible was a bit unfounded. There were plenty of lessons we had yet to learn.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: By the end of our visit, we asked the studio guy to check his archives, and he found the reel-to-reel of “Onward to Golgotha”. He pulled it out and said, ‘Is this the one?’ Ed and I went, ‘Yes! That’s why we came here.’

NAMELESS VOID: After hearing a rough mix, we were unimpressed. It wasn’t necessarily the studio’s fault, but I wrote it off immediately: ‘Eh, this sounds like garbage. Let’s not record here.’ Looking back, we probably didn’t give it much of a chance.

 

BESTIAL DEVOTION: I started approaching local recording engineers, asking, ‘Hey, are you okay with making us sound old? Like something from the 1970s?’ That became my pitch to everyone. I briefly considered a studio whose producer had worked on a FIELDS OF THE NEPHILIM album I love, but it was way too expensive.

NAMELESS VOID: I also remember us talking to some guys who’d been involved in music projects similar to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” (BAUHAUS), but again, the cost was too high. Then, Matthias – who did most of the legwork to find a studio – came across a place in Long Island.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: I believe he’d worked with some nu-metal bands or something. I played him a pre-production demo and started explaining, ‘Alright, we want this and that.’ He listened intently, stopped it halfway through, and said, ‘Look, I’m gonna give you a free tip. If you want to get on Ozzfest, you really must cut these tracks down.’

NAMELESS VOID: The guy was telling us, ‘Listen, you’ll never get on the radio with these ten-minute songs.’ He wanted to be our producer and said, ‘Oh, I could make you sound like AC/DC!’

BESTIAL DEVOTION: I sat there thinking, ‘Is this a joke? Is he fucking with me?’ Then he added, ‘Yep, you really gotta work on these songs, man.’ I told him, ‘No, they’re done; that’s what NEGATIVE PLANE sounds like.’ He thought for a while and said, ‘Right, so what I can offer you is the “Back in Black” (AC/DC) drum sound.’ <laughs> It was the weirdest meeting.

 

NAMELESS VOID: During all this, I read David Lee Roth’s book, Crazy from the Heat, where he talks about the VAN HALEN albums. He described how, if they wanted reverb, Eddie Van Halen would just hit the pedal and play it live. The book really emphasised how alive their recordings felt, and I loved that idea.

Recording live, as opposed to tracking instruments separately, creates a unified and organic sound. It captures the energy and interplay of musicians playing together in real-time, preserving nuances like subtle timing shifts, dynamics, and spontaneity.

NAMELESS VOID: What really sealed the deal for us was discovering that a studio in Brooklyn still had Eddie Van Halen’s old track recorder. Admittedly, we might have been a little delusional <laughs> – like, ‘Perfect, this machine recorded VAN HALEN! How can it not be amazing?’ But that’s how we ended up at Seaside Lounge.

BESTIAL DEVOTION: The funny thing is, Seaside Lounge is in the basement of a shitty old, abandoned warehouse – I think it used to be a brick factory. Quite possibly the ugliest fucking studio in existence, with no seaside view whatsoever. The name was a joke about how hideous the place is.

NAMELESS VOID: The studio had this setup for natural reverb – I can’t remember exactly, but it created plate reverb without using any digital effects. Oh, and more importantly, he offered reel-to-reel recording. At the time, we were adamant: ‘We want nothing digital. Everything must be organic and analogue the whole way.’