by Niklas Göransson

Haunted by shadows of memory and trapped in a war with the subconscious, Neill Jameson began to confront what once fuelled his art. The fury remained, but the mask had slipped. No longer a sermon of destruction, Krieg became a chronicle of survival.

 

NEILL JAMESON: By 2002, the anxiety and depression had grown so overwhelming that I finally spoke to my doctor about it. Around the same time, I started having recurring nightmares set in a distorted version of my childhood home in Pittsburgh – a place I hadn’t seen in a decade, making these dreams even stranger.

Neill’s family relocated from Pittsburgh to Somers Point, New Jersey, in 1992, when he was thirteen. The following year, his father died in a plane crash.

In the fall of 2000, shortly after performing live with JUDAS ISCARIOT at Under the Black Sun in Germany and preparing to bring KRIEG to the stage, Neill lost his mother to a heart condition.

NEILL: Each dream played out in different rooms, yet always the same house. Sometimes, I’d relive childhood traumas; other nights, repressed memories forced their way to the surface. Then there were the anxiety-driven visions – premonitions of looming disasters or troubling glimpses into potential futures.

Was this a nightly occurrence, or did it arrive in waves?

NEILL: Initially, the dreams came sporadically but soon escalated into nightly torment. Some continue to haunt me now, twenty years later – which says a lot, since I barely recall any recent dreams. Yet, I could describe, in detail, my nightmares from 2002. That’s how profoundly they affected me.

Were the nights worse than the days?

NEILL: Not significantly – but at night, I knew I was the source of my own suffering. It felt like engaging in perpetual warfare against myself. Unless you buy into the notion of dreams as gateways to other dimensions, the reality is that they’re just reflections of your subconscious.

While some theories propose that the dreamscape offers glimpses into alternate realities, modern psychology generally considers dreaming a mechanism the brain uses to process emotions, memories, and unresolved conflicts.

NEILL: Essentially, it’s your unconscious mind replaying experiences back to you – which meant I was carrying around immense self-hatred, guilt, and anguish, endlessly forcing myself to relive everything. Realising that you’re your own worst enemy is terrifying; there’s no escaping yourself.

Encouraged by close friends, Neill eventually sought medical help and received a diagnosis of major chronic depression.

NEILL: For whatever reason, I still didn’t go to therapy – I assumed it would be pointless. But I did start taking a medication called Effexor. This occurred before antidepressants were as prevalent as they are today; at the time, there was still considerable stigma attached.

Effexor, an SNRI (serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor), was marketed as an alternative for individuals unresponsive to SSRIs, the more commonly prescribed antidepressants.

NEILL: Simply having a name for what was wrong with me – and believing I’d found a cure – provided some relief. My life improved quite a bit around then, at least superficially. I managed to mask the inner turmoil temporarily. I had maybe six months of decent life before, inevitably, everything turned to shit again.

 

Beyond Neill’s personal struggles, these experiences also reshaped his artistic vision. One evening, after finishing the song “Rooms”, he decided that KRIEG’s lyrics should take a more introspective route, departing from the misanthropic nihilism of “Destruction Ritual” towards psychological and personal themes.

NEILL: I knew I wanted to explore a different direction but hadn’t yet defined what that meant. Then I started getting into genres I’d never paid attention to before; I became obsessed with Lou Reed, THE VELVET UNDERGROUND, and the 70s New York punk scene. So much of that was deeply personal storytelling – and for its time, incredibly dark.

THE VELVET UNDERGROUND, particularly through Lou Reed’s songwriting, offered stark, unfiltered portrayals of urban decay, drug addiction, and outsider life. Similarly, the 1970s New York punk scene, embodied by bands like TELEVISION, PATTI SMITH, and THE RAMONES, upheld a confessional, anti-establishment spirit.

NEILL: That got me thinking: ‘Why can’t I do something like this?’ Every night, I was flooded with visions and emotions far more grounded in reality than any Satanic or demonic imagery. Authentic expression felt like the obvious path forward. I’ve always been somewhat self-absorbed – I imagine that comes from being an only child. So, I thought, what better subject to write about than my favourite one?

In a 2004 interview with Anvil Magazine, Neill mentioned spending around five hours a day working on song structures – which is amusing, considering how KRIEG’s earlier material was notoriously devoid of structure.

NEILL: The subject matter felt highly significant, so I needed the music to reflect it accurately. That’s when I started prioritising riffs and cohesive composition over simply relying on my vocals to inject raw intensity into everything.

“Rise of the Imperial Hordes”, “Sono Lo Scherno”, and to a lesser extent “Destruction Ritual”, were known for chaotic, disjointed vocals lacking clear patterns. On KRIEG’s debut album in particular, this method strenghtened the dramatic narrative.

NEILL: Moving forward, I wanted fewer vocals, meaningful lyrics rooted in reality, and music strong enough to stand on its own. I was also gaining confidence as a songwriter. For years, I hid my insecurities behind sheer personality – saying a lot of stupid shit to maintain an aura because I didn’t think my material could speak for itself. But that started to change.

 

Another thing that started to change was Neill’s insistence on working alone.

NEILL: When I sat down and played the “Destruction Ritual” riffs on guitar, I acknowledged my ability to write music that, to me, felt genuinely powerful. But I also knew I wasn’t skilled enough to fully execute it – which is why I started considering session members. I needed musicianship that could match my vision.

To bring this idea to life, Neill recruited Akhenaten on guitar. The JUDAS ISCARIOT frontman had just ended his solo project on the eve of its tenth anniversary.

According to a statement, Akhenaten’s decision was purely personal and artistic, driven by a shift in perspective after moving to Europe. With some distance from Christianity, the rage once fuelling his music had subsided, and he felt that continuing the project without this fire would compromise its integrity.

NEILL: He’d stepped away from JUDAS ISCARIOT but was still stretched thin. Andrew already played with FLAGELLATOR, SEEDS OF HATE, DEBAUCHERY, and, if memory serves, DESOLATION HYMN, a project that also had M.K. from KATHARSIS. I released their EP, “Purgatory Despairing”, via Blood, Fire, Death.

After relocating to Germany in 2000, Akhenaten joined Nuremberg-based black metal act SEEDS OF HATE, featuring Steve MetalKommand on bass. Their debut album, “Persecution of Christian Filth”, emerged the following year.

Around the same period, alongside SECRETS OF THE MOON drummer Thrawn, Akhenaten handled strings and vocals for a black/death duo called DEBAUCHERY. Their sole EP, “Dead Scream Symphony”, was recorded in May 2002.

FLAGELLATOR, another Akhenaten project, paired him with Winterheart, drummer for NYKTALGIA and STERBEND. By the time Akhenaten joined KRIEG, FLAGELLATOR were working their debut, “Channeling the Acheron”.

NEILL: Andrew probably didn’t want to become known as that guy who appeared everywhere. He also worried his presence might overshadow KRIEG itself – fearing people would view the record as ‘another Akhenaten album’ rather than a KRIEG release. So yeah, convincing him took some effort.

 

In August 2002, KRIEG recorded five songs at Bride of Insect Studios in Chicago – the same four-track setup Akhenaten had used for JUDAS ISCARIOT.

NEILL: Andrew visited America around the time of Milwaukee Metalfest – some show had brought him out. We decided to borrow FOREST OF IMPALED’s rehearsal space again, bring in the CULT OF DAATH drummer, and track a few songs. I had several splits lined up, and KRIEG was invited to participate in a JUDAS ISCARIOT tribute.

Greek label ISO666 Releases was assembling “To the Triumph of Evil – A Tribute to Judas Iscariot”, featuring bands like LEVIATHAN, XASTHUR, NACHTMYSTIUM, and MERRIMACK.

NEILL: We’d arranged for another guitarist to come in and record the cover, “Babylon”, but he just couldn’t pull it off. So, while he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, Andrew ended up playing guitar on his own tribute song <laughs>.

This session also saw NACHTMYSTIUM founder Blake Judd making his debut as KRIEG’s bassist.

NEILL: At the time, I made frequent trips to Chicago to see friends. One night, we ended up in some guy’s garage – that’s where I met Blake. We stayed in touch afterwards. He had a sharp mind, great taste, and a lot of ambition. Asking him to be part of the recording was a natural next step.

Once tracking was complete, Neill realised the songs formed a cohesive whole and decided to release them as a demo. The following month, those five KRIEG tracks comprised a limited tape run of “Songs for Resistance” – the inaugural title of Battle Kommand Records, Blake Judd’s newly formed underground label.

The demo featured a re-recorded version of “Alarum” from the debut, plus two tracks later appearing on “The Black House”. It also included “The Sick Winds Stir the Cold Dawn” – probably my favourite KRIEG song.

NEILL: Andrew wrote “The Sick Winds…” in the studio. Re-recording “Alarum” was a last-minute idea – then he started fiddling with that first riff, and within ten or fifteen minutes, we had the entire structure mapped out. So whenever someone tells me that’s their favourite KRIEG song, I think, ‘Well, technically, it’s a JUDAS ISCARIOT track.’

How did you feel about it?

NEILL: It was one of those moments when I found myself just sitting there, watching a musician I deeply respected – someone I’d even call a hero – compose music for my band on the spot. Actually, it’s one of two particularly special memories tied to that track. The other came from LEVIATHAN’s “Scar Sighted”, specifically the song “Within Thrall”.

If one listens carefully at the end of “Within Thrall”, Jef Whitehead actually closes the song using the main riff from “The Sick Winds Stir the Cold Dawn”.

NEILL: “The Sick Winds…” has always been a crowd-pleaser live, but it also made me realise that the next KRIEG album had to be more structured. Here was this epic piece which fit seamlessly into everything else on the demo, yet stood apart from anything I’d written previously. It set a new creative standard for me going forward.

 

Meanwhile, Neill had his hands full domestically. With no will in place, managing his mother’s estate – including the house they’d shared when she passed – fell entirely to him.

NEILL: I made the unbelievably stupid decision of letting multiple people move in, thinking I could collect rent. That never happened. Instead, the place turned into a punk squat, and everything spiralled fast. One roommate was an amateur pornographer who constantly invited over the worst kinds of people. I should probably mention he starred in these films himself – and weighed around 400 pounds.

Around this time, Neill’s longtime friend MkM – frontman of French black metal band ANTAEUS – visited him in New Jersey.

To promote “De Principii Evangelikum”, ANTAEUS’ label, Osmose Productions, had secured a touring slot supporting DEICIDE. But when the deal fell through and ANTAEUS were replaced by CENTINEX and MYSTIC CIRCLE, a bitterly disappointed MkM needed a change of scenery and spent several months working for Red Stream in Pennsylvania.

NEILL: I remember we threw a big party at my house, which wasn’t unusual. These gatherings often took bizarre turns. The pornographer roommate would attempt to organise gangbangs, while another – a local degenerate – was determined to keep pace with MkM in terms of scarification and self-mutilation.

If I recall correctly, this is when the now-classic and much circulated photo of MkM covered in fresh wounds was taken.

NEILL: MkM terrified everyone. He’d just sit in my kitchen, calmly slicing himself open, while I smoked a cigarette next to him. Neither of us was in a good place mentally – not exactly pleasant memories. But at least one worthwhile thing came out of that period: he and I were both present during the recording of JUDAS ISCARIOT’s “Moonlight Butchery”, which took place in Pennsylvania with Pat (Red Stream) on drums.