When submerged within soundscapes one often hears ghosts. Undefined snippets of audio that briefly enter and leave the room, making us wonder if we’ve actually heard or merely imagined them. These sounds send a shiver through the ether; leaving us puzzled, unnerved, and perhaps even less alone. To me, Nibelung embraces this given fully. Not only musically on its latest effort Faces In The Mountain but also visually, as I’ve been staring at it’s artwork for longer than I’d like to admit.
You put that very well. It's best to listen alone. It takes some time, but when you are alone, the visitors are more likely to come. You may be able to hear the wind and the trees speak, and it begins to matter less if what we see is really there. If you have heard shivers and ghosts, I have accomplished what I set out to do.
I am glad to hear the artwork merited some gazing. It's quite dark, but there is something dim lurking in the corner. The piece is taken from a much larger painting, one that has been with me since I was very young. It haunted me some while I was composing these tapes, and I felt it fitting to the story they told. Perhaps if someone cares to look long enough, they will understand why.
What intrigues me is how Faces In The Mountain demands me to continuously switch between active and passive listening. At one moment in time I am heavily focused on tiny details, while minutes later I have completely zoned out, only to eventually be submerged again. This of course has a lot to do with the length of the record (which clocks in at nearly 95 minutes) but also with its various compositions in which sounds gradually come, morph and disappear. To me, the record feels more like an influential companion during a broad variety of activities rather than a demanding piece of art. Does this resonate with you as its creator?
It was made to be in the background. I think it is more useful as a meditation aid than anything else. But maybe not meditation in the traditional sense of sitting in one place, thinking about nothing at all. Walking around in the woods or in the mountains is better, especially at nighttime. Letting the trees and the peaks loom over you and feeling the cold wind move around. You begin to feel awfully small out there. And it is best to let your feet show you where to walk. The music itself might lead you down certain paths. These tapes tell of someone doing the very same. And if you end up seeing things out there, then you will have tales of your own to tell.
I like this idea of music as an extension, rather than a phenomenon on its own. I hope you do not mind this rather personal question but in what ways does Nibelung extend your world as its creator? How is it intertwined with your daily life, goals and ambitions?
The music is a very ritualistic thing for me. I don't touch it often, and I feel it is best not to. It is more like a relic or an ornament you take out on a particular occasion. Perhaps the season is proper, or perhaps you find yourself in a certain rare mood. This way it stays sacred and special, and it can last you for many years.
NIBELUNG is a work I am proud of, but it is also a work anyone could produce. I created it because it was what I wished to hear. If you find my music, or any other music, does not resonate with you or facilitate your wanderings it is best to make your own.
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| Stench Ov Death Prod., 2018 |
I can imagine that, as a listener, part of what you want to hear - or experience - is unclear when diving into any type of music. Is this also the case when you’re writing for Nibelung, or does it come from a more singular vision? In other words: do you know what you want to hear before you start working on Nibelung, or does it become clear during the process, or even afterwards?
The works on the Old Tales album, it being the first offering, were more freeform. I made that album around Christmastime one year. I was very depressed and just walking around in the snow a lot. I simply wanted to channel the feeling of those times into dungeon synth. Those were a few of the first pieces of music I ever made. Some of them were my attempt at making "traditional" medieval ambient, and some were harsh and abrasive, reminding me of raw/avant-DS artists that influenced me at the time.
My intentions for Faces In The Mountain were clearer. I wanted to release a record long enough to facilitate a journey, long enough to merit a second tape. And it had to sound more cohesive. I wanted everything to have that quiet, wintry feeling to fit with the "season" of the release. There are still improvised bits but it was all more planned than before.
But overall, and generally, let me say this... it is fine to approach composition with intention. But it is more important to let a song breathe and find its own way. The best art is not created but channeled from somewhere else. If it tries to go in a different direction than you planned, who are you to say it should not... your intentions will still be there tomorrow but this particular vibration will not…
That last sentence is both hear-warming and chilling. How does it relate to Nibelung’s current state? Are you embracing a particular vibration as we speak, is there a strong intention when it comes to future material, or is there a dominant silence - completely in line with our autumnal season?
I have not composed anything for NIBELUNG in a very long while. But long before I began Faces In The Mountain I went into the forest near my house and recorded an EP album called The Lonely Wood there. It has never been released. I am planning something atypical for the physical version, and it is taking some time to complete. Hopefully it will be finished by the spring. After that I have plans for one more NIBELUNG album, and that may be the last you hear of me. Time will tell.
Nibelung on Bandcamp
