I’m not trying to sound like a gatekeeper here, or like I’m invalidating anyone’s opinions about whatever, but I will give some serious side-eye to any list of the best all-time doom or metal records that doesn’t have a reverential place reserved for Candlemass‘ debut album, Epicus Doomicus Metallicus. Released through Black Dragon and Leviathan Records in 1986 — arguably a pinnacle year for metal with landmarks from Slayer, Megadeth, Metallica, Voivod, Iron Maiden, and Saint Vitus, among others — it set in motion one of doom’s most essential, genre-defining progressions and became a model that, more than 35 years after its arrival, continues to inform the aesthetic in mood and sound. It is a blueprint for doom metal even as it captures a band who never really existed.

The story is famous by now that Candlemass were set to record their first long-player and founding bassist, principal-songwriter and bandleader Leif Edling brought in Johan Längquist to fill the role of lead singer. Candlemass had been around for a couple years at that point, operating under the moniker of Nemesis since 1982 with guitarist Mappe Björkman joining in 1985 — lead guitarist Lars Johansson and drummer Jan Lindh joined in ’87; the band’s second album, Nightfall (discussed here), came out that year and was their first with frontman Messiah Marcolin — and Längquist wasn’t so much in the band as on the songs. Difficult to imagine anyone involved thought they were making a heavy metal landmark when it came out, but there continues to be magic in the six-song/43-minute run of Epicus Doomicus Metallicus. Opening track “Solitude” is morose in its beginning in a way that feels like it’s speaking to what would’ve been a nascent goth culture in 1986, and the riff that takes hold is a clarion to worshipers of Black Sabbath: “Come in and be among your own.”

“Solitude,” “Demon’s Gate,” “Crystal Ball,” “Black Stone Wielder,” “Under the Oak,” “A Sorcerer’s Pledge” — the immediacy of side A gives over to more of a storytelling feel for side B, and therein lies the heart of doom. Because Candlemass are rightly credited with crafting a style tagged as “epic doom,” and a lot of the bands working under their influence in the last, oh, 35-plus years are tagged the same. Fair enough. But that’s really more about Nightfall and its own follow-ups, 1988’s Ancient Dreams (discussed here) and 1989’s Tales of Creation, and the Messiah Marcolin era that hadn’t begun yet when Epicus Doomicus Metallicus was recorded, even if the band themselves are telling you how to consider their work right there in the title: “epicus.” Certainly what they would become and the path they’d take over the course of the rest of the 1980s — which is inarguably the root of the influence they’ve had on two-plus generations of doomers subsequent to their earliest output; Candlemass share another commonality with Sabbath in that their 1990s work is undervalued in light of what they’d done prior — were hinted toward in “Under the Oak,” “Black Stone Wielder,” and the narrative “A Sorcerer’s Pledge,” but their doom hadn’t yet earned its patience or poise, and Epicus Doomicus Metallicus is rougher than nearly everything Candlemass would do after in terms of its basic sound. This becomes a great strength throughout the album.

The version streaming above is a 2007 remaster from Peaceville Records. It came with a bonus disc of live material recorded in the UK in 1988 that’s also part of the Bandcamp stream. You can hear in its sound a little more separation between the instruments — that may just be a result of raising the volume for what was then a 2CD/LP edition; a 3LP version came out in 2022 — and maybe that’s imaginary or power of suggestion, but it feels just slightly different from the original. Consider Längquist in the open space at the end of “Solitude.” That’s a brief moment, but so pivotal, and in this edition he seems just a little more isolated. I’m not saying it’s an enhancement to the material — it’s neither pro or con — just something you should be aware of if you listen. The original version I’m sure is on YouTube or whathaveyou if you feel like you want to chase it down, I just went with an official release.

One way or the other, I believe strongly in a Canon of Heavy, which is to say a league of records no home should be without. A level of performance, songwriting, aesthetic or craft that’s so essential to understanding what heavy is, was, or can be, that it can and should not be ignored. I’m talking about universality within a heavy subculture. Some shit everybody can and should get on board with. Epicus Doomicus Metallicus stands among the ultimate examples in my mind of this, and is a release that should be celebrated for its own accomplishments in innovating and helping to shape the style of doom metal, as well as for how cognizant it seems to be of what it’s doing. That is, Candlemass probably didn’t know they’d still be putting out records in the 2020s, but they are, and as on 2022’s Sweet Evil Sun (review here) and on 2019’s The Door to Doom (review here) that earned them wide accolades and a Grammy nomination, it’s Längquist on vocals — a part of the band at last, in addition to being an essential component of their history and thus that of doom at large.

It was a long and tumultuous road, with breakups, reunions, Robert Lowe from Solitude Aeternus fronting them for three records after coming aboard in another need-a-singer situation following an apparently-final split with Marcolin ahead of 2007’s King of the Grey Islands, which I can’t believe hasn’t closed out a week here before. So it goes with a band whose discography is rich both with singularly righteous doom and historical back and forth. But the work stands, as ever, and in Epicus Doomicus Metallicus, in their very first album, Candlemass set forth a blueprint for themselves and for others of what doom could be, how it could engage with the likes of the NWOBHM or even thrash, and retain its signature melancholy. Also it’s great.

Thank you for reading. As always, I hope you enjoy.

—

Made it through the week, which feels impressive. Earlier this week sucked. Early every week sucks. The Patient Mrs.’ semester has started, so she’s in class on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. We were in Connecticut last Saturday and last Sunday had company for a brunch playdate. The Pecan threw up Monday morning so I kept her home and that killed Monday and Tuesday here. 15 years later and I’m still scrounging for seconds of the day to write. Feels great.

I turned on Zelda and let the kid play so I could at least bang out some text to go with the two premieres that happened on Tuesday, and that was basically the day. Tuesday she went back to school and I dug into the whatnot, have been trying to catchup ever since and have not yet succeeded. But the week’s over, so I’ll pick back up Monday and still be behind. This weekend? Oh, well, Saturday we’re having company for brunch and then Sunday is a playdate. I expect the usual amount of getting caught up to take place.

Apologies if you’ve sent me email and I haven’t answered. Or social media messages. Whatever. Sorry. I’m trying my best and can’t even slate reviews for stuff I want to write about, let alone stuff I haven’t heard yet.

My new laptop, which is smaller — and if you’d call me out for bitching about that when I’m typing on a brand new computer, I’ll kindly refer you to the 40-plus years of my fucking life I’ve spent engaging with materials designed for people smaller than I am, whether it’s clothes, cars, Nintendo controllers, laptop keyboards, socks, on and on, and I’m not even just talking about being fat and trying to squeeze my ass in somewhere; I’m talking about how I have to scrunch my shoulders in to properly position my wrists on the condensed keyboard and it fucking hurts now when shit doesn’t fit because I’m old — came with a bunch of obnoxious intrusive bundled crap that no one ever, ever, ever wants but that keeps one jackass employed at Microsoft, presumably whichever AI they’ve hired as the CEO. I should’ve stayed home from CT last Saturday and set it up. Instead, I did it over the course of Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday while also trying to do Obelisk stuff and blew my brains out like 70 times trying to perform what seem to be for most individuals basic functions and tasks and failing outright all the time, every day. Constantly.

Do you know what my wife has? My wife has a text chain. Okay. A text chain. This text chain was born out of a Facebook group. The Facebook group was splintered off another one. The original was called Academic Mamas, and it was/is a group for mothers who are in academia, who are college professors like my wife or researchers, etc. Then it was Academic Mamas of 2017s for those who had kids the same year we had The Pecan. Then she found Academic Mamas of Special Needs 2017s, and then that became a text chain. Madness, right? Stay with me.

Do you know what they do on this text chain? They support each other. They talk about their day, or something that was hard, something that was easy, and they’re just there for each other, with advice or encouragement, whatever it is. They’re supported. Women supporting each other. Sometimes I very much wish there wasn’t so much shame around masculinity. I feel like I’m so ashamed of being angry, sad, bitter, resentful, all of these things, that they just sit and fester and I lose out on so much because I’m still back there trying to lug my own bullshit baggage. See? I even just called it bullshit! I can’t even get through a sentence talking about it without undercutting myself. That’s how it feels to be a man.

And nobody gives a shit. Nobody. Ain’t no text chains here. You got a problem? Sort it out, man. Man up. Go watch some football or something. Go punch a wall, which I’ve definitely done. Go shoot up a grocery store, or your school, or anywhere. Jump off a bridge. If you’re me, eat compulsively. This is what men get as options, and I think it’s perhaps the only instance wherein the cultural privilege of being a man is a detriment — because usually that’s pretty good livin’ as regards cultural dominance; I’ll remind you I don’t have a job — because since everybody else is worse off between women and those who identify outside the cisgender binary who the hell is going to offer any sympathy when one of the conditions for being a man in the first place, along with your babykiller pickup truck and, I don’t know, being a cop?, is killing that sympathy within yourself? The word ‘toxic’ is overused, but not misused.

So I’m gonna go sort all that out over the next 48 hours or so. Then probably write a book and live off speaking fees for the rest of my life. You have a great and safe weekend. Have fun, watch your head, hydrate, kill the patriarchy for the betterment of all humanity. End war. End fossil fuel consumption today. End money. End guns. Start love.

FRM.

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The decades-spanning legacy of Swedish doom metallers Candlemass is largely unmatched outside of the band’s main point of inspiration, Black Sabbath. Fueled as ever by the songwriting of bassist/founder Leif Edling, with membership dating back to the mid-1980s in guitarists Mappe Björkman (rhythm) and Lars Johansson (lead) and drummer Jan Lindh, the genre-defining outfit stormed into a new era with 2019’s The Door to Doom (review here) in reuniting with Johan Längquist, who was never actually in the group but nonetheless fronted their landmark 1986 debut and arguably one of the most important doom records of all time, Epicus Doomicus Metallicus, though he’d also joined the band for special live performances as well in the long interim.

A crucial moment, the advent of Längquist as actual-frontman for Candlemass was somewhat overshadowed by the guest appearance of Black Sabbath‘s Tony Iommi on one of The Door to Doom‘s tracks — subsequently nominated for a Grammy — but it was the pivotal change that actually allowed that record to be such a success, the tenures of Solitude Aeturnus‘ Robert Lowe and Mats Levén (who’d worked with Edling in side-projects Krux and Abstrakt Algebra, and featured in a ton of other bands as well) having proved sustainable even if the latter never actually sang on a full-length, only studio EPs. Given the results and reception to The Door to Doom, going in a different direction was clearly the right choice for the band at the time, even if what they were doing was working.

That leaves Sweet Evil Sun — their 13th full-length — with a significant challenge as the follow-up. Apart from vocals on “When Death Sighs” contributed by Jennie-Ann Smith of the Edling-adjacent melodic metal unit Avatarium, and keys by Rickard Nilsson (also Avatarium, among others) there are no guest spots throughout the 10-song/53-minute offering, and alongside producer Marcus Jidell, who also plays in Avatarium and featured in the shelved Edling project The Doomsday Kingdom and as recorded Candlemass since 2016 (he was also in Soen, Evergrey and a slew of others), the band send a clear message throughout the new collection that they’re back to the business at hand of crafting their particular brand of epically riffed doom metal that has influenced more than one generation of acts across the last 35-plus years.

Their intention in this regard is telegraphed clearly in the signature nod of album-opener “Wizard of the Vortex,” and as the CD/three-sided 2LP (there’s also a 3LP version), plays through its brief-at-3:40, hooky title-track with a groove reminiscent of records like 1989’s Tales of Creation and their more dug-in approach generally, before moving into the lumber-into-chug of “Angel Battle,” which is classic in style mostly because of the work Candlemass did in making it that way, topped of with a spoken word piece performed by the actor Kenneth Anger (whose credits include 1972’s Lucifer Rising, a title the band took for an EP in 2008); the full written version of the narrative is in the CD tray, presumably somewhere in the LP layout as well. And as they continue into the Sabbath-referencing “Black Butterfly,” full-on epic doom, their main point of reference indeed seems to be Candlemass. As a band, they’re perhaps taking influence from themselves more than anybody.

Particularly in light of where they’re coming from in answering back The Door to Doom, this feels purposeful, and Sweet Evil Sun emerges as a strong declaration of purpose and a statement of who they are, reminding in that of their then-reunion album in 2005’s self-titled (discussed here) that reignited their career and set them on a path toward reverence from a new generation of fans. There are shades of classic metal throughout, and the reaches toward accessibility in the single “Scandinavian Gods,” “When Death Sighs” and the aforementioned “Sweet Evil Sun” are complemented by the grand dirges of “Devil Voodoo” and “Crucified” — a good bit of headbang fodder in the latter as well as a standout performance from Längquist — so that Sweet Evil Sun carries something of a rocker’s vibe even as it does not shy away from tolling a funeral bell.

This leaning to one side or the other of the established tenets of Candlemass‘ sound gives Sweet Evil Sun a steady flow from one song, one side to the next, and so the record carries a a sense of movement as it heads toward the culmination in “Goddess,” which takes iconoclastic cues from “Wizard of the Vortex” and mirrors the opener’s point of view lyrically in examining who has power and why. “Wizard of the Vortex” is a bit more blatant, asking “Did you surrender, when the demon rose?” where in “Goddess,” it’s “You’re not my goddess, no face of religion.” For all I know the one could be about fascism and the other about divorce, but they’re both using escapist lyrical metaphor to speak about something more terrestrial.

Further to the lyrics, every track on Sweet Evil Sun contains some derivation of the word “sun” in its lyrics except for “Wizard of the Vortex.” The first line of “Angel Battle” says it, “Happened on a Sunday.” In “Devil Voodoo,” it’s, “The evening sun inside my bones,” and so on. It’s too much to be a coincidence, and maybe that’s part of what Candlemass are allowing the listener to process as the bass begins the instrumental outro “Cup of Coffin” — I see what you did there — before the quick epilogue riff and a last bit of applause, somewhat jarring because of the otherwise polished presentation of the album. It’s a quizzical finish, but one might read it as the band saluting their fans, and fair enough. 40 years on from Edling‘s first assembling what was called at the time Nemesis and became Candlemass a couple years later, and particularly in light of the last few years of confusion and tragedy, some of which is portrayed here one way or the other, you could hardly fault the band for expressing appreciation to their dedicated fanbase. That is, ultimately, what has sustained them.

Sweet Evil Sun succeeds in pivoting away from The Door to Doom, which honestly is the bulk of its task. Its tracks will speak to fans old and new, and the work as an entirety carries them into the post-pandemic era as the kings of doom that they are. Their presence, their stately delivery, and Edling‘s style of composition, are largely inimitable, and Sweet Evil Sun — familiar in many respects, but welcome in how it speaks to the band’s history and what they’ve already accomplished in this era — reaffirms that in a universe of infinite possibility and a seemingly infinite swath of bands, there’s only ever been and only will be one Candlemass. Long may they reign.

Candlemass, “When Death Sighs” lyric video

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Napalm Records website

Doom legends Candlemass — announced just the other day as headliners for Desertfest Belgium 2022 in Ghent on Oct. 30 — will release a new full-length on Nov. 18 through Napalm Records. What do we know about it? Well, it’s got Leif Edling and Johan Längquist, so already that’s more than enough for me, but considering the Swedish outfit’s 2019 offering, The Door to Doom (review here), was nominated for a Grammy — it’s mentioned twice below; see if you can find it! — for the Tony Iommi-included “Astorolus: The Great Octopus,” the pressure is on Candlemass in a way it hasn’t been in a long time if it ever was before. Where does a band like this — who’ve gone everywhere, done everything, know their sound backwards and forwards, have decades-since worked to define epic doom and are driven by one of the best riff writers of all time in Edling — go after that? I guess we’ll find out.

Today, the band are streaming the new video “Scandinavian Gods” — because, what? they were going to have a song with that title and not use it as a lead single? — and it’s the first new music from Candlemass since 2020’s The Pendulum EP (discussed here), which was more a victory lap after the last album’s success than anything else. Still, the turnaround on Sweet Evil Sun speaks perhaps to Candlemass feeling creatively energized following the success of The Door to Doom, and I don’t care how dark the music ultimately is, if Candlemass are feeling good, that’s good news.

The PR wire has this:

US Grammy-nominated epic doom legends CANDLEMASS return to their roots with the supreme Sweet Evil Sun!

Clocking in almost four decades, it’s no stretch to say that Grammy-nominated Swedish epic doom legends CANDLEMASS are still one of the heaviest metal bands on earth. As the godfathers of epic doom metal, the band defined the genre with releases such as Epicus Doomicus Metallicus (1986) and Nightfall (1987). Through their evil riffs, crushing rhythmic attack and dramatic vocals, they changed the landscape of metal worldwide. Reunited with outstanding original vocalist Johan Langquist, the band around founding member Leif Edling finds its way back to its roots and finally delivers the long awaited, earth-shaking new full-length album, Sweet Evil Sun, out November 18, 2022 via Napalm Records.

Pre-Order your copy of Sweet Evil Sun NOW!

After working on this massive piece of art for 18 months in total, with Sweet Evil Sun, CANDLEMASS brings back all the grandness of their early years, exploring themes of ambition and strife, hope and failure. Opening track “Wizard Of The Vortex” instantly casts a spell with a riff so powerful, the listener is immediately ensnared. Title track “Sweet Evil Sun” kicks in with warning guitar feedback before sludging a heavy-as-hell riff as Johan Langquist deftly warbles through melancholic, beckoning passages and a hooky chorus. His imposing vocals fit each riff and tone perfectly, emerging as an instrument in itself. The dark, classic rock-tinged Nordic metal anthem “Scandinavian Gods” reveals a perfect musical interaction between slow and heavy drums, droning guitars and majestic vocals as they convey mysterious tales of Scandinavian mythology to the next generation of doom lovers.

Jennie-Ann Smith (Avatarium) lends her beautiful voice to the theatrical, grim “When Death Sighs”, creating a shimmering, intermingled chorus duet eventually backed by rising organs and a marching rhythm. The haunting atmosphere is highlighted by an amazing guitar solo that reads like a story as it bends and descends, marking the sign of death on the listener’s door. It comes as no surprise that, alongside the band, renowned producer Marcus Jidell captured the band’s massive, smoky guitar tones, powerful drums and larger-than-life vocals, offering a truly unique, high quality sonic experience. The artwork for Sweet Evil Sun was illustrated with the skilled hand of Erik Rovanperä, the architect behind CANDLEMASS’ visual style since Psalms for the Dead (2012).

Leif Edling on the new album:
“Sweet Evil Sun is about hope, striving, adoration and failure. It’s about all the personal battles that you have, but also the never-ending decay of humanity.

The record took over a year to make and there’s not a bad track on it! We had a fantastic time recording it and are really looking forward to the release. It’s Doom, It’s Metal! It is the essence of CANDLEMASS put into one album!”

Recorded at NOX studio in Stockholm, Sweden, Sweet Evil Sun impressively showcases that, after almost 40 years in the game, the creativity of these Swedish doom masters sees no bounds. Through the power of wall-shaking riffs, incredible vocal performances and the blood and spirit of classic heavy metal, Sweet Evil Sun shines as a masterpiece of impending legend that truly honors the epic doom metal cult of CANDLEMASS.

Sweet Evil Sun Tracklist:
1. Wizard Of The Vortex
2. Sweet Evil Sun
3. Angel Battle
4. Black Butterfly
5. When Death Sighs
6. Scandinavian Gods
7. Devil Voodoo
8. Crucified
9. Goddess
10. A Cup Of Coffin (Outro)

Sweet Evil Sun will be available in the following formats:
Ltd. Die Hard Vinyl Box (Napalm Shop only)
2LP Gatefold Sun Yellow (Napalm Shop only)
2LP Gatefold Black
2LP Gatefold Purple
1CD 6pp Digisleeve
CD Digisleeve + Shirt Bundle
Digital Album

Experience CANDLEMASS live in 2022:
19.08.22 DK – Næstved / Næstved Metalfest
20.08.22 NL – Eindhoven / Ijssportcentrum
22.10.22 SE – Sundsvall / Nordfest
30.10.22 BE – Gent / Desertfest Ghent
19.11.22 DE – Würzburg, Hammer of Doom

Candlemass are:
Leif Edling – Bass
Mats “Mappe” Björkman – Guitars (rhythm)
Jan Lindh – Drums
Lars Johansson – Guitars (lead)
Johan Längquist – Vocals

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https://www.instagram.com/candlemass_sweden/
http://www.candlemass.se/

https://www.facebook.com/napalmrecords
http://label.napalmrecords.com/

Candlemass, “Scandinavian Gods” official video

Candlemass and Orange Goblin will headline Deserfest Belgium 2022 in Ghent on Oct. 30. The Swedish doom legends and the kings of Heavy London are the latest announcements for the later Belgian incarnation of Desertfest, which also adds The Devil and the Almighty Blues — who, god damn, are great live — and has kind of quietly become a sonically diverse assemblage of bands from across various subgenres. Granted, neither Monolord, nor Elder, nor Coven, or really any of these bands are new to the festival circuit in Europe, but the Ghent Desertfest feels a little more willing to explore the ether, and I’m not just saying that because they booked Tau and the Drones of Praise, though certainly that doesn’t hurt. And of course, if you’re up for a bit of rock and roll, that will be accommodated as well.

The following came down the PR wire:

DF 2022 GHENT: HEADLINERS! CANDLEMASS and ORANGE GOBLIN, plus THE DEVIL & THE ALMIGHTY BLUES

We have almost completed the line-up for our one-day Ghent extravaganza, and they are all doozies. Headlining the Hallowed Sunday will be literal doom pioneers CANDLEMASS. Severely underrated at the time, they have been restored as true originators, so their place at Desertfest is a sort of homecoming.

Equally legendary are ORANGE GOBLIN, whose immortal discography is only outshined by an epic live reputation. They are simply unable to play a lesser show, which will once again be proven at DF Ghent.

And finally, Norway’s THE DEVIL AND THE ALMIGHTY BLUES are a Desertfest fan favorite that come to share their blues-infused grooves with us.

To reiterate, that makes for one serious list of acts gathered on just one day:
CANDLEMASS – ORANGE GOBLIN – ELDER – PALLBEARER – ENVY – MONOLORD – COVEN – CELESTE – REGARDE LES HOMMES TOMBER – THE DEVIL AND THE ALMIGHTY BLUES – THE DEVIL’S TRADE – WYATT E. – IRIST – STEAK – TAU & THE DRONES OF PRAISE – GGU:LL

And there might be another name added to this holy list! So stay tuned and don’t pass up on this cornucopia of psychedelic goodness! Take it as one measured dose, or combine it with the Antwerp weekend for a Rocktober of epic proportions. The prices remain the same:

DF ANTWERP & GHENT REDUCED COMBI: 149 Euros
(valid 4 days: 14-16/10 – Antwerp & 30/10 – Ghent)

DF ANTWERP ONLY REDUCED COMBI: 120 Euros
(valid 3 days: 14-16/10 – Antwerp)

DF ANTWERP ONLY REDUCED DAY TICKET: 58 Euros
(valid 1 day: 14, 15 or 16/10 – Antwerp)

DF GHENT ONLY REDUCED DAY TICKET: 52 Euros
(valid 1 day: 30/10 – Ghent)

GET ALL YOUR COMBI & DAY TICKETS HERE: https://desertfest.be/antwerp/information/ticketing/

Stay tuned for further updates very soon!

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Candlemass, Live in Houston, Texas, April 22, 2022

Candlemass, Candlemass (2005)

As they’ve done so much in the 15 years since to add to it, it’s almost strange to consider that by the time Candlemass got back together and released their declarative self-titled full-length in 2005, the band’s legacy had already been so long established and, in some ways, squandered. The band had broken up following 1999’s From the 13th Sun, and by then, the Stockholm-based mainstays seemed to have been floundering for some time. Their first four albums were and are largely untouchable. Essential documents of doom, all, from the still-influential 1986 debut, Epicus Doomicus Metallicus, to the holy trilogy of LPs fronted by Messiah Marcolin in 1987’s Nightfall (discussed here), 1988’s Ancient Dreams (discussed here) and 1989’s Tales of Creation. Issued in a new alliance with Nuclear Blast Records, Candlemass‘ Candlemass was intended as a fourth installment in that grand lineage of Marcolin-fronted albums.

Founded by bassist Leif Edling and fueled as ever by his songcraft, the band had basked in Sabbathian tradition of seeing vocalists come and go, including Thomas Vikström on 1992’s Chapter VI and Björn Flodkvist on 1998’s Dactylis Glomerata and the aforementioned once-swansong From the 13th Sun. The trio of instrumentalists in guitarists Mats “Mappe” Björkman and Lars “Lasse” Johansson and drummer Jan Lindh had been in the band until a breakup circa 1994, and in addition to pushing outside the range of epic doom for which Candlemass had become known, Edling experimented with other lineups and other players during those years, which built off the work he did in the post-Candlemass project, Abstrakt Algebra, whose lone, self-titled album came out in 1995.

Okay. So it’s a complicated history with Candlemass. Established. Fine. Perhaps it’s best, then, to look at the self-titled not just as a declaration of purpose, but as a complete reorganization of mission for the band. Reformed with Edling, Marcolin, Björkman, Johansson and Lindh, signed to a new label with a nine-song/55-minute (more if you got the version with the bonus track “Mars and Volcanoes”), Candlemass entered a new era with this record and it’s one that has in some ways defined their course over the 15 years since. The strong launch given to the outing in “Black Dwarf” and the likewise catchy “Seven Silver Keys” — on which Edling seems to anticipate riffs Tony Iommi would come up with himself a few years later for Heaven and Hell — soars with righteousness, and the band as a whole are and Marcolin in particular is in top form.

“Assassin of the Light” is quintessential, powerful doom metal, with a highlight solo from Johansson and a modern take on the kind of grandiosity for which the original Marcolin era was known. Building toward the seven-minute “Copernicus,” this initial salvo sets the tone for everything to follow throughout Candlemass, whether it’s the instrumental “The Man Who Fell From the Sky,” the nod-chugger “Witches” — if you can find me a better opening lyric for a doom song than “Someone stole the starlight from the backside of your hand,” I’d love to know what it is — or the head-scratcher “Born in a Tank,” which goes back and forth between talking about being buried alive in dirt and born in a tank of water in some kind of weird sci-fi scenario that boasts the line, “Buried alive like a dog,” leading one inevitably to wonder just who the hell it is burying dogs alive and why is no one stopping them from doing this awful thing? It’s a great riff and an energetic kick after the hypnotic chugging finish of “Witches,” but someone please call animal control and tell them what’s going on and see if we can put a stop to the horror.

In hindsight, the band might’ve been better off swapping “Born in a Tank” with “Mars and Volcanoes,” which as noted, ended up a bonus track on the limited-edition version of the CD. The two songs share a speedier tempo, but one suspects it was that riff that ultimately made the choice. So be it. The album proper finishes with the pairing of “Spellbreaker” (7:02) and “The Day and the Night” (8:53), a last push that answers the reach of “Copernicus” back at the end of side A and goes that much further into the classic-doom feel that Candlemass helped define in the first place, a pair of stops in “Spellbreaker” reminiscent of “Mirror, Mirror” from Ancient Dreams and the quiet unfolding of “The Day and the Night” leading to a massive concluding march worthy not only of finishing the record and emphasizing the titular duality, but fading while still in progress, Marcolin repeating the line, “I’m lost in the dark,” on his way out as if to enact being actually swallowed up by a great nothingness of silence. Doom. A masterclass therein.

This era of Candlemass, somewhat sadly, didn’t last. The band split with Marcolin ahead of 2007’s King of the Grey Islands — one recalls Edling at the time calling him “crazy” — and wound up recruiting Texas’ Robert Lowe, best known for his work in Solitude Aeturnus and currently back with his prior outfit, Tyrant. Lowe completed his own trilogy of albums in that one, 2009’s Death Magic Doom (review here) and 2012’s Psalms for the Dead (review here) as well as a smattering of EPs and singles, before likewise parting ways with Edling and company. Mats Levén, who already had years of performing alongside Edling to his credit and who had completed demos for King of the Grey Islands before Lowe joined, took up the role and performed ably on EPs in 2016 and 2018, but as Johan Längquist — who sang on Epicus Doomicus Metallicus in 1986 but was never actually a member of the band — joined on for 2019’s The Door to Doom (review here) in a landmark return, the group again switched directions. And considering they were nominated for a Grammy for the track “Astorolus – The Great Octopus,” which featured a guest solo from Tony Iommi himself — touched by the hand of god, it was — it’s safe to say the change worked out in the band’s favor.

Earlier this year, Candlemass released the EP The Pendulum (discussed here) and likely would’ve hit a number of festivals and tour dates, etc., were it not for the global pandemic. A live stream in July (review here) helped keep their palpable forward momentum going and demonstrated the utter vitality of their approach all the more resonant some 35 years on from their first demo tapes, and I won’t profess to know what’ll come next for them, but it’s worth looking back at their accomplishments of the last decade and a half and noting that this self-titled was the point at which they restarted and firmly stated who they were and what their intentions were as a group. They’ve only lived up to that since.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

A little bit after 6AM. Sun’s not quite up yet. Went for a run in between the top part of this post and this. About 1.3 miles, same course through the neighborhood I do basically every other day — though I usually give myself one bye a week to account for timing, feeling crappy, being busy as I was yesterday, kid or dog being up early, and so on. There’s a big hill just up the road that is satisfying to climb at a jog. I’ve been doing so long enough where I can get to the top without dragging my feet and that feels good. I also have a stretch where I run on the balls of my feet and a stretch where I high-step a little bit and a sprint to finish. It’s a whole thing. I stretch before and after, work on breathing, try not to be crazy about it. Try try try. All you can do.

The left side of my groin has been tight for like two months. Stretch stretch stretch. Trying to live by the Ichiro Suzuki model. Dude stretched every other second of his career. That shit matters as you get older.

Two cool-looking objects in the sky besides the moon despite the beginning-to-dawn day. I assume one was Jupiter or Mars, that’s closer to the moon, and the other has to be Venus. It’s practically punching you in the face with yellow. Star-viewing around here isn’t the best because of light pollution, but I’ll take what I can get. I’ve seen some nice sunrises too.

The Pecan was coming with me for a while. We were going later — after he got up, obviously. But he kind of decided he didn’t want to do it anymore and I didn’t really feel like making him and myself miserable. I ask him every now and again if he wants to go. I asked yesterday before we took him to daycare if he wanted to go for a run, reminded him of some of his favorite landmarks, and it basically took the entire morning off the rails. He’s starting hitting again, and he bites himself when he’s frustrated. He still hits and kicks the dog with every available opportunity. I guess that’s just what life is now. Kid’s rainboot being brought down heel-first on the dog’s head in the back seat of the car. Wham.

He blew off nap yesterday as well, so I took him to his favorite sandbox to basically kill time letting him play. He wanted to go on the swings and wouldn’t accept “in a little bit” so ran up to where I was sitting and slapped me in the face. I picked him up and we left, him literally kicking and screaming as I put him back in his car seat. It was substantially less than fun.

The week was like that. Ups and downs.

They buried my father I think on Wednesday. In Pennsylvania, a national cemetery because he was in the Air Force. They put Vietnam on his memorial but he never went. My sister called to correct and they took basically my position, which was “whatever who cares he’s dead,” but fine. That’s done.

We’re going to the zoo today with The Patient Mrs.’ mother, sister, and her sister’s two kids, all of whom are lovely. It’s the kind of thing one might look forward to in a normal year. Zoos, if you didn’t know, are immoral as shit. To think that we, as a species, stand around and pretend some lion is fucking happy walking back and forth in a pen for its entire life when it should be out there chasing down zebras and giraffes and the occasional human out on the savanna? You gotta be kidding me. But you know what? I got a kid, and that kid wants to see an elephant, and I know elephants are intelligent, thinking, feeling creatures, but fuck it, there it is. Rainboot on the dog’s head. The choices we make. I don’t expect history to be kind to us. I do expect the future to be blind to its own failings.

Speaking of, anyone outright terrified of the presidential election yet? Did Trump declare victory yet? It’s kind of astounding to think I might actually be alive to witness the downfall of American democracy to some half-assed Putin wannabe who used social media to sublimate an entire political party to his every will. And a global pandemic! Wow. If I didn’t have to then live with the ramifications of it — I don’t know, maybe a cross between The Handmaid’s Tale and even more cops killing Black people while millions are out of work aching for a resurgent Civil War? — it would be a fascinating science experiment. To the rest of the world, hi from the test tube. Guard your votes, kids.

The Pecan’s up, which is fair enough as it’s after 6:30 now. He’s reading books (such as he does), but I should probably go grab him. Two quick things:

1. New Gimme show today. 5PM Eastern. Please listen. I promise it’s good. http://gimmemetal.com.

2. Next week is PACKED. Doubled up most days. Lot of good stuff as we move into Fall, so keep an eye out.

Meantime, great and safe weekend. See you at the zoo, though I probably won’t recognize you because of the mask. Ha.

Much love.

FRM.

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The stage was set, the lights were lit, the fog machine was rolling out a steady haze, and legit doom legends Candlemass brought an immediate sense of presence to their July 3 streamed concert at Studio Gröndahl in Stockholm. One has to wonder how many ‘new’ experiences are left to the Swedish outfit headed by bassist and principal songwriter Leif Edling, but surely a streamed show would be one of them. The group are 34 years on from their ultra-seminal 1986 debut, Epicus Doomicus Metallicus, which helped pave the way for what traditionalist and doom metals subsequently became, and as a fan of the band, any opportunity to see them with vocalist Johan Längquist — who sang on that first record and then left the band ne’er to return until 2019’s The Door to Doom (review here), from which only the Grammy-nominated “Astorolus – The Great Octopus” was aired. They were, to put it mildly, robbed.

Now then, Längquist, Edling, guitarists Mats “Mappe” Björkman (joined in 1985) and Lars “Lasse” Johansson (joined in ’87) and drummer Jan Lindh (also ’87) are veteran performers, who probably had a considerable amount of touring planned for 2020 to support the album, the follow-up-take-advantage-of-momentum EP, The Pendulum (discussed here), and perhaps even Edling‘s righteous beard, which surely is on the list of correct choices the band have made in the last decade. Those plans, obviously, evaporated in a cloud of pandemic statistics — like so much else — but with this stream, its important to note that they still put on a show. Goes without saying it wasn’t the same as seeing the band live, and I’ve been very, very, very fortunate to do that on more than one occasion, including the 2011 reunion set that first brought Längquist back to the lineup. About which, yes, I will brag forever; thank you, Roadburn 2011.

But this was a concert, and having seen a few acts bring different approaches to the advent of streaming live shows — everything from acoustic-guitar-in-the-kitchen to outside-at-a-would-be-festival — Candlemass‘ stream felt decidedly like a concert video in the classic metal sense. Production company Blackbox, which hosted the stream through its page, embedding a live YouTube player with a live chat, ran a professional shop. The lighting, the previously-noted fog, the quick cuts between multiple cameras, moving around, some at exaggerated upward angles, some head-on, even the candles lit around the room and the bouquets of flowers on Lindh‘s drum kit made it feel less like a studio space and more like a stage. It was a fitting environment for Candlemass to break out so many of their classics, from the opening “The Well of Souls” and “Dark Are the Veils of Death” from 1987’s Nightfall (discussed here) and “Mirror Mirror” from 1988’s Ancient Dreams (discussed here), to “Dark Reflections” from 1989’s Tales of Creation to landmarks like “Bewitched,” “Mirror Mirror” from the same era.

That era, which started with Längquist being replaced by vocalist Messiah Marcolin, ended after Tales of Creation (the blip that was the 2004 reunion notwithstanding), and while the debut was duly represented in “Under the Oak,” “A Sorcerer’s Pledge” and “Solitude,” which rounded out, it was interesting to see Längquist take on Marcolin‘s parts, their voices being of different character. Though the band also played a new song — listed as “Nytt Riff,” which is ‘new’ in Swedish — it was noted in the chat that the entire period in which the band was fronted by Solitude Aeturnus/Tyrant vocalist Robert Lowe was left out. Hazards, one assumes, of having a catalog full of classics. Perhaps Candlemass assumed that those seeking them out for a live-stream experience would be more established fans looking for ‘the old stuff’ as opposed to something from 2007’s King of the Grey Islands, 2009’s Death Magic Doom (review here) or 2012’s Psalms for the Dead (review here). I don’t know that they were wrong in that, and with a set time a little over an hour, keeping it to the most essential essentials was fair enough. Maybe if they start taking requests for another one I’ll ask for “Emperor of the Void” and see how it goes.

Last time I did a stream review, I was struck by the shift in experience between going to a show and putting one on — how rather than be something separate from a regular, day-to-day existence, the show became a part of it. I suppose it wouldn’t be any different for any live event being televised, but with the change from physically moving yourself from your home to a venue to see a band to not doing that, it’s a big change. To wit, when the stream started, I was on the highway. I turned it on on my phone, turned the speaker up and sang along to “Mirror Mirror” while my toddler called out different trucks he saw from the back seat. And when I got home, I unpacked the car from an overnight trip and changed a diaper while watching. By the time I finally got to sit down and live with it a little bit, they were through the solo and Hammond-laced roll of “Nytt Riff” — which one assumes would get vocals at some point, but was a welcome inclusion as an instrumental anyhow — and on into “A Sorcerer’s Pledge” nearing the end of their time. It was an 8PM start for Europe, so that made plenty of sense, but I was and remain thankful for the ability to rewatch afterward, for whatever limited time the stream is still available.

I know that the notion of bands streaming live shows like this instead of doing concerts and touring is new, and I know that they’re certainly no replacement for seeing a band live, but Candlemass more than held their own under the circumstances. Periodically mugging for the cameras, they seemed to be enjoying the chance to deliver a show of any sort to an audience. And though the pauses between songs brought a kind of awkward silence where applause would be and the video screen behind them went under-used except during those transitions, the big rock finish as “A Sorcerer’s Pledge” moved into “Solitude” was nothing if not earned by that performance and all that came before it, and the inclusion of what I assume was soundcheck footage of “Demon’s Gate” after the show-proper made for a smart twist on the idea of an encore, so while there were lessons to take going forward from this new experience, Candlemass gave their virtual crowd something to be happy to have witnessed, as well as a limited ‘Ancient Streams’ t-shirt to pick up afterward. Clever.

Can’t go see Candlemass, and that’s a bummer. But god damn, it felt good to see Candlemass.

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The statistics of COVID-19 change with every news cycle, and with growing numbers, stay-at-home isolation and a near-universal disruption to society on a global scale, it is ever more important to consider the human aspect of this coronavirus. Amid the sad surrealism of living through social distancing, quarantines and bans on gatherings of groups of any size, creative professionals — artists, musicians, promoters, club owners, techs, producers, and more — are seeing an effect like nothing witnessed in the last century, and as humanity as a whole deals with this calamity, some perspective on who, what, where, when and how we’re all getting through is a needed reminder of why we’re doing so in the first place.

Thus, Days of Rona, in some attempt to help document the state of things as they are now, both so help can be asked for and given where needed, and so that when this is over it can be remembered.

Thanks to all who participate. To read all the Days of Rona coverage, click here. — JJ Koczan

Days of Rona: Leif Edling of Candlemass (Stockholm, Sweden)

—

How are you dealing with this crisis as a band? Have you had to rework plans at all? How is everyone’s health so far?

Everybody in the band are okay, fingers crossed. It’s not fun to have all your gigs cancelled or postponed, but we do what we can to do something constructive anyways.

For instance we are planning a live streaming show at the end of the month. Not one of those homemade things that are popular right now, but in a big studio, and with a filmcrew present. :-)

I really hope this will happen. A fun thing for us to do in these strange corona times, also an alternative for those shows that didn’t happen this evil spring.

What are the quarantine/isolation rules where you are?

In Sweden we can gather up to 50 people at the same time, so we can go to the pub and eat in a restaurant, as long as we keep a distance of 1-2 meters.

We don’t have a totally out of control outbreak either. It’s more under the surface as of now, so we’re waiting for the eruption to come. And of course hope it never does….

But everybody I know sit at home, as I do, read a lot, watch Netflix and HBO, clean the house, fixing the basement, sorting the vinyls (again).

How have you seen the virus affecting the community around you and in music?

People are losing their jobs, shops close, economy goes down… people are trying to keep a positive attitude but that bit you see is harder and harder to maintain.

Personally I think that is one of the most important things now in these hard times — be positive, don’t lose faith. We will prevail and come out of this better then ever before!

I’m sure there will be many records and songs written about the pandemic… the Corona pest!

What is the one thing you want people to know about your situation, either as a band, or personally, or anything?

I’m not important. What is key is that we don’t panic. Just take it easy, try to be positive, stay at home, support your near and dear AND also your neighbours. Not with visits, phone them, email, shop groceries for the elderly close.

And don’t forget to listen to A LOT of hard rock and metal! That part is VERY IMPORTANT!

WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/CANDLEMASS
https://www.instagram.com/CANDLEMASS_SWEDEN/
http://www.candlemass.se/
WWW.NAPALMRECORDS.COM

Everything here is new. All of it. I didn’t do a classic track or anything like that. Just straight up new music. This playlist originally started coming together before I did the last episode, and I wound up scrapping it and going with the Reed Mullin tribute instead. Certainly no regrets there, but it’s not like I didn’t want to play new Candlemass, so here it is a couple weeks later.

So everything is new. Some of it is instrumental. Cegvera, Kanaan, Saturno Grooves and Kungens Män at least, and if I think a full two-hour show with 13 songs might be the fewest I’ve ever done, which means that, on average, these are the longest songs. Whatever. I thought the show hit a good flow with some rocking stuff early in new Geezer and the Maryland doom of Galactic Cross, gets super-heavy for a minute and then trips out, but whatever. If you don’t agree, don’t listen I guess. I don’t get ratings figures or anything, but I don’t imagine I’m busting the doors down at Gimme Radio every Friday at 5PM.  I know that’s drive-time, but do the ancient ways of broadcast timeslots still apply when people are using apps to hear it? Rest assured, I have no idea.

Either way, thanks if you can listen. Sorry to be a bother if you can’t. If you want to look at this is as a list of bands I think you should check out, then fine. I ain’t trying to sell anyone anything, but of course appreciate your support.

The Obelisk Show airs 5PM Eastern today at http://gimmeradio.com

Full playlist:

The Obelisk Show – 03.06.20

The Obelisk Show on Gimme Radio airs every Friday 5PM Eastern, with replays Sunday at 7PM Eastern. Next new episode is March 20 (subject to change). Thanks for listening if you do.

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