Austrian black-metal magus Matthias Sollak realizes his panoramic vision for Mӕre via cues from prog, shoegaze, and neo-classical.
For all the black-metal bona fides Matthias Sollak has accumulated as a guitarist, his musical range extends into areas you might not expect from a 31-year-old who's been running with headbangers for most of his life. Even during his long stint with Bifröst, the band he co-founded in his native Salzburg, Austria, at the age of 16, he brought elements as far afield as bagpipes, folk instruments, and keyboard samples to a freewheeling and unpredictable sound that helped set the group apart from their self-avowed "pagan metal" contemporaries.
Sollak launched Harakiri for the Sky with singer-lyricist Michael V. Wahntraum (known simply as J.J.) in 2011, while he was still a member of Bifröst. Conceived as an outlet to explore a more personal narrative in their songwriting, HFTS quickly became a full-time pursuit for Sollak, whose primal riffs, intricate melodic textures, and instinctive feel for subtle and moody dynamics put his peers on notice. A versatile guitarist with a producer's ear, Sollak wrote all the music and played all the instruments, including drums, on the duo's first three albums, only giving up the kit to veteran death metal drummer Kerim "Krimh" Lechner beginning with 2018's Arson.
In the past, I could always cheat a little bit with a lot of distortion, but as soon as you crank it down, it automatically forces you … to hit the downstrokes harder and play tighter.
Mӕre, the group's new double-disc epic, finds Sollak and friends crafting an even wider and more diverse sonic palette. Gloom, doom and redemptive catharsis still play their roles, but there's a quasi-shoegaze feel to the album opener "I, Pallbearer," which concludes with a lone guitar soloing in the murky distance behind a poignant piano melody. "Sing for the Damage We've Done" builds slowly and resolutely in its gradual onslaught before pivoting into an Opeth-like break, stripped down to the barest prog essentials with guest vocalist Stéphane Paut, known to French metal fans as Neige, from the band Alcest. And these are just the first two songs—so there's a lot more to Mӕre than the term "post-black metal" can do justice.
It was a long road to get there, and, as Sollak describes it, HFTS wrapped production under unusual circumstances. "We got pretty lucky because we finished the recording two weeks before we went into [COVID-19] lockdown," he recalls. "The only thing we still had going on were some of the guest vocals, which was a bit problematic because Neige is living in Paris, and they had the toughest lockdown of all. But by then we had to delay the release anyhow."
As it turned out, Sollak was able to make maximum use of the extra time during the album's mixing phase. But to grasp how he did, first it helps to understand how he changed up his routine to record the guitars on Mӕre. "We always have the music and the lyrics worked out before we go to the studio," he says. "I write the music and send it to Jimbo [J.J.], and he writes the lyrics—we have a strict separation because it just works for us." From there, Sollak relies on a Kemper Profiler to layer his guitar tracks, and normally records the rhythm parts on his trusty Jericho Elite with the Kemper's distortion effect cranked.
This time, however, he took a different approach. "I was definitely not going with the full-blast distorted sound," Sollak explains, "but I was listening to the actual DI track while we were recording. We had the distorted sound mixed into the background, because that automatically forces you to play way tighter. In the past, I could always cheat a little bit with a lot of distortion, but as soon as you crank it down, it automatically forces you, with the rhythm guitars, to hit the downstrokes harder and play tighter, and I think that's something you can hear in the overall sound."
Although Harakiri for the Sky have earned their place in the contemporary heavy music spotlight, Matthias Sollak has eschewed shredding, sweep picking, and other genre conventions to concentrate on songwriting and the specific techniques—and instruments—his songs require.
Photo by Soralover
Sollak mixed the album with Vienna-based producer Daniel Fellner, whose own history as lead singer and guitarist for the now-defunct Devastating Enemy was integral in raising the sonic stakes on Mӕre. "He has a huge amount of amplifiers," Sollak says, "so we decided to try them out and just reamp everything. We used some typical things, like a Peavey 5150, a Marshall JCM800, a Fender Bassman, and a really old Framus Dragon, but the freakiest thing was using a Roland Jazz Chorus for the clean sounds. It just sounded really good, and I would have never imagined using such an amplifier. It was just sitting around, so we thought, 'Hey let's try this out.' That was definitely a mind-opening experience."
Sollak and Fellner also used different amps on the left and right sides of the stereo mix, and reamped with very little gain. Taken together, the reamping and mixing techniques bring out all the articulation and complex melodies in "I'm All About the Dusk," an 11-minute excursion that, in some sections, rolls thick with as many as four guitar parts. "Silver Needle // Golden Dawn"—which features a cameo from the nameless lead singer of Portugal's mysterious black metallurgists Gaerea—is another instance where the song benefits from careful reamping and attention to dynamics. It actually recalls the compression-heavy, high-transient sound that Tom Scholz perfected back in the mid '70s on the first Boston album, only heavier.
TIDBIT: For Mӕre's solos and lead lines, Sollak dipped into producer Daniel Fellner's amp collection, which included a Peavey 5150, a Marshall JCM800, a Fender Bassman, a Framus Dragon, and a Roland JC-120.
But the song that really lights a roaring fire under Mӕre is "Us Against December Skies." Sollak's favored drop-D-flat tuning helps define the mood. He opens with a siren-like repeating octave, accentuated by chord punches that Lechner echoes with precision on the drumkit, before a soaring, almost Wagnerian wave of sound takes hold—a symphony of guitars that seems to inspire J.J. to pin his vocal performance in the red. About halfway through, everything stops on a dime, with another round of chord punches opening the door for a guitar lead (after J.J. full-throats the line "You can touch the sky") that Sollak develops into a theme, pushing the song to its coda: a dialed-back groove with stacked clean guitars that quickly surges into yet another wave—this one positive, powerful, and uplifting.
"I love when the song builds up, goes back a bit, and then explodes again," Sollak raves. "If you already have a repeating riff, and then, for example, the vocals drop out all of a sudden, it needs to expand in another way, which I usually do by adding another guitar melody so it doesn't totally die down. I try to alternate everything a little bit. So there are some parts that are similar, but then I might add a piano melody. If you want someone to pay attention for 10 minutes, then you have to create music in an interesting way."
As gifted as he is in arranging and producing, Sollak insists he's a shirker in the woodshed. He took up classical piano at a very young age but lost the patience for it. Getting his hands on his first electric guitar inspired him almost immediately to start writing and arranging. He used early versions of Guitar Pro and Magix Music Maker to teach himself how to sample beats, create sequences, and record tracks—so learning to shred became less of a priority.
Matthias Sollak's Gear
Guitars
- FGN Mythic 6
- Fender Limited-Edition Daybreak Telecaster
- Fender Jim Root Tele
- Jericho Fusion Blacktop
- Jericho Elite
- ESP Horizon
- Godin LGX
- Schecter JL-7
- Epiphone Les Paul Classic
- Sire Marcus Miller V7 bass
Amps
- Kemper Profiler
- Peavey Triple XXX
- Peavey 5150
- Fender Bassman (studio)
- Marshall JCM800 (studio)
- Roland JC-120 (studio)
- Framus Dragon (studio)
Effects
- TC Electronic Flashback
- TC Electronic Hall of Fame
- Maxon OD808
- ISP Technologies Decimator
Strings & Picks
- Elixir (.011–.049 and .012–.052 sets)
- Nologo picks .76 mm standard
"I'm really, really lazy when it comes to practicing," he quips. "I'm not a fast shredder, and I'm not good at sweep-picking and all this stuff, but by writing more music and trying to mature with it, I definitely got better—just less sloppy with everything, with no special focus on a certain technique. In general, it gets more important to me not just to play anything, but to play those things that I can play as tight as possible."
Considering that Sollak started out by diving into the deep end—by age 10, he was already listening to In Flames classics like Whoracle and Clayman—it's no surprise that chasing the sound he had in his head became a lifelong mission. Along the way, he discovered Iron Maiden, and then eventually Deftones and Placebo—bands with low-tuned guitars who wrote distinctively melancholic melodies.
"I didn't have this classic thing going from '70s bands to harder music," he says. "It was all completely mixed up, but maybe it influenced me as well in my style of playing. Back then, I just went to the record stores with this really small, hard and heavy section, and I tried to listen to Sadist or other bands that sounded similar because I was just in love with old In Flames. Later on, I listened to Nirvana and all this other stuff that came."
Co-bandleaders Sollak and vocalist J.J. have recorded most of their group's catalog themselves, but onstage Harakiri for the Sky expands into a 5-piece.
Photo by Helsing Photo
Fittingly, Mӕre closes with a cover of Placebo's "Song to Say Goodbye," which was on a short list of tunes Sollak wanted to cover. "It was easy to choose," he says, "because J.J. said he has a personal connection with that song from when he was younger. He's not as big a fan as I am, but I think with Placebo in general, when you read their lyrics and listen to their music, it's not too different from what we do. They're very thoughtful, very melancholy songs, mostly."
YouTube It: Harakiri for the Sky - "Stillborn"
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An '80s-era cult favorite is back.
Originally released in the 1980s, the Victory has long been a cult favorite among guitarists for its distinctive double cutaway design and excellent upper-fret access. These new models feature flexible electronics, enhanced body contours, improved weight and balance, and an Explorer headstock shape.
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Gibson Victory Figured Top Electric Guitar - Iguana Burst
Victory Figured Top Iguana BurstThe English guitarist expands his extensive discography with 1967: Vacations in the Past, an album paired with a separate book release, both dedicated to the year 1967 and the 14-year-old version of himself that still lives in him today.
English singer-songwriter Robyn Hitchcock is one of those people who, in his art as well as in his every expression, presents himself fully, without scrim. I don’t know if that’s because he intends to, exactly, or if it’s just that he doesn’t know how to be anyone but himself. And it’s that genuine quality that privileges you or I, as the listener, to recognize him in tone or lyrics alone, the same way one knows the sound of Miles Davis’ horn within an instant of hearing it—or the same way one could tell Hitchcock apart in a crowd by his vibrantly hued, often loudly patterned fashion choices.
Itchycoo Park
“I like my songs, but I don’t necessarily think I’m the best singer of them,” he effaces to me over Zoom, as it’s approaching midnight where he’s staying in London. “I just wanted to be a singer-songwriter because that’s what Bob Dylan did. And I like to create; I’m happiest when I’m producing something. But my records are blueprints, really. They just show you what the song could be, but they’re not necessarily the best performance of them. Whereas if you listen to … oh, I don’t know, the great records of ’67, they actually sound like the best performances you could get.”
He mentions that particular year not offhandedly, but because that’s the theme of the conversation: He’s just released an album, 1967: Vacations in the Past, which is a collection of covers of songs released in 1967, and one original song—the title track. Boasting his takes on Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play,” and Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park,” among eight other tracks, it serves as a sort of soundtrack or musical accompaniment to his new memoir, 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left.
Hitchcock, who was 14 years old and attending boarding school in England in 1967, describes how who he is today is encased in that period of his life, much like a mosquito in amber. But why share that with the world now?
In the mid ’70s, before he launched his solo career, Hitchcock was the leader of the psychedelic group the Soft Boys.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
“I’m 71; I’ve been alive quite a long time,” he shares. “If I want to leave a record of anything apart from all the songs I’ve written, now is a good time to do it. By writing about 1966 to ’67, I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
Hopefully, I say, the publication of these works won’t ring as some sort of death knell for him.
“Well, it’s a relative death knell,” he replies. “But everyone’s on the conveyor belt. We all go over the edge. And none of our legacies are permanent. Even the plastic chairs and Coke bottles and stuff like that that we’re leaving behind.... In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth. But I suppose you do probably get to an age where you want to try and explain yourself, maybe to yourself. Maybe it’s me that needs to read the book, you know?”
“I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
To counter his description of his songs above, I would say that Hitchcock’s performances on 1967: Vacations in the Past carve out their own deserved little planet in the vintage-rock Milky Way. I was excited in particular by some of his selections: the endorsement of foundational prog in the Procol Harum cover; the otherwise forgotten Traffic tune, “No Face, No Name and No Number,” off of Mr. Fantasy, the Mamas & the Papas’ nostalgic “San Francisco,” and of course, the aforementioned Floyd single. There’s also the lesser known “My White Bicycle” by Tomorrow and “I Can Hear the Grass Grow” by the Move, and the Hendrix B-side, “Burning of the Midnight Lamp.”
Through these recordings, Hitchcock pays homage to “that lovely time when people were inventing new strands of music, and they couldn’t define them,” he replies. “People didn’t really know what to call Pink Floyd. Was it jazz, or was it pop, or psychedelia, or freeform, or systems music?”
His renditions call to mind a cooking reduction, defined by Wikipedia as “the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a liquid mixture, such as a soup, sauce, wine, or juice, by simmering or boiling.” Hitchcock’s distinctive, classic folk-singer voice and steel-string-guided arrangements do just that to this iconic roster. There are some gentle twists and turns—Eastern-instrumental touches; subtly applied, ethereal delay and reverb, and the like—but nothing that should cloud the revived conduit to the listener’s memory of the originals.
And yet, here’s his review of his music, in general: “I hear [my songs] back and I think, ‘God, my voice is horrible! This is just … ugh! Why do I sing through my nose like that?’ And the answer is because Bob Dylan sang through his nose, you know. I was just singing through Bob Dylan’s nose, really.”
1967: Vacations in the Pastfeatures 11 covers of songs that were released in 1967, and one original song—the title track.
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“I wait for songs to come to me: They’re independent like cats, rather than like dogs who will faithfully trail you everywhere,” Hitchcock explains, sharing about his songwriting process. “All I can do is leave a plate of food out for the songs—in the form of my open mind—and hope they will appear in there, hungry for my neural pathways.”
Once he’s domesticated the wild idea, he says, “It’s important to remain as unselfconscious as possible in the [writing] process. If I start worrying about composing the next line, the embryonic song slips away from me. Often I’m left with a verse-and-a-half and an unresolved melody because my creation has lost its innocence and fled from my brain.
“[Then] there are times when creativity itself is simply not what’s called for: You just have to do some more living until the songs appear again. That’s as close as I can get to describing the process, which still, thankfully, remains mysterious to me after all this time.”
“In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth.”
In the prose of 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left, Hitchcock expresses himself similarly to how he does so distinctively in his lyrics and speech. Amidst his tales of roughing his first experiences in the infamously ruthless environs of English boarding school, he shares an abundance of insight about his parents and upbringing, as well as a self-diagnosis of having Asperger’s syndrome—whose name is now gradually becoming adapted in modern lexicon to “low-support-needs” autism spectrum disorder. When I touch on the subject, he reaffirms the observation, and elaborates, “I think I probably am also OCD, whatever that means. I’ve always been obsessed with trying to get things in the right order.”
He relates an anecdote about his school days: “So, if I got out of lunch—‘Yippee! I’ve got three hours to dress like a hippie before they put me back in my school clothes. Oh damn, I’ve put the purple pants on, but actually, I should put the red ones on. No! I put the red ones on; it’s not good—I’ll put my jeans on.’
Robyn Hitchcock's Gear
Hitchcock in 1998, after embarking on the tour behind one of his earlier acoustic albums, Moss Elixir.
Guitars
- Two Fylde Olivia acoustics equipped with Sennheiser II lavalier mics (for touring)
- Larrivée acoustic
- Fender Telecaster
- Fender Stratocaster
Strings & Picks
- Elixir .011–.052 (acoustic)
- Ernie Ball Skinny Top Heavy Bottom .010–.054 (electric)
- Dunlop 1.0 mm
“I’d just get into a real state. And then the only thing that would do would be listening to Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart. There was something about Trout Mask that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa! This music is it.’”
With him having chosen to cover “See Emily Play,” a Syd Barrett composition, the conversation soon turns to the topic of the late, troubled songwriter. I comment, “It’s hard to listen to Syd’s solo records.... It’s weird that people enabled that. You can hear him losing his mind.”
“You can, but at the same time, the fact they enabled it means that these things did come out,” Robyn counters. “And he obviously had nothing else to give after that. So, at least, David Gilmour and the old Floyd guys.... It meant they gave the world those songs, which, although the performances are quite … rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“There was something about Trout Mask Replica that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa!’”
I briefly compare Barrett to singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston, and we agree there are some similarities. And then with a segue, ask, “When did you first fall in love with the guitar? Was it when you came home from boarding school and found the guitar your parents gifted you on your bed?”
Robyn pauses thoughtfully.“Ah, I think I liked the idea of the guitar probably around that time,” he shares. “I always used to draw men with guns. I’m not really macho, but I had a very kind of post-World War II upbringing where men were always carrying guns. And I thought, ‘Well, if he’s a man, he’s got to carry a gun.’ Then, around the age of 13, I swapped the gun for the guitar. And then every man I drew was carrying a guitar instead.”
Elaborating on getting his first 6-string, he says, “I had lessons from a man who had three fingers bent back from an industrial accident. He was a nice old man with whiskers, and he showed me how to get the guitar in tune and what the basic notes were. And then I got hold of a Bob Dylan songbook, and—‘Oh my gosh, I can play “Mr. Tambourine Man!”’ It was really fast—about 10 minutes between not being able to play anything, and suddenly being able to play songs by my heroes.”
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Hitchcock does me the kindness, during our atypically deep conversation—at least, for a press interview—of sharing more acute perceptions of his parents, and their own neurodivergence. Ultimately, he feels that his mother didn’t necessarily like him, but loved the idea of him—and that later in life, he came to better understand his lonely, depressive father. “My mother was protective but in an oddly cold way. People are like that,” he shares. “We just contain so many things that don’t make sense with each other: colors that you would not mix as a painter; themes you would not intermingle as a writer; characters you would not create.... We defy any sense of balance or harmony.
“Although the performances are quite rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“The idea of normality.... ‘Normal’ is tautological,” he continues. “Nothing is normal. A belief in normality is an aberration. It’s a form of insanity, I think.
“It’s just hard for us to accept ourselves because we’re brought up with the myth of normality, and the myth of what people are supposed to be like gender-wise, sex-wise, and psychologically what we’re supposed to want. And in a way, some of that’s beginning to melt, now. But that probably just causes more confusion. It’s no wonder people like me want to live in 1967.”
YouTube It
In this excerpt from the Jonathan Demme-directed concert film of Robyn Hitchcock, Storefront Hitchcock, the songwriter performs an absurdist “upbeat” song about a man who dies of cancer.
Designed in collaboration with Blu DeTiger, this limited-edition bass guitar features a Sky Burst Sparkle finish, custom electronics, and a chambered lightweight ash body.
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Exploring the Limited Player Plus x Blu DeTiger Jazz Bass® | Fender Artist Signature | Fender - YouTube
The majestic Roland Space Echo is having a bit of a resurgence. Here’s a breakdown on what makes it tick, and whether or not it’s right for you.
In this article, we delve into one of the most cherished gadgets in my guitar collection, the Roland Space Echo RE-201. This iconic piece of equipment has been used by legendary musicians like Jonny Greenwood, Brian Setzer, and Wata from Boris, which only heightened my desire to own one. A few years ago, I was fortunate to acquire a vintage RE-201 in good condition and at a reasonable price.
Using the RE-201 today has its advantages and disadvantages, particularly due to its size, which is comparable to an amplifier head. When compared to modern equivalents like delay pedals or software plugins that closely emulate the original, the vintage RE-201 can seem inefficient. Here, I share my personal and subjective experience with it.
The RE-201 is a tape echo/delay effect that gained popularity in the 1970s and ’80s. Unlike the more complex analog BBD delays or digital delays, tape delays use magnetic tape to simultaneously record and play back sound via a magnetic tape head (similar to a guitar or bass pickup). Because the recording head and playback head are in different physical locations, there is a time gap during the recording and playback process, creating the “delay” effect. This concept was first discovered by Les Paul in the 1950s using two tape machines simultaneously.
However, this method has a drawback: The magnetic tape used as a storage medium has a limited lifespan. Over time, the quality of the tape degrades, especially with continuous use. This degradation is marked by muddy, wavy sounds and unavoidable noise. Yet, this is precisely where the magic of real tape echo lies! New tapes produce clearer, hi-fi sounds, while older tapes tend to produce wavy sounds known as “modulated delay.” Additionally, increasing the number of tape-head readers extends the gap time/delay time of the output, and activating multiple tape-head readers simultaneously creates unique echo/delay patterns.
“This degradation is marked by muddy, wavy sounds and unavoidable noise. Yet, this is precisely where the magic of real tape echo/delay lies!”
Just as how fuzz and distortion effects were discovered, the “imperfections” of tape also represent a historical fact about how the creative process in music follows an absurd, non-linear, and unique pattern. In everyday practical life, signal delay is something typically avoided; however, in a musical context, delay adds a deeper dimension. Today, it’s hard to imagine a pedalboard without a delay effect at the end of the chain.
This uniqueness inspired me to create Masjidil Echo, embracing the “imperfection” of a vintage tape echo/delay with magnetic tape that hasn’t been replaced for years. Many newer pedals, such as the Boss RE-20, Strymon El Capistan, and the Catalinbread Echorec and Belle Epoch, draw inspiration from vintage tape repeat machines. Each has its unique interpretation of emulating tape echo, all in a more compact and maintenance-free format. Real tape delay requires periodic maintenance and has mostly been discontinued since the mid 1980s, with Roland ceasing production of the Space Echo entirely in 1985.
However, in recent years, interest in real tape echo has surged, perhaps due to nostalgia for past technology. As a result, many vintage delay units have appeared on marketplaces at increasingly gargantuan prices! If you’re considering acquiring one, I recommend thinking it over carefully. Are you prepared for the maintenance? Will you use it for regular performances? Are you ready for the fact that magnetic tape will become increasingly difficult to find, potentially turning your machine into a mere display piece? I don’t mean to instill fear, but the real deal, in my opinion, still can’t be fully emulated into a more practical and future-proof digital format.
So, I’ll leave you with one final question for consideration: What if the genealogy of technology were reversed chronologically, with multihead/multitap delay discovered digitally in the 1950s, and in the 2000s, a technological disruption led to the invention of mechanical tape echo to replace digital technology? Which would you choose?