Stephen O’Malley is a prime example of the kind of multi-talented savant currently springing up all over the avant-metal underground. Through his work with Burning Witch, Thorr’s Hammer, Lotus Eaters, Teeth of Lions Rule The Divine and Sunn 0))) O’Malley has helped to redefine Doom Metal as a forward-thinking subgenre with much more to offer than hammy operatics and secondhand Sabbath riffs. He has also made a considerable mark on the world of graphic design, producing album covers for the likes of Emperor and Zyklon (check the awesome ‘cinema poster’ sleeve of the latter’s latest album, ‘Aeon’). In interview the restless intelligence behind this creativity becomes even more apparent, O’Malley seemingly more than happy to explain the concepts and ideas that inform his work. Rocksound caught up with the man in London to discuss ‘Things Viral’, his second album with Khanate, an extreme doom supergroup featuring O’Malley on guitar alongside the ex-OLD duo of Alan Dubin (voice) and James Plotkin (bass/synth) and Tim Wyskida (drums). ‘Things Viral’ is a devastating work, plumbing depths of abjection and disgust perhaps untouched since early Swans. It also indicates Khanate becoming less of a ‘project’ and more of a ‘band’, as O’Malley explains.
“The first album was recorded maybe two to three months after we formed and the second album is two years after that. It took us about a year to learn how to play with each other. We made the first album and started trying to do live gigs but we hadn’t really figured it out. By the time of the second album we’d become more focused on it as a band rather than a project. The concepts had developed a lot. We did a lot of gigs, too, which was really good for the band. That makes it a reality. Even if you are rehearsing and recording and stuff, it takes live performance to externalise it.”
With it’s reliance on basic sound blocks and rigidly structured composition, Khanate seems to suggest a new form of feral minimalism. ‘Things Viral’ isn’t much of a riff album – it pounds, drones and groans at a tortuously, gloriously slow pace, going some distance to proving the old adage that God – or the Devil, given O’Malley’s black metal affiliations – lies in the detail:
“We do a lot with very little. Well, not little, but few elements. If you take those and really focus on them, there’s an incredible depth to any single element, a certain instrument or whatever, that you can explore. I think Khanate does that. That’s not the main purpose, it’s more about time manipulation, but that’s definitely a really strong element to our music.”
O’Malley draws a clear distinction between Khanate and his other best-known band, the drone-rock majesty that is Sunn 0))).
“Khanate is more ‘human’ and ‘subconscious’ I guess,” he explains. “Sunn is much more about drawing up this force, this energy, this space in which time is bending a little bit, sounds transfer over from how you’d expect to hear them, how you’d expect to perceive them through your senses. Sound becomes a physical, visual thing. I like the sound to take your senses and override them by shifting them around from where your brain might think they should be. Khanate is much more of a unit. Sunn is almost a kind of open miasma. It’s structured too, of course, but the spirit is much more free.”
There’s a ritualistic, magickal edge to O’Malley’s work which is reminiscent of industrial pioneers like Throbbing Gristle and Coil. Like them, O’Malley is fascinated by the body-and-mind-altering properties of amplified sound.
“There’s an incredible quote on Pelican’s first CD from someone, I don’t remember who (it’s from American avant-guitarist Marc Ribot - JS), but it basically takes the parallel of sounds at high volume being poison, that the player acts as the filter for the audience, for the toxins coming out of the speakers. It’s a shamanic way of looking at it. I never liked that word, but music to me is really spiritual. I feel it allows my mind to work differently. It creates different states, different mindsets.”
O’Malley acknowledges that he is making explicit something that is present in pretty much every form of rock ‘n’ roll.
“These are the invisible things that happen with a lot of music but people don’t really think about. It’s like some kind of modern day ritual practice. I went and saw those first two Black Sabbath reunion shows in Birmingham a few years ago and I was just shocked. The entire place was chanting, there was a low line of fog on the floor, and it occurred to me that this was a temple, and there was some kind of ritual taking place.”
“The first album was recorded maybe two to three months after we formed and the second album is two years after that. It took us about a year to learn how to play with each other. We made the first album and started trying to do live gigs but we hadn’t really figured it out. By the time of the second album we’d become more focused on it as a band rather than a project. The concepts had developed a lot. We did a lot of gigs, too, which was really good for the band. That makes it a reality. Even if you are rehearsing and recording and stuff, it takes live performance to externalise it.”
With it’s reliance on basic sound blocks and rigidly structured composition, Khanate seems to suggest a new form of feral minimalism. ‘Things Viral’ isn’t much of a riff album – it pounds, drones and groans at a tortuously, gloriously slow pace, going some distance to proving the old adage that God – or the Devil, given O’Malley’s black metal affiliations – lies in the detail:
“We do a lot with very little. Well, not little, but few elements. If you take those and really focus on them, there’s an incredible depth to any single element, a certain instrument or whatever, that you can explore. I think Khanate does that. That’s not the main purpose, it’s more about time manipulation, but that’s definitely a really strong element to our music.”
O’Malley draws a clear distinction between Khanate and his other best-known band, the drone-rock majesty that is Sunn 0))).
“Khanate is more ‘human’ and ‘subconscious’ I guess,” he explains. “Sunn is much more about drawing up this force, this energy, this space in which time is bending a little bit, sounds transfer over from how you’d expect to hear them, how you’d expect to perceive them through your senses. Sound becomes a physical, visual thing. I like the sound to take your senses and override them by shifting them around from where your brain might think they should be. Khanate is much more of a unit. Sunn is almost a kind of open miasma. It’s structured too, of course, but the spirit is much more free.”
There’s a ritualistic, magickal edge to O’Malley’s work which is reminiscent of industrial pioneers like Throbbing Gristle and Coil. Like them, O’Malley is fascinated by the body-and-mind-altering properties of amplified sound.
“There’s an incredible quote on Pelican’s first CD from someone, I don’t remember who (it’s from American avant-guitarist Marc Ribot - JS), but it basically takes the parallel of sounds at high volume being poison, that the player acts as the filter for the audience, for the toxins coming out of the speakers. It’s a shamanic way of looking at it. I never liked that word, but music to me is really spiritual. I feel it allows my mind to work differently. It creates different states, different mindsets.”
O’Malley acknowledges that he is making explicit something that is present in pretty much every form of rock ‘n’ roll.
“These are the invisible things that happen with a lot of music but people don’t really think about. It’s like some kind of modern day ritual practice. I went and saw those first two Black Sabbath reunion shows in Birmingham a few years ago and I was just shocked. The entire place was chanting, there was a low line of fog on the floor, and it occurred to me that this was a temple, and there was some kind of ritual taking place.”
