“Epicus Doomicus Metallicus”...Enough Said? (1986)
winter essentials, vol. 4
When Candlemass entered the studio to record their debut album, the air hung heavy with cold. The heaters didn’t work in the studio, which was located three stories underground in the heart of Stockholm. Swedish winters aren’t something to be fucked with, but the band of desperate soldiers toiled on, gloved hands shaking at the strings with each anguished note.
It’s an iconic story, and It’s quintessentially doom— almost like the band was fated to change metal, to drill deeper than anyone had before. At the time, fast metal ruled the world: thrash was on the rise, and most popular metal enlisted bone-crushing speed as its weapon of choice. But Candlemass dealt in slow, plodding misery, taking even the dirge of bands like St. Vitus and Trouble to a new, blistering level.
I’ve written a lot about loneliness in this winter series. This time of year feels rife with the stuff, especially in the fog that tails the holidays. But wallowing gets tiresome, and eventually we’ve all gotta suck it up and embrace the madness. For some, that means getting really excited about football or St. Patrick’s day. For me, that means blasting “Solitude” by Candlemass on the regular, singing until my lungs give out.
This is a song that revels in loneliness — And I mean revels. This isn’t some drab, melancholic sad-boy ballad. It’s an outright anthem, oddly uplifting in its self-loathing fury. It’s desolate. It’s grim and suicidal to the point of absurdity. Its lyrics are hilarious, carried by Johan Langqvist’s outrageous, theatrical vocals. But its central riff is so god-tier that I find myself immersed, totally enraptured by its melodrama, every time .
Hate is my only friend, pain is my father / Torment is delight to me / Death is my sanctuary, I seek it with pleasure / Please let me die in solitude
If that hook isn’t a mood for a cold, March Monday at a customer service job, I don’t know what is. Its excess is the point. It pushes so far past the realm of routine human emotion that it’s fun. It’s freeing and it’s free, completely unfettered by rules of expressive restraint. Why would we need to keep our rage proportionate to our struggles? This is music. This is fantasy. This is doom.
The album pushes into more uptempo territory on “Crystal Ball”, which builds to a riotous breakdown worthy of the best bedroom mirror dance party you’ll have this winter. This is one of the album’s greatest strengths, I think: It both epitomizes doom as a style, and is completely unafraid to bask in other influences, feeling as much like a celebration of popular metal as it is a playful deconstruction of 80’s tropes.
Did I mention this album also features a Christmas story? “Black Stone Wielder” crafts a bizarro, occult nativity arrangement, where the shepherds are “a procession of dark coats” who worship an old god, represented by a stone. They pass the stone on to a newborn baby, born in (you guessed it) Bethlehem, in hopes that he can liberate mankind from an unnamed curse. Perhaps Candlemass was trying to unpack something heavy about organized religion here, and the indelible mark that it leaves on generations. Or maybe they just wanted to make a Christmas song that sounds dope as hell. Either way, this track is essential, and it’s one of the many reasons this project feels perfectly tuned for a winter night.
True to doom metal’s roots, the album’s Biblical imagery doesn’t stop there. “Under the Oak” might just be the record’s emotional pinnacle, climbing to the mournful summit of its bridge (quoted below). In context, the stakes are apocalyptic: They seem to call back to the book of Revelation, and the divine mass destruction it details. But on my first listen, I was struck by how human and mournful these lines felt, despite the fantastical lore that surrounded them. Great doom summons the grand tragedy of religious epics as deftly as it does the pain we feel daily.
I cried for the ones I had lost / Midnight in paradise, grief, away goes my hope
The album’s eight-plus minute long finale, “A Sorcerer’s Pledge”, kicks things off with dramatic, folk-infused balladry. Langqvist’s vocals shine here (in prowess and in overwrought drama), pining atop their comparatively soft accompaniment. But this one quickly gathers steam and intensity once the scene is set, thrusting us back into high-energy heavy metal furor before its time is up. Eerie, warbling synths complete the puzzle, dreamily escorting us to the song’s outro. And damn…If ever there was an outro worth replaying it’s this one: a gothic, epic, scene-stealing romp in its own right.
Here’s the thing: it’s dreary out these days. It’s cold. It’s gray. It’s tiring. It still gets dark outside way too early. We haven’t even gotten real snowfall in my neck of the woods. So for me this week, celebrating and enjoying winter looks like thriving in spite of the cold, and making a little extra space for my burnout and my restlessness. It’s okay to be over the top sometimes. Sometimes it’s the only way to meet life where it’s at.
Thank you for giving this one a read! I thought something was off when I realized I was spending my winter listening to metal, but wasn’t writing about any of it…More next week? Who knows?
Until then,
Be as big as you need to be. Dance like everyone should be watching.
Clare