Botanist's bizarre, black metal-oriented music has caught the ears of more than just the underground with this hermit's first release, a compendium of his first two albums, titled I: The Suicide Tree/II: A Rose For The Dead, released on the always-great tUMULt records. Seasoned music journalist Nathan T. Birk, whose name you might recognize from his Zero Tolerance magazine, interviewed the enigmatic Botanist some months ago, but only a small handful of The Botanists responses were published. With the blessings of both Nathan Birk and The Botanist, here is the full, uncut Botanist interview.
Nathan: What came first, the moniker or the concept?
The Botanist: If
you mean the intellectual concept, the two were practically
simultaneous. Names like Xanthostemon,
Glycyrrhiza, Azalea, Nephrolepsis and Chiranthodendron inspired
comparisons to the occult worship of entities like Nyarlathotep,
Cthulhu, Pyrifleyethon, Azrael, Akhenaton, or so much of the familiar
ring that the band and stage names the black metal world comes up for
itself can have. These associations came up enough that harnessing
the now-familiar theme of Nature worship in metal in a seemingly
untapped direction seemed like the portal to an almost endless supply
of thematic inspiration.
Is
Botanist a political entity? Or is the 'eco-terrorist' tag a joke on
a joke (i.e. Velvet Caccoon)?
My
contrarian nature makes it that I like having some fun even within
something that
isn't
a parody. I like Velvet Cacoon very much, and I find their odyssey of alternating
propaganda and then anti-propaganda amusing and fascinating for what
it is, but there's no comparison to be drawn from that project's
existence and the creation of Botanist.
All
of Botanist's songs are told from the perspective of The Botanist,
a man of science who fears and loathes humanity for all its crimes
against Nature. Because of his abhorrence, The Botanist lives in
seclusion in a place he calls the Verdant Realm, where he surrounds
himself with flora. He sits upon a throne of densely tangled
Veltheimia and awaits the coming of the floral apocalypse, The
Budding Dawn, when humans will kill themselves or each other off, at
which point the Earth can be reclaimed entirely by plants. The
Botanist does not sit entirely idly: his chronicles of the Plantae
World often feature how each specimen will help bring about the
downfall of man. He is directed on how and when to act by the voices
he hears in his head, the voice of the demon Azalea, the equivalent
of The Botanist's Satan. In this regard, the concept of Botanist is
eco-terrorist; Not in a political sense -- as politics would favor
the cause of one group of people over another -- but in a blindly
misanthropic one.
While
a song title like 'Gorechid' has a whimsical facet, it is also
about The Botanist's vision of the remains of mutilated corpses
running down orchids, saturating their soil, the blood feeding them
via the mycorrhiza. In The Botanist's world, this is the only
fitting end for people.
So,
why hammered dulcimer?
I'm
primarily a drummer. The music that flies around in my head is of a
rhythmic nature -- when I get a brainstorm or musical ideas are
really flowing through me, I primarily hear the rhythmic textures
and progressions, or at least get a sense of that element first.
An
instrument that allows me to approach making melodies by hitting
things in time with sticks, allowing for application of essential
drum rudiments and patterns, and where the possible pitches are all
laid out chromatically before me, is the kind of melodic instrument
that will be the most intuitive -- it will provide the most direct
melodic conduit between what spins around inside me and what is able
to be recorded.
Since 'I' and 'II,' Botanist has branched out to include, amongst
others, an instrument that most associate with rhythm, the bass
guitar. At least from my perspective, the way a bass guitar provides
rhythm and melody is foreign and awkward in comparison to a
dulcimer's: if you want a tone on a drum kit, you hit that spot.
The same goes for a hammer dulcimer (although the margin for error is
minute in comparison). While the bass parts turn out fine, they are
always supplemental or supportive: writing on the bass is not a means
from which inspiration seems to flow for me, while the dulcimer is
the polar opposite.
So
why not the xylophone, the steel drum, or the glockenspiel? It's
how the hammer dulcimer is a stringed instrument, and as such yields
tones and chorused harmonies that evoke a more classical sound,
something that might evoke a little piano mixed with a harpsichord
and a classical guitar. Classical music, with its melodic and
harmonic progressions, or at least my interpretations of it, are
major influences in how Botanist's songs are composed. So, of
course, is black metal, as well as melodic drone... look for that
last influence to play increasing roles in Botanist albums to come.
Black
metal is at its most provocative when completely following the rules
OR when breaking them completely, but rarely when between those two
poles: discuss.
Something
that helped shape my view on art and its creation is the view of
limitations as tools, not hindrances. The idea that rules and
guidelines are essential to force an artist to work on pushing the
boundaries of those very rules and guidelines.
Botanist's
initial chosen framework was to be within the realm of aggressive,
metal-oriented music, and specifically black metal. That perceived
canvas was chosen, as was the thematic concept, as well as the
limitations of using drums, voice, and hammer dulcimer only within
that canvas, and then also how many layers of each would be allowed
for the records.
While
it is a case of romanticizing to call the creation of the music
summoning, it is actually the closest thing to the truth that I can
convey. The first attempt ever at a Botanist song is the first track
on the first record, 'Dracocephalum,' which heralds the rise of
the beast of flora. After that song, and really after just about all
of them, I had this finished piece, and in some powerful, wondrous,
mystical way, I had no real idea about where it came from or how I
made it. Listening back to the records more than a year after they
were completed, when even the excruciatingly intimate details of
their creation had began to fade from memory, allowing the music to
be perceived somehow more like another person's work, the music
seemed so weird and foreign. It was like an alternate entity within
me -- perhaps call it my summoning of The Botanist, or my channeling
of what black metal is to me via my image of The Botanist, the
Verdant Realm, and the glorification of the archetype of the splendor
of Nature -- had been invoked to the result that you can hear on the
records. Part of that personal experience to me is comfortably
familiar, and another part, the one that is wholly other, the
subconscious unknown -- yet that is still a part of me -- makes my
neck hairs stand on end.
Lastly, does Botanist have plans to play live? Or maybe already have?
It
seems unlikely that Botanist would ever play live. That's not so
much out of some notion that playing shows is counter-productive to
misanthropy, but more because where does one find hammer dulcimer
players to play in a weird black metal band? (If Botanist did play
live, I would play drums and probably also do vocals). Take a look at
images of hammer dulcimer clubs around the country and check how many
people you can see under the age of 60, and who don't play folky
music. If suitable, interested people would manifest, then playing
live would be welcome... but considering Botanist was the catharsis
that rose out of the frustration of proper bands with actual other
people not working out...
Published with permission from Nathan T. Birk.
All questions posed by Nathan T. Birk.
All responses by Otrebor/Botanist.
-Jon
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