1. After declaring Arckanum finished in 2018, what caused it to manifest again, and why do you consider this a continuation rather than a comeback?

When I ended Arckanum in 2018, I genuinely believed that it was finished. There was no secret plan to disappear for some years and then announce a dramatic return. I simply felt that I had said what I needed to say through Arckanum at that particular stage of my life. The inspiration had been exhausted, and I have never believed in forcing creativity simply because people expect another album.

This has happened several times throughout the history of Arckanum. I can be enormously productive when the inspiration is there, but eventually the vessel becomes empty. A horn can only hold so much ale before it needs to be refilled. When that happens, I would rather put it down than fill it with water and pretend that it tastes the same.

What is important is that when Arckanum stopped, my spiritual Work did not stop with it. In many ways it became even more intensive. I continued writing books, studying mythology, older Scandinavian magical traditions, folklore and runes, while going considerably deeper into the practical Work of Thursatru through ritual, invocation, divination and communion with the Thurses.

I do not experience my books, magical practice and Arckanum as completely separate worlds. They are different ways of approaching and expressing the same Current. Writing allows me to investigate and articulate something in great detail; ritual allows me to encounter and interact with it directly; music gives it sound, emotion, movement and force. So although Arckanum had become silent, the source from which it emerged remained very much alive.

Eventually the music began appearing again. At first there was nothing dramatic about it. I love music too much to stop playing guitar simply because I had officially ended Arckanum, so I continued writing riffs because I enjoyed it. Some were interesting, some were probably complete shit, and some immediately carried that unmistakable Arckanum feeling. Gradually there were more and more of the latter.

At the same time, during my Thursian rites and through runic divination, I repeatedly received indications that Arckanum still had a purpose. More importantly, I began to understand that if I were to continue, the music should become even more consciously intertwined with the magical Work itself. What had always existed spiritually within Arckanum could now be approached with considerably greater knowledge and intent.

So when the music began flowing strongly again during 2025 and 2026, I was not standing in the same place where I had been when Arckanum ended. I had travelled much further spiritually, and whatever now manifested through Arckanum would naturally carry the consequences of that Ragnarökian journey.

This is why I dislike describing it as a “comeback.” A comeback suggests returning to something you left behind, whereas I see this as the next stage of something that has continued to transform. I have no interest in becoming the person who recorded Fran Marder or Kostogher again. Those albums belong exactly where they belong.

I understand Arckanum in three broad phases. The first encompasses the earliest albums, where its identity and musical language were discovered and established. The second began with Antikosmos and continued through Den Förstfödde. Beswærilsin begins the third. These are not different bands or philosophies, but different stages of the same person travelling through the same spiritual landscape.

I like the image of an avalanche for this. It begins with the same snow, but as it moves it gathers more material, weight and force until what descends from the mountain is far greater than what first began to move. That is how I see Arckanum. The original impulse remains within it, but everything encountered along the way has become part of its mass.

This is also why Beswærilsin does not attempt to recreate any particular Arckanum album. You can hear the primitive aggression of the early material, the more developed songwriting of later records, melodic elements, death metal influences and familiar atmospheres, but all of them have passed through who I am now. You can recognize the flame, but it is burning different wood.

There was no single moment when I suddenly decided that Arckanum must return. The riffs accumulated, the spiritual indications accumulated, and the ideas accumulated until there was so much material and such a clear direction that I simply had to acknowledge what was happening. During 2025 and 2026 alone I wrote more than thirty foundations for new songs. This was clearly not some brief nostalgic impulse. Something had opened.

The years without Arckanum were therefore not an empty space between two periods of activity; they were part of the transformation that made this third phase possible. I had stopped Arckanum, but I had never stopped the source from which Arckanum came.

2. More than thirty years separate the earliest Arckanum recordings from Beswærilsin. What has remained unchanged in Shamaatae during that time, and what has fundamentally transformed?

In some ways almost everything has changed, and in other ways very little has changed at all. When I listen to the earliest Arckanum recordings, I obviously hear a very young person searching and attempting to give form to things that I felt intensely but did not yet fully understand. I possessed instinct, conviction and an enormous hunger for whatever existed beyond the ordinary world, but I did not yet possess three decades of study, sorcery and spiritual experience through which those instincts could be understood.

What strikes me when looking back is how clearly the fundamental direction was already present. The attraction toward the Outside, the fascination with trolls, giants, wilderness, darkness and sorcery, and the desire to penetrate the surface of ordinary existence and discover what was concealed behind it were there from the beginning. My terminology was less developed and my understanding far more instinctive, but the compass was already pointing toward Útgarðr.

This is why I have never felt the need to distance myself from the spiritual foundations of early Arckanum. There are naturally things I would explain differently today, because knowledge and experience alter how we understand what we encounter, but I do not believe that the young Shamaatae was walking in the wrong direction. I entered the right forest without yet knowing how deep it extended or what was waiting beyond the trees. More than thirty years later I know that forest considerably better.

When I was younger, rebellion, destruction, lawlessness and the breaking of boundaries had an immediate attraction. Those things remain important, but today I understand more clearly what that opposition means within my spiritual Work. Destruction for its own sake contains very little wisdom; what matters is what is destroyed, why it must fall, and what becomes possible once the structure confining the spirit no longer exists.

The same development can be seen in the trolls, giants and other beings that have followed Arckanum from its earliest years. I did not abandon the troll in the forest and replace it with the Thurs of Útgarðr; I followed the troll deeper into the darkness of that forest and gradually discovered the greater powers standing behind it. Pan represents something similar. What I experienced instinctively when young gradually revealed another depth through years of study and magical Work.

My spiritual development has therefore been much more a process of unveiling than replacement. Something is encountered first through intuition, symbol or spiritual contact, and I may then spend years discovering what was concealed within that original encounter.

Artistically, Arckanum has developed in much the same way. With Fran Marder I was still discovering what Arckanum sounded like while actually making Arckanum. By Kostogher I had found a musical language distinctly my own, and later albums continued transforming that language. With Beswærilsin I can draw naturally from all of those periods without attempting to recreate any of them.

Primitive aggression, melody, darkness, atmosphere and the adversarial spirit remain fundamental, but I am no longer interested in preserving a musical formula. If a composition needs a death metal riff, something monotonous and primitive, a melancholic melody or nine minutes of spoken Old Swedish echoing through a cavernous atmosphere, then that is what it should become. I am interested in preserving the essence of Arckanum rather than embalming its corpse.

Perhaps age has also made me less interested in proving anything. I do not need Arckanum to sound like 1995 to prove that I am still Shamaatae, nor do I need to deliberately make a recording sound terrible to demonstrate that it is raw. I have little interest in following what black metal currently considers acceptable, because conformity does not become more interesting simply because it is dressed as rebellion. After walking your own path for decades, you eventually know what belongs to you without constantly measuring it against everybody else.

What remains unchanged beneath all of this is the Will to seek beyond imposed boundaries. Curiosity, opposition, transformation, the attraction toward the Outside and the refusal to regard the visible world as the limit of existence are still there. The young Shamaatae felt where he needed to go; the person I am today has spent more than thirty years following those tracks deeper into the forest.

The path has become clearer, the magical Work more conscious and the language more precise, but there are still places ahead where the light does not reach. As long as those mysteries remain, I have a reason to continue walking.

3. What is the Thursian Current, and how are Thursatru and your spiritual practice connected to Arckanum?

To understand Arckanum properly, one must understand that Thursatru is not simply a mythology that I use as lyrical inspiration. It is the spiritual path I walk, and Arckanum is one of the forms through which that path manifests.

Thursatru is a tradition centered entirely upon the Thurses and the powers of Útgarðr. Its roots are found partly within the old Scandinavian mythological material, but it is not an attempt to reconstruct Viking Age religion, nor do we worship the æsir or attempt to revive their cults. The Thurses are approached as living spiritual powers through invocation, Þursablót, sorcery, prayer, runic Work, divination and direct communion.

Historical sources are important because they preserve fragments of older knowledge, but the tradition itself is also experiential. What has survived in manuscripts provides one layer; what is revealed through actual spiritual Work provides another.

One of the fundamental mysteries of Thursatru is the conflict between the Thurses and the æsir. Aurgelmir, or Ymir, exists before the world of the gods. From his primordial being emerge the ancient giant races, while the later cosmic order is established through his slaying by Óðinn and his brothers, who fashion the ordered world from his body.

Within Thursatru this myth contains an important spiritual pattern: the primordial powers precede the gods and their imposed order. The Thurses therefore belong, in their deepest essence, to the Outside, to Útgarðr and ultimately to the Ginnic mystery beyond the limitations of the constructed cosmos.

This is where the idea of the Thursian or Utgardian Current becomes important. I understand a spiritual Current as something living: a stream of force, consciousness and spiritual essence with which the Thursatruar can establish contact and gradually become aligned. Within Thursatru this Current is also called the Ginnic Current, the Eitr Current and the Anti-æsiric Current, among other names. It is connected with the primordial Thursian bloodline of Aurgelmir and with the forces that stand beyond the laws and limitations represented by the cosmic order.

Within Thursatru, the particular Thursian Current with which we work has revealed itself through the number 128, a number that repeatedly manifests through Thursian runic numerology, sacred names, words and formulas, as well as through omens received in our spiritual Work. We therefore understand 128 as the numerical name or signature through which this Current identifies and communicates itself on the physical plane.

The adversarial aspect of this path should not be misunderstood as simply rebelling against society or behaving destructively. The opposition is much deeper than human politics, morality or social convention. It concerns the spiritual limitations of the ordered cosmos itself. The Thursian path seeks liberation through knowledge, transformation, individual Will and conscious alignment with those powers that exist beyond the boundaries imposed upon the spirit. Ragnarök therefore possesses an esoteric meaning beyond the destruction described in mythology: it represents the breaking of cosmic structures and the dissolution of those powers that maintain them.

This is also why individual Will is so important. Aligning oneself with a greater Current does not mean surrendering individuality or blindly obeying another authority. I dedicate myself to the Thursian powers because I recognize something of my own spiritual nature within that Current. To me the Thurses represent transformation, liberation, primordial wisdom and the breaking of fetters. Dedication without Will would be servitude; dedication through Will is a conscious act of power.

Arckanum emerged from this spiritual movement long before I possessed the vocabulary with which I can describe it today. In the early years it appeared through trolls, forests, Pan, giants, darkness, sorcery and the instinctive attraction toward whatever existed outside the dominion of gods and men. As my spiritual understanding developed, I began to recognize the greater anatomy behind those manifestations.

For that reason I would not say that Arckanum is simply “inspired by Thursatru.” That creates too much distance between them. Arckanum is one of the instruments through which I practice and manifest my Thursian Work. A book can describe the Current, a ritual can open direct communion with it, and Arckanum can give it sound, rhythm, aggression, atmosphere and voice.

I have sometimes described Arckanum as a Thursian sword. The music is the blade, but the force wielding it comes from somewhere deeper. In that sense Arckanum is not a soundtrack to my spiritual path. It is part of the path itself.

4. Why is Beswærilsin more than simply a collection of songs, and what does it mean to describe the album as a complete magical Working?

For me, the distinction begins with intent. Music can contain occult imagery, mythological references and ritual symbolism without necessarily being a magical act. What transforms something into a Working is the Will placed behind it, together with the knowledge and methods used to direct that Will.

With Beswærilsin, the magical dimension was not added afterward as decoration or as a concept placed over an already completed album. It gradually became part of the foundation from which the entire work was constructed.

The eleven compositions are therefore not simply unrelated songs placed together because they happened to be written during the same period. I regard them as stages within one greater conjuration. Through invocations, oaths, offerings, spells and revelations, the Working gradually opens a doorway toward the Outside. The significance of the title and the number eleven belongs deeply to this structure, but that is a mystery in itself which I will return to later.

The magical construction also exists within the individual songs. Certain repetitions are deliberate, as are numerical structures, invocative names, kennings and formulations. Some lyrics may appear on the surface to tell a mythological story about a particular Thurs, but beneath that narrative there can be another structure whose purpose is invocation. In that sense the words are not merely describing the beings or forces involved; they are calling upon them.

The music itself participates in this. I do not believe that magic exists only in the lyrics while the instruments provide a soundtrack behind them. Rhythm, repetition, tones, atmosphere and physical vibration can all contribute to directing the Working. A monotonous passage can induce one state, violent repetition another, and melody can open emotional or spiritual spaces that words alone cannot reach. The voice gives the formulas breath and body, while the instruments create the environment through which they move.

There is also a larger intention behind the album. Beswærilsin is conceived as an opening toward the Underworld and Hel, a bridge through which the Thursian powers may enter and permeate the Work. The Utgardian Current is invoked to bless, strengthen and protect what is being manifested, while at the same time carrying the adversarial poison of Eitr into the structures represented by Yggdrasill.

The Ragnarökian elements throughout the album belong to this same movement. The Sons of Surtr, the Host of Hrymr and other Thursian powers are not included simply because they make dramatic mythological subjects; they participate in a greater movement against the æsiric order.

At the same time, the magical structure must never suffocate the music. Beswærilsin still has to function as an Arckanum album. The Working should deepen and intensify what is already alive within the compositions rather than compensate for something musically dead.

The visual manifestation of the album belongs to the same whole. The artwork, symbols, runic elements and physical presentation can strengthen and extend the Working into another form. But I do not regard any single outward form as the source of the magic. Music, words, images and physical objects are vessels. The relevance lies in the Spirit and Will moving through them.

This is ultimately why I describe Beswærilsin as a complete magical Working rather than simply an occult concept album. A concept album tells a story or explores an idea. Beswærilsin is intended to do something. Its songs form stages of the same operation, its words invoke rather than merely describe, and its structure follows a spiritual movement between this world and the Outside.

5. How do you transform spiritual experiences, revelations and magical intentions into actual music without allowing the concept to overpower the songwriting?

The most important thing is that the music has to work as music first. I may have an elaborate spiritual intention behind a composition, but if the riff does not move me, no amount of occult symbolism, numerology or runic formulas will resurrect it. Arckanum has never been an academic exercise where I construct songs according to a magical diagram and then expect people to find them interesting because I can explain the symbolism afterward.

My actual composing process is therefore much more intuitive than people might expect. I rarely sit down and decide that I am going to write a five-minute song about a particular Thurs with a predetermined structure. Usually, I simply take the guitar and begin playing. Sometimes I hear a melody or fragment in my head and try to find it on the instrument; other times I begin with absolutely nothing and one riff leads into another.

I record enormous amounts of material and return to it later. Some riffs immediately demand my attention, while others can sit there for months before I realize what they might become.

I definitely consider myself the composer rather than someone who simply channels completed music from somewhere else. I would never claim that the Thurses are sitting in Útgarðr composing my guitar riffs for me; if that were the case, I would have to give them considerably more credit for all the hard work. The notes, arrangements and decisions are mine. At the same time, I do believe that my spiritual Work influences the character from which those decisions arise.

Usually the spiritual purpose of a composition becomes clearer as the music develops. A particular atmosphere may evoke a place, a Thurs, a revelation or something I have experienced during ritual. Sometimes a riff suddenly makes complete sense in relation to something I have received through Þursablót and runic divination. At that point the composition and the spiritual Work begin to grow into one another.

Once I understand what a song is becoming, I can strengthen its purpose through the lyrics, repetitions, names, kennings, invocative formulas and other correspondences. Ideally these elements become inseparable from the composition rather than feeling as though an occult system has simply been placed on top of a finished song.

Sometimes the spiritual intention causes me to reshape a section, extend a repetition or alter the atmosphere because the composition needs to serve something beyond ordinary songwriting. But there is always a balance. If the magical idea begins damaging the song, then I have approached it incorrectly. The Working should intensify the music, not imprison it.

This is probably why I never begin with a rigid blueprint. I prefer allowing a song to reveal its identity before deciding exactly what it is supposed to carry. The first stage is instinctive and musical; afterward I become increasingly deliberate about its spiritual direction and construction.

There are exceptions, of course. Twæþursaspá is perhaps the clearest example on Beswærilsin. Its foundation came from a revelation received from Gullveig during ritual, so its spiritual function dictated the form much more directly. It eventually became almost nine minutes of spoken Old Swedish accompanied by a dark, cavernous ambient soundscape rather than a conventional Arckanum composition. Trying to force that material into verses, choruses and guitar riffs would have weakened what it was supposed to be. The revelation needed space to exist as something closer to ritual recitation and invocation than a song.

Knowing when a composition is finished is also largely instinctive. I can obsess over details for a very long time, but eventually there comes a point where everything belongs and I no longer feel the urge to interfere with it. My wife is also someone whose opinion I trust when I have been staring at the same musical wall for too long. A fresh pair of ears can immediately hear something that I have stopped hearing because I have been living inside the song for weeks.

Experience has taught me that creating something also means knowing when to stop touching it. You have to know when to continue carving and when to put the knife down, because once the shape has revealed itself, every additional cut risks damaging what you were trying to uncover.

So I would not say that I first receive a spiritual revelation and then translate it mechanically into music. The relationship is much more fluid. Sometimes the music comes first and reveals what it is connected to; sometimes the spiritual Work provides the direction; most often the two gradually meet somewhere in the process. When it works properly, I no longer experience the music and the magical intention as two separate things.

6. Why have Old Swedish, runes, kennings and archaic language remained so important to Arckanum, both poetically and magically?

Language has always been extremely important to Arckanum because words are not simply containers for information. They have sound, rhythm, history, associations and, within magical practice, power. From the beginning I wanted the language of Arckanum to belong to the world the music was trying to evoke. Modern language often felt too ordinary and too closely connected to the present, while older Scandinavian language immediately opened another landscape for me.

Old Swedish eventually became the natural language of Arckanum. I have spent a lot of time studying historical texts, dictionaries and linguistic sources in an attempt to keep it as accurate as I can, but I do not pretend that I am reconstructing a perfectly preserved medieval spoken language. That would be a rather ambitious claim several centuries too late. Historical accuracy is important to me, but the language also has to function poetically and magically. It has to breathe.

After using it for more than thirty years, Old Swedish has also become something of a personal ritual language. Certain words, names and formulations have accumulated associations through my music, writing and spiritual Work. When I use them now, they do not feel like historical curiosities borrowed from a dictionary. They carry memories of previous workings, ideas and experiences.

I am also attracted to the sound itself. Old Swedish can be harsh, strange and extremely beautiful. There are words whose sounds seem almost inseparable from what they describe, and older vocabulary often contains nuances or associations that become flattened when translated into modern language. Sometimes a word is chosen not only because of what it means, but because of what happens when it is spoken.

That becomes especially important with kennings and invocative names. A kenning is not merely an ornamental way of avoiding an ordinary noun. It can reveal a being through a particular quality, relationship or power. Naming Loki in one way may emphasize something entirely different from naming him through another title. Within a magical context, this allows language to become extremely precise. I am not simply saying who I am addressing; I am calling upon a particular aspect, force or function associated with that being.

The same principle applies to the runes. I do not regard runes merely as an alphabet that can make something appear ancient. Within my Thursian practice they possess numerical, symbolic and magical correspondences, and these can influence how names, words and formulas are constructed or understood. Sometimes a correspondence only becomes visible when a word is examined runically and numerically.

Repetition and vocalization are equally important. In ordinary prose, repeating the same word several times may be unnecessary, but magical language follows different principles. A name or formula spoken repeatedly can accumulate rhythm, concentration and force. Breath becomes involved, pronunciation becomes involved, and eventually the words are no longer merely being read or sung; they are being performed. This is close to how I understand galdrar, where voice, sound, repetition, intention and formula become parts of the same magical act.

The importance placed upon the spoken word is certainly not unique to Scandinavian magic. Variations of this principle appear throughout traditional magical and esoteric systems in incantations, prayers, divine names and words of power. Within Hermetic and Gnostic traditions we also encounter the deeper mystery of the Logos, the Word or divine expression through which what exists in the invisible or spiritual realm becomes intelligible or manifest. I do not claim that Logos simply means “magical speech,” because the concept is considerably greater than that, but there is a principle within it that I find important: the Word is not necessarily passive.

Thought and Will exist internally, but vocalization carries them outward into the physical world. The lungs provide the breath, the throat and mouth shape it, and something that previously existed only within consciousness becomes vibration moving through the air. The spoken spiritual formula becomes a physical event. Your breath unleashes a gandr.

The lyrics can therefore operate on several levels simultaneously. Someone may read a text as a mythological account concerning a Thurs, another person may recognize the poetic symbolism, while beneath both there may be an invocative construction connected to the actual Working. I like that these layers can coexist.

At the same time, I try to distinguish clearly between historical material and what emerges through my spiritual practice. Historical sources tell us what people actually recorded and preserved within particular periods and cultures. Direct experience, divination and revelation belong to another level. A personal revelation does not suddenly become an undiscovered piece of medieval history simply because it occurs within a tradition influenced by old Scandinavian material.

Over time, this has allowed the language of Arckanum to become something more than an aesthetic connection with the past. Old Swedish provides the voice, the runes reveal additional structures, kennings concentrate particular meanings, and repetition gives those words movement. Together they allow the lyrics to exist somewhere between poetry and incantation.

For me, that is ultimately why archaic language remains so important. A magical word should not only communicate an idea intellectually; it should be capable of being voiced, repeated and directed. Meaning tells the word where to go, but sound gives it a body with which to travel.

7. Trolls, Pan, giants, forests and the Thurses have appeared throughout different periods of Arckanum. Are these separate ideas, or different manifestations of the same spiritual source?

They can certainly appear related, but within Thursatru we do not assume that every giant, wilderness spirit or other supernatural being belongs to the same spiritual Current. The important distinction is not necessarily what a being is called, how it appears, or even which folklore has preserved its memory. What matters is its spiritual descent.

If the spiritual lineage of a being originates in Útgarðr, we understand it as belonging to the Thursian spiritual bloodline and therefore as being aligned with the Current with which we work. If its lineage originates within Miðgarðr and the established cosmic order, its essence is pro-cosmic and it is not aligned with our Workings.

This distinction is extremely important because outward similarities can otherwise be misleading. Two beings may both inhabit forests or mountains, both be described as trolls or spirits in folklore, and yet belong to entirely different spiritual lineages.

This is also one of the reasons direct spiritual Work is so important within Thursatru. Names and classifications inherited through mythology and folklore can provide valuable clues, but they do not automatically determine spiritual allegiance. Through invocation, divination, runic Work and prolonged communion, we seek to understand the nature and descent of the spirit itself. The question is ultimately not simply, “What kind of being is this?” but rather, “From where does its spirit descend, and with which Current is it aligned?”

This is how I understand many of the beings that have appeared throughout Arckanum. Trolls, Pan, giants and the Thurses should not simply be placed into one enormous category and declared identical. What connects those with which I have worked is their spiritual lineage and their relationship to the Outside. The spirit I encountered as Pan, for example, I came to understand as Thursian through the nature of the contact and where that contact ultimately led.

The forest itself is something different again. It is not a spiritual bloodline but a boundary landscape, a place where different lawless forces can be encountered. A forest can contain spirits of very different origins, just as the visible world contains beings of different natures. For me, its importance lies partly in its ability to function as a threshold away from human order and toward what exists beyond it.

So the distinction within my Work is not simply between gods, trolls, giants or other categories of beings. The deeper distinction is one of spiritual descent: whether the spirit belongs to the æsir and vanir or carries the Eitric bloodline of Útgarðr. That is ultimately what determines whether it is aligned with the Thursian Current and whether it belongs within our Ragnarökian Workings.

8. What does the adversarial or anti-cosmic spirit of black metal mean to you today, and how does it differ from simply reproducing the aesthetics of 1990s black metal?

For me, black metal has always been much more than a particular guitar sound, production style or collection of visual codes. There is obviously a musical genre called black metal, and we all recognize certain characteristics within it, but what originally attracted me was the adversarial spirit behind it. It represented opposition, spiritual rebellion, lawlessness and the refusal to kneel before the religious and moral structures that claimed authority over the individual. That spirit was far more important to me than whether every riff followed a particular musical formula.

This is also why I understand when people ask whether Arckanum is really black metal. Musically, Arckanum has always moved somewhere between black and death metal, and I have never had a problem with that. I like the physical weight and violence of death metal just as much as I like the darkness, atmosphere and hostility of black metal. Spiritually, however, I have always considered Arckanum deeply connected to the Satanic and adversarial essence that originally attracted me to black metal. I simply understand that adversarialism through my own spiritual path.

When I speak about Satanic or anti-cosmic rebellion, I am not talking about rebellion for the sake of appearing dangerous. My opposition is directed against the powers and principles that I understand as maintaining the ordered cosmos and binding the spirit within it. Within Thursatru this is expressed through the conflict between the Thurses and the æsir, between Útgarðr and the ordered world, and ultimately between the primordial Ginnic state and the structures imposed upon it. The adversarial path is therefore one of liberation, transformation and the strengthening of individual Will against spiritual limitation.

This is one reason I have never been particularly interested in following trends within black metal. In the early 1990s, one of the most exciting things about the genre was precisely that so many bands sounded completely different from one another. They developed their own riffs, production, atmosphere, imagery and spiritual identities. There was no established manual explaining exactly how black metal was supposed to sound because everybody was still discovering what it could become. Ironically, something that began as such a rebellious form of music eventually developed its own conventions that people can follow just as obediently as conventions within any other genre.

There is nothing wrong with being inspired by older black metal, I obviously am as well, but inspiration and reproduction are different things. If you continuously make copies of copies, eventually the contrast begins to disappear. The recognizable outline remains, but all the strange details and imperfections that gave the original its character are gradually lost until you are left with a grey image of something that was once dangerous and alive. I would rather preserve the spirit that made those records compelling than reproduce their surface.

There is also something I want to make clear, because Arckanum is sometimes associated with other black metal bands. Arckanum is a one-man band and represents my own spiritual and artistic vision. I have never followed others, nor do I follow trends. What another musician believes or represents does not automatically tell you anything about me simply because our records may stand beside each other in somebody's collection.

My opposition has always been fundamentally spiritual. Within my worldview, all of us who exist in this world share the same essential predicament: we are spirits bound to earthly existence, fate and the limitations of the cosmic order, struggling in different ways against the fetters that hold us here. From that perspective, the physical distinctions between human beings are of very little interest to me. The human condition tells me nothing about a person's spirit, their Will, their wisdom or the path they are capable of walking. I am interested in what exists behind the flesh.

My belief in reincarnation makes this even more fundamental. I believe that we have lived many lives before this one and that these incarnations are not confined to one nation, culture or part of the world. I may have walked this earth many times, in distant places, among entirely different peoples and within bodies completely unlike the one I inhabit today. To build one's spiritual identity around the temporary vessel of a single incarnation therefore makes very little sense to me.

The adversarialism of Arckanum represents a rebellion directed toward something far older and greater: the spiritual laws, powers and structures that bind consciousness to the ordered cosmos. We are all wandering through the same prison. My concern is with finding the doors that lead Outside.

That, to me, is also where the genuine spirit of black metal still exists. It does not depend upon recreating a particular guitar tone from 1994, wearing the correct clothes or demonstrating that you can be more extreme than the next person. It exists wherever there is genuine adversarial Will and the refusal to submit one's spirit or art to an imposed order. Arckanum has never needed to fit perfectly inside somebody else's definition of black metal, because preserving that spirit has always mattered more to me than preserving the rules of a genre.

In the end I still maintain that there are only two musical genres that truly matter: good music and bad music. And bad music is merely bad music.

9. Why has Arckanum remained essentially a solitary creation, and what role can guest musicians and other artists play without changing its identity?

I think some people simply create better alone, and I am definitely one of them. An author does not normally need four other people standing behind the chair voting on what the next paragraph should say, and a painter does not necessarily need a committee deciding where the next brushstroke belongs. That is essentially how I feel about Arckanum.

It represents my musical taste, spiritual Work, ideas and artistic vision, so it has always felt natural that I should remain responsible for its direction.

I have played in bands with other people, and I never particularly enjoyed the compromises involved. When four or five individuals all have strong ideas about what a song should become, I find it remarkable that anything gets finished at all. I am genuinely impressed by bands that can function creatively in complete unison, but for me it sounds like a nightmare. If I hear exactly where a composition needs to go, I do not want to negotiate with three other people about whether it should go somewhere else.

The solitary process also suits my personality. Whether I am writing a book, constructing a magical Working or making an album, I like disappearing into my own world and obsessing over something until it feels right.

Being a one-man band does not, however, mean that I believe I must physically perform every sound myself. I have always appreciated what another musician can contribute when there is a reason for that person to be there. A guest can bring a character, technique or sensibility that I would not naturally produce myself, and that difference is precisely what makes the contribution interesting. If I invite somebody to participate and then demand that they imitate exactly what I would have played, I might as well play it myself.

The distinction is that collaboration takes place within an already defined Arckanum vision. A guest musician is not being asked to determine what Arckanum should become; I know the direction of the composition and why that person belongs within it. Within those boundaries, however, I prefer giving people enough freedom to actually sound like themselves. Their individuality can strengthen the music without changing the identity behind it.

There are several examples of this on Beswærilsin. On “Utgarþzeþer,” I had originally composed the passage and its basic melodies, but Ljuder Stefan Westberg interpreted and developed them using instruments such as tagelharpa, spilåpipa, mandolin, violin, troll drum and rattles made from bones, skulls, iron and sand. I wanted that section to possess an archaic, almost medieval character, and Stefan could give it textures and nuances that would have been pointless for me to imitate. I gave him considerable freedom because I wanted his musical personality there.

My wife Darby Lahger also contributes vocals to one track, and Christian Lindell performs a guitar solo on another. These moments introduce different voices and colors into the album without making Arckanum less personal. On the contrary, I think carefully chosen guests can make the surrounding music more alive because something enters that I could not have predicted completely myself.

The same principle extends beyond music. My wife Darby has created visual art connected with my work, for example the cover of Beswærilsin. She is a self-taught painter with a very distinctive style, but more importantly, we share the same Thursian path. She understands the symbols, atmosphere and spiritual world behind my work without requiring me to translate everything into an art-direction document. Who better to illustrate my music and writings than the artist who shares that path with me, and, of course, the person I love the most?

So I do not understand artistic independence as isolation from every other creative person. Arckanum can contain another musician's instrument, another voice or another artist's painting without surrendering its identity.

10. Does someone need to understand—or even believe in—the spiritual and magical meaning behind Arckanum for the music to have its intended effect?

No, not at all. I have never expected people who listen to Arckanum to share my spiritual beliefs, practice Thursatru or even believe that the powers I work with objectively exist. I am not trying to convert anyone. My spiritual Work is my path, and Arckanum is one of the ways through which I manifest it.

First and foremost, the music still has to work as music. Someone should be able to put on Beswærilsinknowing absolutely nothing about Thursatru, runes, Útgarðr or the magical structure behind the album and simply enjoy the riffs, melodies, aggression and atmosphere. If a composition only becomes interesting after I have explained its esoteric meaning for twenty minutes, then I have probably failed as a musician. A rune cannot rescue a bad riff.

I also do not think intellectual understanding is always required for something to affect you. Music demonstrates this better than almost anything else. You can be deeply moved by a song in a language you do not understand. A rhythm can produce a physical response before you have consciously analyzed it, and a melody can create sadness, tension or exhilaration without explaining why.

From my own spiritual perspective, the magical intention of the Work does not cease to exist because the listener is unaware of it. When I vocalize a name or formula, construct a repetition in a particular manner or place something within the music according to a magical correspondence, its purpose is established through my Will and the Working itself.

I do not believe every listener must consciously recognize that structure for it to possess power. Whether another person interprets what they experience spiritually, psychologically, emotionally or simply musically is ultimately their decision.

This is also why I am comfortable explaining quite a lot about my spiritual Work. I have written about Thursatru, runes and the Thurses for many years because I believe genuine knowledge is always within reach of the person who sincerely seeks it. But not everything needs to be immediately revealed. Some knowledge should remain veiled and require curiosity, study, persistence and personal effort to uncover.

So there is no requirement to believe what I believe in order to listen to Arckanum. If someone hears nothing beyond a black metal record and it gives them something meaningful, that is enough. If another person recognizes the mythology beneath it, another door opens. If someone recognizes the magical structures, there is another door behind that one.

11. What do the number eleven, the title Beswærilsin, and the movement toward Útgarðr reveal about the deeper structure and purpose of the new album?

The title Beswærilsin can be translated approximately as “The Conjuring,” or Besvärjelsen in modern Swedish, but its meaning within the album is broader than simply summoning something. A besvärjelse can contain both the calling upon of a power and the binding force of an oath.

That combination became central to the entire work: invocation on one side and dedication on the other. You are not merely asking something to come to you; you are also declaring where you stand and to what you have bound your Will.

The title itself emerged through my Thursian Work rather than through a search for something that simply sounded appropriate for an album. During Þursablót, while working with the runes and the spiritual structure surrounding the eleven compositions, Gullveig drew my attention to the number of letters within Beswærilsin: eleven. That immediately connected the name with something already fundamental to the construction of the album.

Eleven is a holy Ginnic number within our Thursatru Tradition. Esoterically, it is connected with the primordial state preceding the established cosmic order, with Ginnungagap and the potential existing before creation is divided, structured and governed. In that sense, eleven represents something beyond or before the ordered world, which makes it particularly significant within a tradition centered upon the Thurses and the movement toward Útgarðr.

Its importance is reinforced through our runic numerology. When sacred names and words are calculated according to the numerical values of their constituent runes, eleven appears with remarkable persistence. Loki, for example, carries the value 38, while several of his other sacred names and kennings carry the value 128; both reduce numerically to eleven.

The same pattern appears in names and words central to the Thursian mysteries, including Gullveig, Hel, Fenrir under the name Valdýr, Hati, Ginn, Þurs, Eitr, Þorn and Járnviðr. The significance of eleven therefore existed within our Work long before the structure of this album was established.

Numerical relationships can also reveal connections between names that initially appear different. Loki and Gullveig provide a particularly important example: their values can appear as numerical reflections of one another, 38 and 83, yet both resolve into the same sphere of eleven.

Within our esoteric understanding this reflects the mystery of the Thursian Twins: two manifestations of a shared spiritual essence, divided in expression without being separated at their deepest source. Numerical correspondences such as these are one reason particular names, kennings and formulations are preferred in invocations and runic formulas. The words are chosen not only for their poetic meaning but because their runic values resonate with the spiritual force being addressed.

The fact that Beswærilsin contains eleven compositions is consequently not incidental. I understand them as eleven stages or steps within the same greater movement. They have individual identities and can certainly be experienced as separate songs, but esoterically they participate in one progression. Through the invocations, oaths, offerings, spells and revelations contained within them, the threshold toward Útgarðr is gradually approached and opened.

There is an important double movement within this idea. Conjuration is normally imagined as calling a spirit or force from somewhere else into the ritual space: something beyond is invited to cross the threshold toward the Thursatruar. Beswærilsin certainly contains that movement, but there is another occurring simultaneously. As the Thursian forces are invoked inward, the practitioner moves outward, away from the limitations of the established cosmic order and toward the Outside.

That is where the oath becomes as important as the invocation. If the album concerned only calling upon the Thurses to receive power from them, the relationship would become very one-sided. To me, Thursatru also concerns allegiance, dedication and transformation. You approach these forces because you are aligning your Will with the path they represent. The oath therefore expresses a willingness to cross the threshold yourself rather than merely opening the door and asking what might come through it.

I sometimes imagine the structure of the album as eleven steps through the same doorway, with the Thurses moving inward as I move outward. The distance between Miðgarðr and Útgarðr becomes progressively smaller. This is not meant geographically, of course, as though Útgarðr were simply another country beyond the horizon. It is a spiritual movement away from imposed cosmic limitation and toward the primordial, adversarial reality represented by the Outside.

Numbers can therefore function as signatures through which patterns and spiritual communications reveal themselves. Our particular Thursian Current, for example, has repeatedly revealed itself through the number 128 in runic numerology, sacred names, words and formulas, as well as through omens received during our spiritual Work. We understand 128 as a numerical name or signature through which this Current identifies and communicates itself on the physical plane. Its repeated reduction to eleven within significant Thursian names also connects the Current with the Ginnic mystery represented by that number.

Although the 128 Current is distinct from the 218 Current and belongs to a different spiritual tradition, we regard them as different manifestations of the same greater acosmic spiritual essence.

The movement toward Útgarðr is also reflected visually in Beswærilsin. Darby's cover painting depicts what I understand as riding the gandr: a magical force and spiritual vehicle carrying the practitioner through the Working. The wolf represents the untamed adversarial power existing outside the order of the gods, with connections to Fenrir, Loki, Angrboða, death and the Thursian mysteries.

The rider can also be understood through Hyrrokkin and, within our tradition, her identification with Gullveig-Heiðr-Angrboða. The important image for me is not domination of the wolf but movement with it, being carried by that force across boundaries.

So the title, the eleven compositions, the runic numbers and the imagery are not separate puzzles placed around the album for people to decode. They are different expressions of the same direction. Beswærilsin is both a calling and an oath, both an opening toward Útgarðr and a movement toward it.

The door opens in both directions.