HEXVESSEL recently released their new album, “Polar Veil.” In our interview with Mat McNerney, he delves into the album’s creative process, exploring its thematic core, the shift in musical direction, the influences of Finnish culture, and much more! Read our complete interview here…
Hi there, thank you so much for your time today. How are you doing?
I’m good. Very good. Yeah, thanks.
You recently released a new HEXVESSEL record, “Polar Veil.” How have the reactions been so far?
The reactions have been really good, surprisingly good. I expected a little bit more friction because of the sound change and direction. I’m pleasantly surprised that people have been on board for this change. I think that the people who were never really going to get it still don’t get the band. But I think that there are a lot of people who have never listened to us before that are getting interested in the band now. So it’s been really good, and the reviews have been really strong, which is always surprising because I don’t make the music for that, I’m just making it for my fulfillment. If the reviews are good, it’s a bonus. It’s nice.
Tell me about the change in direction was it sort of a natural thing that happened while you were isolating yourself in nature?
Yeah, I come from that music scene, in a way, the ’90s black metal thing—that’s what I grew up in, and I’ve been in a couple of bands in that genre. It’s always been in my DNA, and I think it’s always been in the DNA of the band. You can hear it on “Dawnbearer”; there are a lot of chord progressions and chords that are very similar to black metal. Also, there’s a lot of folk music in black metal anyway, the styles of playing derived from it, rather than the more blues style of heavy metal and that genre. So, I think it was a really natural thing. I wasn’t thinking so much in terms of making a different HEXVESSEL record or anything like that. I just made this record, so it kind of came naturally, came out of the ether, so to speak. I have this feeling about music in that way—it’s a sort of channeling, but it also channels you. You summon it, but it also summons you. It was kind of meant to happen at this point. So, with the reaction, it has been surprising that people have been along for the ride, but I guess it shouldn’t have been because our audience has always been in that, I want to say genre, but it’s always been in dark music.
We talked last time about the release of GRAVE PLEASURES, an album that was inspired by political events and society. HEXVESSEL is the complete opposite, you were inspired by nature. While creating music for two different outlets, how much is the importance of what inspires and drives you to differentiate the two?
The GRAVE PLEASURES‘ record was written over a really long period, much earlier than the HEXVESSEL record. I was totally done with writing that record quite a long time before we even finished recording it. So it was a different period in life because it’s been quite some years. I tend to take years between albums, not intentionally, but that’s just how it is. It takes a long time, I guess, to get inspired, and things happen. The GRAVE PLEASURES‘ record, because it’s a band record, is often written via conversations that we have together or a vibe that we have in the band—the kinds of things we talk about and are interested in vibe off for the substance of the music. Whereas HEXVESSEL is much more from a solo perspective, it’s really like my soul music, if you like—the music that I really identify with, who I am, rather than just like a discourse. It’s more like with GRAVE PLEASURES, I find it’s more of a writing exercise, a challenge to write pop songs and things like that. But with HEXVESSEL, it’s really like taking from the heart source, if you like. It’s more a case of a life story.
Is it easier for you to write for HEXVESSEL in that sense?
I think writing is… I can’t really think of a word like easy or difficult, but it’s something that I find I need in order to live. So I guess I have that curse of people who feel creative. I get easily bored with just natural reality. And I have to think through a creative prism to live. So I am constantly thinking about writing while living, and I need to live to write. Those two things sort of go together. So I would say that it’s sort of necessary, rather than easy or hard. It’s just this necessary thing that I need to do, and, you know, I’m privileged that I’ve had a chance to be able to do it, and people want to release the records and stuff like that. But it feels like, for me, it’s kind of like a daily urge, a need to fulfill.
The press release for this record said that you were “Holed up in a homemade studio in his log cabin during the winter of 2022,” was this studio specifically made for creating this record?
I always wanted to have a place to record, and I made it for this record. I’ve done other things there as well, but it was really intended for this record, so I kind of rushed it together to get it finished. It’s funny that there was one Finnish magazine, a heavy music magazine, that translated it in the review to woodshed, which is very different from a log cabin – a woodshed is just where you store wood. I wasn’t sitting in a place where you store wood to get inspired to write the album. But that’s the way the guy saw it, which was very funny actually because it would have been really kind of more desolate to sit in a woodshed, so it’s a log cabin. It has been used as a cabin, and it was interesting because it’s quite an old place for Finland, a 100-year-old or older building. I find that kind of thing quite inspiring, to let the outside in when you’re recording and not just to create something in a bubble. A lot of people are sitting in their apartments staring at their computer screens, and I don’t write like that. I write usually when I’m out walking or when I’m doing something else, like renovating a log cabin in an old log house. I’m thinking about the sorts of things that will inspire me around this music – ancient history, pre-human history, and things like that. Like what it takes to build a homestead to survive and things like that. Those are the sort of things that inspire the music, not just the lyrics. I think it all comes together as this sort of way of living rather than an imagined fantasy world. It’s just a summation of my reality.
Yeah, that is quite interesting actually. It’s difficult to explain, but I feel like these songs were written by an old soul if you believe in that kind of stuff.
Yeah, I think that we all are. I mean, we just don’t allow ourselves to be maybe. We never have a chance to be in tune with how old our DNA is, how old our human history is, and how wonderful that is, I think. The recent history of men that people can get in touch with their ancestry is a really exciting thing because you start to get a bigger sense of things. Maybe technology will help us in that way to have a longer-term perspective because humans tend to think really short term, and that’s why we can’t really care about our environment and things like that. But I think it’s a good thing. When I’m creating, I’m trying to get to that place, trying to get outside of myself. I think a lot of the psychedelic movement, and the psychedelic stuff I was doing before, really taught me how to be in tune. Now it’s less about the psychedelic culture and much more about the idea of using psychedelic methods to be more in tune with this self that is outside of your perceived self in this reality – it’s kind of like your real self. But people always have this idea that to find themselves, they’re always concerned about what that’s going to be, rather than just letting themselves be. Much of the music embodies the idea of allowing yourself to be. I think nature is a strong theme in the music because it’s a good tool for meditation to get into your old soul, if you like.
I watched this extensive documentary series about Belgium’s history last year and it just struck me how much of a miracle it is that we are still alive, considering that as Europeans our ancestors have been through multiple wars, natural disasters, and pandemics like the Bubonic Plague and so on.
Absolutely, I think that also allows for a kind of deeper sense of community. You get this idea that so many people, so many generations have been through so much, and you get a much deeper understanding of where people come from. Human beings are quite fantastic, so that’s something you get more of a sense of when you know your place within the universe, it gives you a wider appreciation for the universe.
Is that something you are also interested in, knowing who your ancestors are? Is that something you have researched?
Yeah, I have, and, of course, being Irish, you’re quite in touch with where your family comes from. People usually know their family history by heart, usually. I’m quite interested, at least from the countryside where we’re from, and so you have this idea already within where you’re… if you’re Irish in a way. But yeah, it’s something I’m interested in. I wouldn’t say that it’s like a really necessary or important thing to HEXVESSEL so much, but I think it’s an aspect.
Now, being an expat in this country, do you feel like Finnish nature inspires you in a different way than it does to a native?
I have always been in search of things, deeply connected with the climate and nature. It’s not just about nature in a postcard way; it’s about the entire picture, focusing on the seasons and their changes. Ancestrally, this connection would have been a natural part of our cyclical relationship with nature, altered through time and immigration. I’ve consistently sought this connection, particularly with Nordic nature, finding it conducive to a creative way of living. Living through the natural rhythms of the environment, the highs and lows, teaches valuable lessons, much like a painter understanding the quality of light and different aspects of the surroundings for inspiration. This pursuit has always been enlightening for me. When I discovered Finland, everything seemed to fall into place. The culture of the people resonates with me. I find great enjoyment in Nordic nature. It’s challenging to articulate, but you find your spiritual home where it speaks to you. It’s an idea worth pursuing instead of settling with, “I live here, and that’s that,” as many people do. The world can be both small or large, depending on your perspective, and you have the power to change your environment.
How much does Finnish culture by itself inspire you, considering you are from a Catholic country, which is somewhat different.
Yeah, I think that Catholicism, at its worst, and Lutheranism share many similar aspects. Especially in Lapland, you find it’s quite restrictive, much like in certain parts of Ireland. It has been both detrimental and beneficial to society. Lutherans in Lapland, for instance, saved people from alcohol in some ways, while in others, they seemed to condemn them to it. The perspective on history determines how you view it. The church serves as a social hub, crucial in a vast country like Finland where people are scattered. It’s a bit disheartening when the ABC [gas station chain in Finland] replaces the church. I have a generally friendly attitude toward the church because, value-wise, it benefits people and the community. Some pagans unintentionally try to emulate the church by creating new organizations, but I believe paganism should remain unorganized. Despite the political issues within the organized church, I appreciate the values it carries. Burning the church, as a symbol, is powerful, representing a rejection of rigid rules associated with religion. I’ve had arguments about this, but I think it signifies letting go of strict ideologies around how to live and what constitutes sin. Catholic guilt, a lingering feeling of always being in the wrong, is something I tried to shed for a long time. Now, I accept it as part of who I am, something I can’t escape.
I think the biggest contrast between Catholic cultures and Finland is perhaps the catholic guilt.
I think so, yeah. The problem with Catholicism is that you can get rid of your sin by just confessing and saying sorry. Tomorrow, you can go and ask for forgiveness, and everything is fine because you’re back to zero, one of God’s children again. It makes a mockery of the whole concept. With Lutherans, it’s a bit different; there’s a bit more consequence – you’re told you might burn in hell, and that’s that.
Going back to the record, you mentioned already that it’s sort of an intuitive process, but in terms of writing the songs, how does that usually go for you?
Writing can take many different forms; I have various approaches. People often ask, expecting a set of tools, as if I sit down and decide, ‘Okay, what tool am I going to use today to write?’ It’s more like a river bursting its banks, finding any way to manifest. It depends on what I have at hand or where I am in a given situation. If I have a guitar nearby, it will come out that way. If I’m walking and get a melody, it will be recorded on my phone. Patti Smith explained it like an orgasm, uncontrollable and just there. It’s a hormonal release, much like feeling sexual. It’s similar when it comes to writing; it just comes, and you have to get it out. For me, it usually stems from living and nature, along with old museums or art exhibitions—anything that stimulates me. Then, I start to feel the urge in my own way. In the old days, it was more reactive; I’d see something artistically pleasing, and I’d want to create something similar. Nowadays, it’s more about turning on my intuition. If I see something I like, it inspires me, but you’d never know what specifically inspired me. It’s not black and white, like going to see Oppenheimer and then writing a GRAVE PLEASURES‘ song about the apocalypse. It’s more about strange things inspiring something different. So, inspiration inspires itself. There are many methods, and I’ve used as many as I can think of, like cut-up techniques, recording snippets and piecing them together, overlaying things, doodling—automatic writing, in a way. But there are various methods, and I suppose everyone uses their own.
Towards the end of the album, the album gets a little bit more intense and complex, it was described as more avant-garde in the press release. Is there a deeper meaning behind that or was that just what happened?
There’s always a flow and meaning behind how the album is arranged with the songs, and there’s also much meaning behind creating an album. Not all the songs necessarily stand on their own; they have to fit together in the context of an album. Many on this record are like that, but I feel they belong together. The flow is essential due to how the season takes you. I really wanted to explore that on this record, something we hadn’t done before – to discuss how necessary the seasonal cycle is and how it affects you. Every year, you get this feeling of “Oh, it’s winter, I wasn’t ready for this,” and then the familiar comfort of the changes in life and weather sets in. It’s a very familiar, ancient thing that kicks in, tying back to the old soul concept. The record flows in a way that gives a ritual sense of initiation; you step in, go to the inner sanctum, and then receive your transcendence. It’s like a magical spell or ritual with different stages. I explored this idea in our album “All Tree,” inspired by my thesis on how to ritualize the creative process, reflecting it musically. The act of transcendence you want to create, using psychedelic methods, involves the idea of incorporating a ritual method into your music, allowing people to experience that beautiful feeling when they realize they’re genuinely glad it’s winter – loving it, even though initially, they felt unprepared and didn’t want it, and then feeling a certain sadness as it departs.
I think the album art reflects that very well, there’s sort of a feeling of coziness in it. Was that intentional?
Yeah, because I think it’s a real shame and sad that Christmas and the Christian religion have claimed ownership over the cozy familiarity of the winter season. Christmas cards and similar things are ways we relate affectionately to nature, the climate, and everything, but they’ve abstracted and bastardized it, turning it on its head. I wanted a more pagan image, quite blasphemous, to capture that Christmasy cozy feeling—imagining candles and logs burning in the fire. I wanted to convey that the feeling of winter doesn’t require Jesus or the desert religion to have a familiar and beautiful relationship with that season. That was the idea.
Do you feel like spending the time isolated in the cabin gave you more perspectives about life and so on?
Yeah, absolutely. I think that’s what the album is about—it’s very much about finding your spiritual home and center, the place that anchors you and what you’re anchored to. That’s sort of what I’m saying there: it’s an acceptance but also an admission that serves as an open door for others. That’s what the “Polar Veil” kind of means—when you lift behind… when you go behind that, what you find is always the idea of finding this home, no longer feeling that this is something alien, that you’re separate from the environment, but that you’re part of it and within it. So that’s the core of the album.
I know you are having a show in Helsinki. Do you have any other plans as well?
Yeah, we have the show in Helsinki, and then we have… well, first, we have Hämeenlinna, which is quite a small show. I really love playing there; it’s a lovely town and a great venue. We always want to try to play there, even though there are not so many people living there. We also play in Lahti at Torvi, and then we play in Turku as well. After that, we play in Oulu. Then we have this small tour of the Baltics—Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, and Poland, where we’ll be performing. I really enjoy playing in places that I like, and I like being on the road and being in places that you don’t necessarily want to be but you’re just there because it’s on the way to somewhere else. It doesn’t mean I strongly dislike anywhere; it’s more a case of wanting to pick the venues I like and work with promoters I enjoy collaborating with, getting the right people along. In the past, we’ve been booked into venues where we thought, “What are we doing here? This isn’t our crowd, this isn’t our place.” So I want to avoid that. After COVID, it kind of settled for bands; you know it’s expensive to go out there. When you go out, you should do it in the right way. So we’re trying to do this little run where we go out and play to our audience.
Is there ever a moment when you will just start performing at forests?
Yeah, it would be really good. It’s just that it’s not really practical. We’ve thought about it, and we’ve tried really hard to make more of that sort of thing happen. But in the end, it’s kind of a case of compromising until it doesn’t really represent what you wanted to do in the first place. We did a little bit around “All Tree,” where we played in churches and stuff. It gets to a point where the church doesn’t have proper power, it doesn’t have proper lights. You’re sort of there in this bright light, in this place where the priest maybe doesn’t really want you to be, where the sound isn’t really quite right for that kind of music. It feels like you should study to play in these environments for your whole life to be able to perform that well. Ultimately, clubs are built for this purpose—for music. So, in the end, I’m sort of resigned to thinking that people can take the album with them into the forest and have that experience with headphones, and I’ll stick to the clubs. It’s really hard to put those two things together to play in nature, and as well, the two cultures don’t mix because then you get a lot of people who just like throwing trash in the forest. I don’t really like that either. Some of those forest festivals are not really eco-friendly.
Great! Thank you so much for your time!
In February 2024, HEXVESSEL are heading out with melodic death metal act INSOMNIUM for a select run of dates in Finland. Be sure to catch them on the road…
Interview by Laureline Tilkin
