Introduction

Some time ago I gave up harassing bands and their management for interviews, networking my way through the plastic smiles and subverted gazes of industry zombies, and offering my opinion on releases. This change did not come from a lack of interest in music, in fact it was born from a renewed love and intense passion for the core of music, the artform, emotional connection, and expression of ideas. (more)

My own opinion became meaningless, and the invisible barrier between me and the artist as I routinely quizzed them, no matter how creatively, became unbearable.
I realized the only satisfaction I got out of the journalist lifestyle was during the rare moments when I wasn’t actually working…in which an artist would talk to me ‘off the record’, share a beer, or get lost in St. Louis looking for an open restaurant at 4am. Perhaps I was finally outgrowing the awe and worship stage of being a music fan, which inspired me to begin writing about bands as far back as 1995. Most of the artists I respect and love are the same age as me, or younger…it became more and more apparent that the perspective I share with them is beyond the marketing machinery, business grind and public relations.

Drinking myself into oblivion for 4 months was not a valid method of executing this kind of professional suicide. I turned instead to photography, something I had put aside for years while focusing all of my energy into writing for corporations (and don’t be fooled into thinking just about every metal mag is not a corporate entity, because they are too). I began to see music the way it sounded to me, fluid, moody, and real. No more were the contrived relationships, the preformatted conversations, and the video cameras or tape recorders changing everyone in the room. Instead there was the undeniable and unspoken communication in motion.
Have you ever listened to a song and the lyric and thought, “That’s just how I feel, that says it all.” Or what about hearing a particularily moving riff that conveys every ounce of your state of mind? This same connection is evident through the lens when I photograph a musician. The image I capture while their very special minds hear the note they are about to play, or contemplate their next action in the truly abstract way only musical beings do, captures a part of me within it as well.

I recently saw Opeth perform on the Melloboat Festival this past weekend - perhaps the 5th time I have seen them - along with Anekdoten and several others. I had chosen to go as a sort of induction to the next chapter of my life, having recently entered my 30s. I was actually the most excited to see Katatonia, a band I am thoroughly in love with, but Opeth holds a special place for me, both musically and personally.

I had no preconceptions of Mikael Akerfeldt, no expectations or observations on who I think he is or how he thinks. I only knew that I was eager to see what part of me he and Opeth would uncover once the images were developed.

He was relaxed, comedic, unassuming and beyond humble. He maintained throughout the entire experience, through seasickness, drunkenness, and constant social stimulus. I cannot say any of these qualities are ones I possess with any strength, but seeing now that the best of my images ended up conveying a kind of calm euphoria, I can only assess a deepened desire for these two things within my own life.

I took from this experience an understanding of the beautiful contrast between light and shadow, tender and raging, beautiful and harsh, which creates the tension, release, and glowing aftermath of Opeth’s sound. Listening to ‘Harvest’ with both eyes and ears, I was able to exist within that small moment the song was conceived in, quietly, privately, and distantly.

Do artists like Mike Akerfeldt understand the power held within their own creations? Probably not on the surface, but certainly in the instant the notes are conjured and words penned.

-Much in the way the images slowly drift into view upon the paper under the silvery waves of palladium.

~Vail