Canadian heavy metal veterans Divinity have never been a band to take the easy road. Formed in late 1997 in Calgary, Alberta, the group carved their name from a Pantera lyric — “A now blacked heart is reaching out in divinity” — and went on to build a reputation rooted in loyalty, intensity, and uncompromising vision.
Though currently unsigned, Divinity’s résumé includes past partnerships with Nuclear Blast and Candlelight Records, and a career defined more by perseverance than industry trends. Guitarist James Duncan recently took time out to speak with us, diving deep into the band’s origins, creative evolution, DIY philosophy, and the meaning behind their latest release, Immoralist.
What followed was an unfiltered, wide-ranging conversation about friendship, metal, technology, politics, and why Divinity remains as dangerous and relevant as ever nearly two decades later.
We’re all getting older day by day. Now, Divinity is a band you started with somebody else?
J: Technically, Shawn—the singer—started the band in high school. I met him about a year later. I was in college and he was still in high school, around 16 or 17. He had already come up with the name and written a few songs, and when we met, that’s when the real Divinity began.
We collaborated right away—we both write, we share the same vision—and we were really young. We clearly ran into each other for a reason, because nearly 20 years later, here we are.
Z: That’s amazing. So is the bond more about friendship or musicianship?
J: Oh, we’re absolutely best friends—all of us. My brother joined about a year later after the original drummer left; he was around 18 at the time. Jeff, our second singer now, was the bass player for years, left for a while, and eventually came back as a vocalist.
So the four of us have been together for about 20 years. We hang out constantly—mountain biking, camping, all kinds of stuff—on top of the music.
Z: How did you first get into metal? Were you into other kinds of music before that?
J: I started on piano when I was really young. My parents put me into lessons right away, and I stuck with it. I finished my Grade A Conservatory piano when I was 17—that’s as high as you can go before the master level.
But when I was about 13, my cousin played Master of Puppets by Metallica for me—specifically “Disposable Heroes.” It was like a lightning bolt through my spine. I had never heard anything like it. The first thought I had was, I’m going to love this music when I’m an old man. It changed me forever.
I didn’t want to play piano anymore—I wanted an electric guitar. My dad made a deal with me: if I finished my Grade A piano, he’d buy me a new guitar. I didn’t realize that meant two more years of brutal work, but I signed the contract anyway.
In the end, I finished the piano—and got a BC Rich snakeskin guitar out of it. The second I was done, I ditched piano and ran straight into metal.
Z: What was the local scene like in Calgary when you started?
J: It was really strong around ’97–’98. Bands like Pericardium—Rob Daugherty played in Into Eternity later—and Thorazine, who were absolute death metal legends. Dark Minion, which later became Minion, and Frank Stutsky from that scene went on to play in Breach of Trust.
We started as more of a Machine Head / Metallica-style band, surrounded by death metal bands, and without even realizing it, we morphed into death metal ourselves. We were obsessed with old-school Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, Testament—the Bay Area thrash scene was everything.
Looking back, those bands influenced us way more than we realized. Now we’ve lost most of that Machine Head / Metallica vibe and leaned fully into death metal.
Z: You’ve released three EPs over the last few years. Do you have a favorite?
J: When we wanted to put out a new album, we realized it just wasn’t coming together as one piece. We didn’t have all the concepts or music ready, so we said, screw it—let’s split it into three parts.
We added a cover of “The Dead Speak From Beyond” by Pericardium and released the trilogy. It was important because we’d been stagnant for a while. After Singularity, Sasha and Nick both left, and that changed the band forever. We had to completely restructure who we were.
Coming back together for Part I was about reintroducing ourselves—our new selves—and getting back to where we’re supposed to be. It feels right now.
As for favorites, I’d say “Hallowed Earth.” I originally wrote it with a Strapping Young Lad feel, but it turned into something else entirely—lots of dissonance, very simple but creative.
Another one is “Conquer.” I thought I was going to write it, but Shawn showed up with a fully formed seven-minute monster. I listened and said, “That’s the song.” I wrote the piano intro and some lyrics, but that track is basically Shawn’s vision—and it’s perfect.
Z: The album artwork has a strong green hue. Why green?
J: Our albums follow a color progression—Allegory was red, Singularity was blue, and Immoralist is green. But green also represents rebirth. We wanted it to feel organic but still hard—stone mixed with life.
Z: Who’s the man on the cover?
J: That’s The Immoralist. Or maybe it’s you. Or anyone. Everything is metaphorical. Art should be open to interpretation—like movies that leave you thinking instead of spelling everything out.
Our lyrics are the same way. Shawn, Jeff, and I split them pretty evenly, though they’ve taken the lead more recently because they do it so well. Nothing is literal—it’s meant to be interpreted.
Z: You were once on Nuclear Blast, and now you’re DIY. Can that work today?
J: That’s the biggest question in the industry right now. The internet changed everything. Your online identity isn’t who you actually are, but people judge you instantly based on it.
Back in the day, you played shows, kicked ass, and people knew if you were real. Now that’s harder to see. We’ve been through the system—we signed with Nuclear Blast, and that was huge. We spent nearly $100,000 of our own money on gear, production, and touring before that deal.
But we’re not a band that can tour endlessly, and that’s what big labels need. So now we play our cards differently.
Z: What are the positives of social media for you?
J: The connections. I have great friends I’ve never met in person. I talk to people I once thought were untouchable rock stars. The internet humanized everyone.
But it also confuses everything. There’s too much information, too many opinions, and not enough truth. It’s powerful, but it’s chaotic. As a band, the challenge is cutting through the noise without looking like you don’t belong.
That said, the internet helped us tour with Devin Townsend and make a lot of things happen. It’s a double-edged sword.
Z: Is it harder to stay inspired when music is basically free now?
J: Writing music has never been an issue for us. That’s what Immoralist is about—technology, conspiracy, sci-fi, life, death, love. The world right now feeds directly into our concepts.
If you read the lyrics front to back, there’s a story there. The closest comparison I’d give is The Matrix—not directly, but in spirit. That sense of questioning reality and control. Those ideas are everywhere now.
Z: Any tour plans? Will we see you in the U.S.?
J: Right now, releasing this album is a huge accomplishment for us. We all have full-time jobs, so we have to be strategic. If one person can’t do it, we usually don’t do it at all.
That said, we’ve already had offers. We’d love to play with Fallujah again, get to the UK, and definitely return to Montreal—that’s where our biggest Canadian scene is.
We’ll wait for the right moment.
Z: We can’t wait for the album to drop. I think metal fans are going to love it.
J: I really hope so. It turned out exactly how we wanted. For us, it’s a massive achievement. There’s a lot to absorb, and I hope people get the most out of it. Hell yeah—great talking to you.
Nearly twenty years since its inception, Divinity stands as proof that longevity in metal isn’t built on hype — it’s built on trust, shared vision, and relentless honesty. From piano conservatory roots to death-metal dissonance, from major label deals to fiercely independent releases, the band continues to evolve without losing its core identity.
With Immoralist, Divinity delivers not just an album, but a fully realized concept — one that challenges listeners to think, question, and interpret for themselves. As Duncan makes clear, this is a band unconcerned with trends, algorithms, or easy validation. They’re here to create something real — and they’re doing it on their own terms.
The album is available now via Divinity.ca, iTunes, and Amazon, with an exclusive digipak CD offered directly through the band’s website. Featuring a 24-page booklet that expands the album’s narrative and visual themes, it’s a must-have for fans who still believe metal is best experienced as a complete, physical work of art.
Categories: Interviews, Music, News
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