With “Shadow Without A Horizon,” WITHERER have delivered an hour-long memento mori that fuses blackened death/doom intensity with funeral dirges and ambient dread. We sat down with founding member Tiamoath to discuss the personal trauma, creative evolution, and philosophical underpinnings that shaped the band’s most harrowing and ambitious work to date.
“Shadow Without A Horizon” is described as an hour-long memento mori. How did your personal experiences with mortality shape the emotional and sonic weight of the album?
Tiamoath: The first parts I specifically wrote for “Shadow Without a Horizon” were composed in the immediate aftermath of a brush with death – I was in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. So the genesis of the album came from a place of real despair and trauma. I wasn’t sure what to do with what I was writing at first, as the parts were more “funeral doom” in sound, and didn’t suit Witherer as it was then conceived (it was more so an atmospheric black metal project), nor did it fit with the other band I was in at the time, which was black/death metal.
As songs began coalescing, I conceived of this idea of an album that functioned as an auditory memento mori, contrasting really frenetic, vicious sections that capture the fear and panic at the moment of death, as well as slower sections that evoke a sense of decay. And so I took that trauma and funneled it into “Shadow Without a Horizon.” I started experimenting with some of the atmospheric black metal parts I had for Witherer, rewriting them to fit with this more doom-laden material, and eventually it only made sense to explore a new direction for Witherer – hence, the blackened death/doom entity it has become.
When we got to recording, this theme unfortunately only became more appropriate. Both Ohrracle (guitarist and vocalist) and Hex Viscerae (drummer) experienced their own health issues during the recording process – O. in the form of a cystic growth which thankfully turned out to be benign, and H. in the form of stroke caused by a sheared blood vessel in the neck. These were quite awful experiences, but having this project at this time really offered an opportunity for some catharsis. It’s certainly a recording experience that I think will stick with all of us.
The album oscillates between suffocating doom passages and spectral, almost meditative atmospheres. How do you approach creating that kind of dynamic contrast without losing cohesion?
Tiamoath: A lot of bands I enjoy are ones that transcend genres, or weave them together in interesting ways. I really respect bands that utilize genre to a good effect, to be clear – jumping across genres does not mean the music is somehow “better.” But certain ideas require an expansive, exploratory approach and vaster dynamics to communicate the theme being delved into. In the case of “Shadow,” far more attention had to be paid to the overall flow of the album than any previous project I’d been in. It was a challenge, to be sure, albeit a tremendously rewarding one. I also have to say, the ideas that H. and O. brought to the songs I’d written vastly elevated the compositions – some of my favorite parts are things they brought during the recording, ideas which I’d never have come up with myself! And certainly, M. Adem and C. O’Neill contributed immensely to the final soundscapes. They were really willing to work with the concept of the record and produce some incredible work.
I’d also not tried to write funeral doom before “Shadow,” and so I went back to some of my favorite records with more of a “songwriter’s” ear. It really is amazing to me how these bands handle vocal dynamics, melodic dynamics, and so on, allowing the songs room to breathe and develop over vast spans of time. While Witherer is more dissonant and grimy than some funeral doom bands we really respect (Bell Witch and Ahab being key influences), those elements were very inspiring for the overall structural approach to “Shadow.”
You describe WITHERER as a shedding of previous identities. What did that transformation mean to each of you creatively, and how did it inform the writing process for this record?
Tiamoath: The moniker is not uncommon in extreme metal, of course, but it’s something we took very seriously in relation to the musical identity of this project. It serves, I suppose, a ritualistic function – enabling a separation of oneself from the bleakness of the subject matter at hand, thus creating a gap for exploration. I’m a believer in the idea that “the only way out is through” – the only way to cope with trauma is to confront it rather than avoid it. The creation of some sense of artifice, a sense of ceremonial situation, if you like, actually enables that confrontation in a more direct fashion precisely because you can set aside certain preconceptions and hesitations. H. came up with his moniker while he was still in the hospital after his stroke – Hex Viscerae combined both that sense of a curse, an affliction, with the quite literally visceral feeling of human finitude. I want to be clear that I’m not speaking for him, but to me, if that creative thought arrived at that moment, it really speaks to the power that art has to think with that kind of situation, rather than avoid it. With a genre like extreme metal that deals with the darkest, bleakest subject matter one can really tackle, I think for many musicians and artists it serves that purpose. It certainly enabled that aspect of “Shadow” to a significant degree.
With elements of black metal, death metal, and funeral doom, this record defies easy classification. Do you think genre still matters in extreme music, or is it more of a reference point now?
Tiamoath: I hope genre still matters! I’m glad a band like Motorhead really stuck to the band’s concept, and produced consistently excellent records that explored and introduced new ideas here and there while staying fundamentally rooted in the genre with which that band identified itself. I actually reject the idea that genre is somehow inherently confining: I think bands trying to “abandon” or “transcend” genre will only produce their own orthodoxy; at the same time, genre cannot become a fence over which you will not step. Even a band like Enslaved, whose sound has evolved significantly over the years, has essentially remained a black metal band throughout its entire existence. To me, genre establishes a set of expectations for both the band and the audience which facilitates exploration within that “field,” as it were. Genre simply has to be harnessed, I suppose.
The production credits show collaboration across several studios and engineers. Was that a logistical decision, or did it serve an artistic purpose in achieving the record’s atmosphere?
Tiamoath: It was a bit of both. The core members live in different parts of Canada, so there was the practical element of recording at different times and in different places. Roland Rodas of Cavern of Echoes handled the sessions with guitars and most of the vocals, while Matt Hems at Seventh Level Sound handled the drums and some of the other recording. M. Adem was also in another part of Canada, hence the separate session there. I’m really grateful for the excellent work all of those people did for the album: it was quite long-term and at times challenging, but absolutely everyone pulled their weight.
The sessions with C. O’Neill for “The Wailing Hours” were a bit of a different matter. His knowledge of music is incredibly broad and deep, and he has an interest in ambient music across many different genres – everything from the ambient stuff Björk does to Sunn O))) – and I knew he could produce something really sinister and eerie but also quite distinctive. So I brought the ideas I had for this instrumental “centerpiece” for the album, and he immediately had ideas for sounds and layers to incorporate. Because he has a home studio we had the luxury of time which, of course, one doesn’t always have during recording. So we were able to experiment for a few days with a variety of synths, samples, instruments, and so on, and ultimately came up with what’s on the record.
You’ve described the songwriting process as a multi-year journey. What changed the most about the album’s direction or concept from when it began to what it eventually became?
Tiamoath: The main thing that changed, actually, was Witherer itself. As I already mentioned, when I started the project it was a one-man atmospheric black metal band, and it was actually fairly well-developed by the time I started writing “Shadow” – aside from “Milk Sea,” the one public release before this album, I had an unreleased demo recorded and about a dozen songs written. But when the “muse” for this album arrived, it ended up reconfiguring Witherer’s sound, and a long process of reworking existing ideas alongside the more funeral doom material, ultimately weaving in elements of death metal, and, of course, the ambient sections. Witherer still remains rooted in black metal, but the overall sound has changed quite considerably. I’m really inspired by the direction towards which Witherer has evolved.
What pieces of gear—amps, pedals, or otherwise—were essential in creating the cavernous tones and dense textures on Shadow Without A Horizon?
Tiamoath: O. has an incredible ear for tone, and really deserves the credit for that. I could not care less about gear, to be honest – writing and recording is what I find the most rewarding – so it’s great to have someone that is both incredibly creative himself and has a solid understanding of that side of things. The root of O.’s guitar sound was an ENGL Fireball head, which we worked with through a few different pedals and so on to produce distinctive tones for his guitar and mine. As far as the bass, the main contributors to that sound were a Darkglass Microtubes B7K pedal ran through an Ampeg cab, which are absolutely fantastic pieces of equipment, especially for metal bass where you might want some distortion that cuts through while maintaining an overall warmth which provides a weight and fullness to the mix in conjunction with the guitars.
H.’s drum set-up was also a huge contributor to the sound on this record generally, of course, but specifically to the distinctive textures that make “Shadow” what it is. I really respect H. as a thoughtful, inventive, and above all intentional percussionist. He developed a set-up specifically for the Witherer recording – aside from what he usually uses, some of the most important elements were a darker ride cymbal as well as a set of two broken 18” crashes, which he stacked on top of each other to produce a really interesting effect. Especially in parts such as the ritualistic churning in the last third of “Praises,” those sorts of textures were critical in making them as impactful as they ended up being.
If WITHERER had to perform one song underwater for a council of ancient sea creatures, which track from the album would you choose, and how would you adapt it for abyssal acoustics?
Tiamoath: Interesting question. Perhaps not something from our album – it’d kind of have to be an Ahab cover, wouldn’t it?
“Shadow Without A Horizon” is not just a sonic experience—it’s a confrontation with mortality shaped by real, lived trauma. Through layered genre fusion, collaborative effort, and a deep sense of purpose, WITHERER have crafted a work that resounds with existential weight. It’s not just heavy in sound—it’s heavy in truth.
Categories: Interviews, Music, Witherer
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