Interview with Alukta

Alukta was born in mourning and ritual – how did personal grief shape the sound and feel of Merok? Did music become its own kind of rite for you?
D: Music has always been a way to express everything that I cannot because of whatever mental problems you could think of. Personal grief, fear, sadness… Merok embodies all this. The concept is Marie’s initial idea, but you can imagine how easy it was for me to understand it.

M: It is, like pretty much any of our project, some kind of catharsis thus you can call it a ritual too. How did mourning shaped the sound, well, it’s just pure feeling and instinct, I can’t say we worked on it a lot, it’s more of an instinctive urge. The vocals for example are all one shot recording and I think you can definitely feel the extreme suffering and sincerity in it.

You’ve both carved deep paths – Marie through the bleak beauty of Brouillard and Vertige, Déhà through countless haunting landscapes. What was the spark that pulled you both into this shared ritual?
D: After hearing the latest Brouillard album (it’s called Brouillard), the third song of it (named Brouillard) has this atmospheric doom introduction which called my depths to scream at Marie «do this music again now». And the rest is history!

M: Ahah yes that is the real foundation! I have enough atmospheric BM bands and needed to experiment something new, get out of my comfort zone, as say the motherfuckers. Then the concept emerged and I was sooo into it!

What’s behind the name Alukta? Does it carry personal or symbolic meaning, or did it emerge from something more instinctive and primal?
M: In Sulawesi, Alukta could translate into “Our ways” / “Our practices” in terms of rites/customs/way of living for the Toraja people, so a traditional manner of doing things like celebrating a funeral, griefing and accompanying the dead in the afterlife, the way their ancestors have always do. So it fits the band’s music that is definitely ritualistic and a tribute to old lifestyle and cultural heritage.

What pushed you, Marie, toward slowing things down – toward a doomier expression of darkness, with clean vocals no less?
M: This is something I experienced briefly in the last Brouillard album and I liked the result, so I figured I should use it for real. Also, I don’t know if I’m getting some confidence or experience but I enjoy using my voice more and more, in any form, it’s the most satisfying instrument I think, so liberating!  And I wanted to propose something different than the usual, these clean voices have a deep introspective and ritual feel, it fitted the concept so well.

There’s a ceremonial pacing to Merok – like each track is part of a larger rite. Did you build the album as a kind of sonic ritual from the start, or did that structure emerge naturally?
It has not been build in a special order meant for this, as inspiration just comes by and I put no boundaries while composing, but indeed, in the end,  the album is structured like a funeral with grief, then the ceremony and rites to end with the revival. So yes you can take it like some stages of grief metaphor, taking the time to feel every phase, every feeling, every ups and downs…

How much of the album was shaped in the writing versus what was summoned in the studio? Was Opus Magnum more of a temple or a battleground during recording?
D: Both, and it’s a good thing it was both. From pre-productions done at home to shape the whole album, it’s never truly easy even when everything flows. Marie & I understand each other, despite having opposite opinions, but we’re intelligent and understand that eerie effort had to be done for music, by music. We have no egos, just ears.

Déhà, your touch is all over this record – textured, oppressive, yet strangely intimate. How did you balance clarity with chaos while preserving that ritualistic atmosphere?
D: This might sound cliché, but you just go with it. It’s my job to understand what a band desires in terms of mood, sound and so on. So being able to put myself in it, constricted in the band’s vision, it’s the perfect combination. Moreover, I would only trust Marie to rail me back in, if I would go too far. The problem in being «free» is that you never work with your surroundings: this was not the case on this album. It was… seamless. The hard parts were human, and only human.

You drew inspiration from the Toraja people and their funeral rites – what was it about their approach to death that echoed with your own emotional or spiritual state?
D: As far as I am concerned, I am scared shitless of death. I have no way to compute it, it’s been a black spot in my life since birth. The way the Toraja people handle it made me understand a completely other side of it, which is really deep and personally interpreted. This, definitely, helps to this day.

M: it’s definitely more of a therapy than an echo, trying to embrace another civilization’s approach to open the possibilities. The Torajas give another vision of passing away. They consider dead people only sick until the funeral happens, and keep them mummified in their house until that day. The funeral is a huge celebration, even if there is a lot of sadness, they believe in an afterlife that the dead needs to reach through a journey, and this theme is actually something Déhà and I have already come up with in our other common project “Transcending Rites” but without the Toraja’s folklore. Death, rite of passage, transcendence, being born anew… are matters that fascinate us.

Was your creative process at all ritualistic? Did you incorporate any real-life ceremonies, fasting, solitude, offerings – anything that blurred the line between art and rite?
D: We are ritualistic in every day life. You don’t need to have a round table with a pentagram drawn in pig blood to be able to channel what you need to channel. We, both, know. There’s no need to explain further on the ways. Our ways are ours. There were never rules to follow. We know. Screaming is a ritual, isn’t it? Gathering two people who need not speaking to understand, isn’t it a ritual as well? It depends on many, many things. What we did when doing this album is ours, and ours only. It’s like explaining Black Metal: You don’t. You know it, or not.

M: I see all my projects as forms of ritual. When I compose, I immerse myself completely in an atmosphere, I am 24/7 in the creation, to really enter intimately into the concept, plunging myself into a form of trance. I really experience inspiration as a form of magical reception, it’s as if I start to create in spite of myself because I receive ideas that I channel, as long as I am in the right state of mind, open and ready. Despite some substances, I can use percussions for example to induce this trance, depends on the project and atmosphere… But we don’t use offerings or special religious dances, our rituals are subtler and mostly not borrowed from any existing codes.

Are the lyrics rooted in personal mourning, imagined myth, or something older – ancestral echoes, perhaps?
M: Personal mourning is the real first trigger that gave birth to Alukta, after Déhà advised me to make some Doom music. Death happened and I got overwhelmed by sadness and it seemed to be the perfect combo to exult. But there is a mixture of this, of our own fears or experiences with death, and of the Toraja folklore and rites. “Laissez entrer ceux qui pleurent” for example (let the ones who cry enter) tells about the human circle that these people make to sing for the dead and everyone who wants to join to cry or sing should be welcome to this circle

Grief moves in spirals. Would you say Merok follows that spiral – descending, looping, resolving – or does it sit in stillness, in the eye of the storm?
M: Yeah that’s a nice vision of it! The first songs are deep grief and we end on Exuvia which is a revival (I invite you to watch the video clip of that song that we made by the way !) so yeah, and if you’re too optimistic in the end you can punch yourself in the face by putting back the album from the start

Does Merok represent a complete rite – a single funeral, so to speak – or is it just the first chapter in a larger myth Alukta will continue to tell?
M: On one hand, I hope there will be other rituals, because I really enjoyed doing this, and want to explore deeper this new way. I have some more ideas and the urge of using this clean vocals again! Also because I don’t like to create a whole project for some one shot thing, I like that there is a continuum and a many chapter thing that creates a whole. On the other hand, another album could happen because death stroke again around us and, well… haha

 Outside of metal, were there any strange books, forgotten records, ethnographic films, or off-the-map travels that shaped the vision behind Merok?
D: My own experiences with the occult practices is definitely a big part of how I express myself in this band, definitely. There could be records (Dead Can Dance, Ahgast…) or else, but honestly, not really for me.

What role does silence play in your music? Not just as a break between sounds – but as an active, almost sacred presence?
D: Silence is a double-edged sword for me. Music being my work and passion, I love it and hate it sometimes. I miss silence as much as I miss my head being filled by music. It’s difficult to explain. But let me give you an example: when I received the testpresses of Merok, I listened to them one at a time and it was a weird moment: changing the sides was annoying, like I didn’t want the music to stop. Once the second side was finished with Exuvia, only then silence was welcome.

M: I listen to very few music and silence is a real need to my mental health. I have some “troubles” with some noises, like I might be hypersensitive or something and sounds tend to tire me a lot (at best) or even piss me off. I live in an isolated place where silence is a bless…  It’s funny as we are pretty opposite on that: I think Déha really eats a lot of music and needs it on his ears when he is outside or in any public places filled with noises which is hard for him. It’s as hard for me but I deal with it by confining myself in a lot of calm moments to balance. This doesn’t prevent us to share some good albums listening sessions! But yeah, silence is definitely a source of inspiration in some way, I need to leave space for ideas to grow and fill my brain -not polluted by anything else-

Are there any musical ancestors – voices lost to time or obscure figures – you feel you’re channeling, knowingly or not?
D: Absolutely not. The only thing I channel is the spirit of my lost people. They exist through me, us.
M: It’s cool that you use the term “channeling” because I really experience inspiration as a form of magical reception, it’s as if I start to create in spite of myself because I receive ideas that I channel, as long as I am in the right state of mind, open and ready. But I couldn’t put any names or faces on the channeler… I’m an enjoyer of Jung and all his theories about collective unconscious and would most likely explain it this way, if there was an explanation….

Do you see Alukta as a band, or more as a vessel – for grief, for transformation, for communion with something older than us?
M: We inspire ourselves and share the message of these people. Besides the very Black Metal spirit of all their customs, I enjoyed the fact that, despite a slow but certain modernization, they keep honoring their ancient rites and ways. The percussions, clean voices etc… can be a medium to reach a state of trance or meditation and if it can help some people enter their subconscious that’s a great thing!

Is this music for the living or the dead? Or maybe for those stuck somewhere in between?
D: Why would it be only for one? All of them.

Would you ever perform Merok live, and if so, would it feel more like a concert or a ceremony?
D: I never appreciated the term «act», «performance» or «ritual» when it comes to concert. In my opinion, once again it’s all about feelings. You can have the biggest decorum in the whole world, wearing whatever masks or cloaks: if your soul is right, your soul is right.
I don’t know about performing Merok, since we’re secluded people and we love it. I can do a concert or two for my other bands yes, but this is not the same. I’m not again, neither up for it. The music itself is more important. We’ll see in the future.

If this album were played at your own funeral, what would you want the mourners to feel? Fear? Peace? Release?
D: Joy, happiness, release, victory, love, solemnity, light bearers.

M: Honestly, the same thing, I hope they would feel listening to the album in their house or car or whatever…. Emotions. Whatever ones, as far as I can share Emotions.

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