DRASTUS
There are many aspects to your work, but if I were asked to give an elevator pitch to describe it, I would likely say that DRASTUS’s music is insanely oppressive, as claustrophobic as possible. The way you sometimes structure your riffs – very repetitive, haunting, in a kind of psychotic and accelerated Nietzschean eternal return, playing with nuances in the half-tones, cyclical and labyrinthine – seems to trap the listener to suffocate them… It also strikes me as a potent musical manifestation of Rudolf Otto’s mysterium tremendum…
Jonathan – Yes, absolutely, Drastus is a grand constriction, a numinous vision. The manifestation of adversarial forces emerging from the fiery maw of darkness and seeping through every pore of the world. A voracious will that relentlessly collides with the matter of the world, like a Titanomachy in action. A journey into the unexplored depths of the human psyche, the howls of shadow… This is what I strive to depict with my music. The oppression stems from all of this, from this eschatological and simultaneously ‘accusatory’ aspect.
On the guitar, I try to illustrate this by maintaining a constant tension and sometimes layering opposing lines or keeping a hypnotic riff running throughout the track. This creates a sort of tunnel into which the entire piece plunges, taking the listener along with it.
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La Croix de Sang, the album released on NoEvDia in 2019, with the exception of the song Hermetic Silence, is largely devoid of ambient parts, ambient meant in the broad sense of the term.
However, these elements were quite prominent in your first album, Roars From The Old Serpent’s Paradise (2005), the MLP Taphos (2006) that followed, and up to the Serpent’s Chalice MLP, which marked the beginning of our collaboration in 2009.
BURZUM-like arpeggios, guitar or keyboard drones, sometimes the rhythm section disappears giving way to pure atmosphere, almost industrial soundscapes, a wealth of distortion… all of this is part of DRASTUS. Where did this inclination in your writing come from? And more importantly, what is its purpose when placed within the conceptual framework of DRASTUS?
Jonathan – I like to give the work a sense of unity, for it to form a single, continuous flow of magma. The ambient parts allow me to achieve this unification and, moreover, to tap into deeper, more intimate layers- something more mystical, more subtle. This brings the entire work into a defined realm. For example, on Serpent’s Chalice, the beginning casts a spell over the rest of the album.
As for where this comes from, it’s primarily a personal inclination, and listening to dark industrial projects like MZ 412, MEGAPTERA, LUSTMORD, or IN SLAUGHTER NATIVES at the time certainly inspired me. However, aside from a sample at the beginning of Taphos and some synth on Roars… all the ambient or industrial parts are created with the guitar. For the next album, I plan to return to these kinds of atmospheres.
In contrast to that observation, you’ve told me a couple of times that the foundation of your guitar playing comes from things that may seem quite obvious, like old SLAYER and MORBID ANGEL. I imagine we need to place the albums of these bands in the historical moment when you discovered them – when they were true pioneers and references in terms of aggressiveness and darkness…
Jonathan – The impact this kind of music can have on a young mind is powerful; it opens up unsuspected perspectives and resonates with certain shades of the soul that the world conceals or refuses to acknowledge. As C.G. Jung said about Christ, he doesn’t encompass all the colors of the soul.
Listening to these bands obviously influenced me. On a new track, for example, there’s a riff that reminds me of old AUTOPSY, even though I haven’t listened to them in 20 years. What you listen to influences you in some way, consciously or not.
As for SLAYER, I think it’s the aura of their music – the sheer aggression – that had a significant impact on my playing and the sound I wanted to create. But I’ve never approached the guitar the way those musicians did; my approach is very “Black Metal.” The instrument is just a tool to achieve what I want to convey or express- nothing more. Honestly, my music isn’t very enjoyable to play. Personal pleasure doesn’t come into the equation.
If I were to identify, in hindsight, strong influences on DRASTUS’ universe, I would say projects like the first DIABOLICAL MASQUERADE played a role. That ultra-misanthropic aspect, the inner madness, a whole world inside that guy’s head – in his “castle,” in his “forest” – felt familiar. It was the kind of thing I wanted to create. Something like ARCKANUM, the atmospheres on Opus IV by ABIGOR, the aggression of Channeling… or Apocalypse, the freedom of 666 International and all of DHG in general, MAYHEM of course, and others… All of this undeniably impacted my music.
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This is a somewhat tenuous association of ideas, I admit, but since your sensitivity to the notion of instrumental texture is evident in your work, I was wondering if you had ever listened to Symphony No. 6 (Devil Choirs At The Gates Of Heaven) by Glenn Branca, a piece written for ten guitars in 1989…? Without necessarily being a big fan of the parts that may remind of alternative rock, there’s moments of great tension on that record, and the aforementioned textures created by the copious amount of strings playing simultaneously are incredible.
Jonathan : No, I wasn’t familiar with Glenn Branca, let alone his Symphony No. 6. But after listening to it, I completely understand the comparison you’re making.
This repetition of guitar lines, with some gradually digressing to create a ‘deviation,’ a malignant outgrowth, only to plunge back in as if reabsorbed into its ‘primordial chaos’- I feel very connected to that approach. I’ll be exploring his work in greater detail.
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La Croix de Sang, your 2019 album, seems to me to be the hardest, most hostile, most relentless work you’ve ever created from a strictly musical point of view. Musicians as talented as Jamie Saint Merat from ULCERATE have expressed their admiration for this record.
What was the driving force that inhabited you when you wrote it? In a sense, it’s seems like everything unnecessary had been stripped away, pulling the breath of malevolence one step closer to the listener, right to his face…
Jonathan – DRASTUS literally means ‘destroyer’ in Breton. It wasn’t that I was specifically looking for a band name in that language, but I was searching for an aesthetic, and more or less subconsciously, a word that represented the archetype of fire- destructive, transformative, sacrificial- or the power of the destructive angel, Malak el’Maut. The meaning was obvious; it was the idea: to destroy all that is superfluous, start from scratch, return to the ‘bare bone,’ close one’s eyes to see, in other words. The name perfectly encapsulated the essence of what I wanted to create: this grand ‘dissolution,’ both in my life and in my music, aiming for ‘total art.’
This destructive process plays a fundamental role in the composition and was indeed taken to another level with La Croix de Sang – nothing extraneous remains. While I can compose different things, more ‘solar,’ lighter pieces, for DRASTUS, I almost always gravitate toward depths where no rays of light can penetrate. That’s why the listener feels gripped by the throat, suffocated, and the hold doesn’t loosen until it’s too late.
We once had a conversation where we discussed your past use of certain hard drugs. You contextualized that use by saying that, in our part of the world – the West – too sanitized, devitalized, castrated, non-transcendent and largely devoid of wars at that time, one could be tempted to create their own battles. You explained that the challenge of facing addiction, living with it, and eventually overcoming it, was something you had to go through. At that moment, it seemed inevitable. Are my recollections correct? Looking back, knowing what you went through, including the legal consequences of living on the wrong side of the law, and so on… would you do it again?
Jonathan – I never look back thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ It doesn’t make sense. Everything that happens to you in life is simply the sum of your choices. Even though drugs are a waste of time and energy, the modern world already overstimulates our senses enough without us needing to add to it. But yes, that’s more or less it. Someone once told me it was impossible to get off heroin, so I dove in headfirst to see for myself. I wanted to test whether my ‘beliefs,’ my philosophy, held up when faced with true inner challenges. Did I really know myself that well? I didn’t care about doing things like skydiving or running a marathon- I wanted to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, where the solution wouldn’t simply be physical but primarily psychological and mental. I didn’t want it all to just be a costume for weekend concerts with friends- playing the villain, shouting ‘Satan’ on stage, and going back to a submissive job on Monday.
Nowadays, people view art only as a hobby. You hear the word ‘sacrifice’ thrown around a lot, yet you never see a drop of blood outside the stage.
For me, that whole period was a mystical experience. I felt I had to cross the Abyss, burn under the Dragon’s breath, and sharpen my vision in the darkness. Life’s trials are what give you depth, unlike comfort and contentment, which make you soft, weak, and foolish. Evil gives existence meaning and flavor.
It also allowed me to see that people who outwardly seem perfectly respectable by societal standards- overflowing with good intentions, allegedly ready to lay down their lives for some hollow cause- can turn into the worst scum. They’ll steal from their grandmothers for a few coins or betray their so-called best friends to pay for their next fix. That vision amused me greatly. These people have no real depth or grounding; they’re just posturing to align with social conventions. Their ‘thoughts’ are no more than a Potemkin village- one gust of wind, and it all disappears. Pathetic, with a capital ‘P.’
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The song Ashura, on La Croix de Sang, could be seen as an echo of that era, or am I mistaken?
Jonathan – That’s quite possible; the studio engineer told me it couldn’t have been composed in a ‘normal’ state. He wasn’t mixing metal anymore at the time, and the mix completely drained him. But I don’t think drugs had much to do with it in the end – it’s just DRASTUS.
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Incidentally, how much of this experience found its way into your art? From a broader perspective, I wonder how much of DRASTUS is driven by intellect and study, and how much by instinct and experience?
Jonathan – That period of life undeniably had a concrete impact on my music. In my view, this is reflected in a certain honesty in the composition as well as in the depth of darkness it captures. That was the goal, after all- to seek substance. All of it is as much about experience as it is about intellect; the two intertwine. DRASTUS is a beast, and the instinctive part is prominent- I think you can hear that. When I compose, I first try to grasp or seize something ‘before thought,’ a force that precedes, an aura. Then, from that initial transmission, that raw stone, I refine and articulate it; this is where intellect, the ‘concrete,’ comes into play. ‘Study,’ so to speak – what I read or do alongside- is in direct relation to the music. It’s both the breath that animates it, sets it in motion, and the dark matter that holds it all together.
The cover for La Croix de Sang is adorned with a latin phrase, Solvet saeclum in favilla, whose meaning is roughly « The world will be dissolved into ashes ». That is undoubtedly true, only the question of timing remains up in the air. Anyway, the cover is courtesy of Spica, know for his involvement with S.V.E.S.T…
Jonathan – That phrase comes from Prose des morts and represents the Deus vindex, the avenging god, and thus the sinner. I’m well aware that it’s not the most original phrase to use in black metal, but it turned out that it had to be there- it came about naturally. In hindsight, the timing of the release feels rather ‘well-placed’ with that phrase on the cover. We were- and still are- at a turning point in our era. A month later came the fire at Notre-Dame – not that I take any joy in that, I want to clarify – among other events that led to the current war in Europe and, of course, the pandemic. It struck me how this coincided with a ‘nexus’ of sorts, aligning with all the NoEvDia releases that year.
As for the cover itself, I had initially sent another drawing to Spica – the sigil for La Croix de Sang – and asked if he could clean it up for the possibility of a visual. But I later changed my mind. In the early 2010s, I felt the scene was overdosed on occult imagery; it was everywhere, consumed ad nauseam. It became as counterproductive as possible and, in my view, completely misaligned. I had sketched the first draft of the final cover in chalk on my table. Some time later, Spica came to visit me, and when he saw the sketch, we ended up having a long conversation, as always. In my draft, the skull was in profile, and the serpent resembled a more hieroglyphic depiction of Apep – flatter, less ‘animated.’ Spica brought depth to it while preserving the original essence and adding his unique touch.
The visuals for DRASTUS are always quite restrained. It’s like the music: I strip away all the superfluous elements. Simple images taken from books, personal photos, or a friend’s drawing- that’s more than enough.
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One of the hallmarks of your musical world, albeit a discreet one, is your use of clean vocals. They appear here and there over the years, and the song Venus Rising, based on A Saucerful of Secrets by PINK FLOYD, is a strong example of this aspect of your abilities. This song was released as part of the compilation The Sinister Numinous.
To me, it’s clear that there is unexplored artistic potential on your part. On one hand, you seem drawn to – or at least intrigued by – such possibilities. On the other hand, you appear cautious about venturing too far from what you’ve done so far, perhaps for good reason. Is there an objective limit to what can or cannot be DRASTUS?
Jonathan – No, I don’t set any limits for myself, but as far as black metal is concerned, I don’t want to overuse clean vocals because they would lose their power. I don’t see the point in doing something just because it’s possible; it has to serve a higher purpose. I appreciate it when the musician steps back and lets the work itself take precedence, rather than tainting the opus with a personal desire to ‘shine.’ That said, DRASTUS could evolve into a free-jazz or ambient project with only clean vocals, and I wouldn’t mind – but do I truly have the potential to do more varied things with my voice? I’m not so sure.
Nevertheless, the clean vocals on Constrictor Torrents, Occisor, or at the beginning of The Crawling Fire, to name a few tracks from La Croix de Sang, are good examples of a certain range I’ve explored. I’ve experimented with other styles in past projects, but it often felt like imitation or parody; I couldn’t find my place. It also depends on the music- I don’t think I can fit ‘everywhere.’ I’m better suited to darkness and the tormented, that’s all. In truth, I have very little control over my voice; the lack of practice means I know it only superficially. I only sing in the studio.
The voice is the most primal of instruments, the most intimate of all, which makes it one of the most fascinating.
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DRASTUS is your work, and yours alone. Most people probably don’t remember Configuration of a Yearned Twilight these days, an album by C.Y.T released back in 2006. You were one of the two guitarists on that record. At the risk of sounding tongue-in-cheek, I’m tempted to ask if the trauma of dealing with a full lineup is what prompted you to go it alone ever since…?
Jonathan – In a way, yes, but only because I eventually wanted to pursue something different than my associate at the time. Those were great years, very formative – playing black metal on an acoustic guitar in a Jehovah’s Witness apartment with your buddy screaming like hell makes for some unforgettable memories. The neighbors must have loved us… That was the era of Cythrawl, which later became C.Y.T.. These projects were mainly duos, then trios with the addition of a vocalist during the album period. Joris is a very talented drummer with a distinct identity. We understood each other very well, and even 20 years later, I’m sure it would only take a few seconds for us to find our groove again. But I always wanted to go toward something darker, more violent, more ‘total.’ That wasn’t his interest, so we parted ways.
It’s certain that I prefer working alone anyway. The joy of music, for me, is precisely not having to communicate verbally, not having to explain myself. In any case, as far as pure composition is concerned, music must be born before thought, before ‘realization,’ in my opinion. That initial inspiration usually only occurs on an individual level.
Even though I don’t envision myself in a band, I fully understand the appeal of collaboration between musicians to amplify potential. If it’s to create something like 666 International, then it’s absolutely worth it. But if it’s just to dilute the original intent ‘democratically,’ to accommodate everyone’s wishes out of ‘courtesy,’ then it will only produce something shapeless, weak, and lifeless – in short, garbage. That’s how democracy works, after all, and we see the results. If your work ends up being nothing more than the sum of your compromises, there’s no point in setting it in motion in the first place.