Mikael Åkerfeldt is still high.
Just a few days before speaking with Revolver, he and fellow Opeth guitarist Fredrik Åkesson visited the Martin Guitar factory in Nazareth, Pennsylvania. “It was a dream come true,” our man enthuses. “I’ve been playing those guitars since the Nineties, so it was like visiting the Holy Land. Hank Williams’ original guitar from the Forties is there. Kurt Cobain’s guitar is there. Johnny Cash’s guitar is there.”
Martin started in 1833, so many of the guitars in their factory museum are quite old. “I played a guitar from the 1800s,” Åkerfeldt says. “I got scared. They held it up to me and I kept backing away. It’s invaluable, you know? I don’t know what the value in money would be, but it’s an artifact. I get nervous around those kinds of things. But I did play it.”
He played Cobain’s guitar as well. “It was very beat up,” he says. “It didn’t feel that good. There was nothing special about it, other than it had belonged to Kurt. Someone told us that guitar was haunted, like people who had that guitar had accidents. I’m a Nirvana fan, but it was just a regular guitar to me.”
Today, Åkerfeldt is in Atlanta, the latest stop of Opeth’s North American tour with fellow Swedes Tribulation. They’re debuting two songs from their new and 14th album, The Last Will and Testament, both of which feature Åkerfeldt’s long-lost death-metal growl — something not heard on an Opeth record since 2008’s Watershed. Given that most of Opeth’s music since then has been more prog rock than death metal — and all of it with clean vocals — some fans are taken aback.
“I see some people in the crowd, and in my head I’m like, You don’t like the screams, do you?” Åkerfeldt says with a laugh. “Sometimes I look out and there’s some dude with his Yes T-shirt, and he seems to enjoy himself until we do those songs. We can’t win, I think.”
Of course, many Opeth fans had a similar reaction when Åkerfeldt abandoned his death-metal growl after Watershed.
“I feel like there’s gonna be a new fuckin’ debate in our camp of fans about what we should and shouldn’t do,” he says. “At the shows, it’s been a mixed crowd — senior citizens, young kids and everything in between — which is what it’s been for a long time. But maybe the music that we play on this tour is leaning more on the heavy side of things, which may not appeal to some people. But we love it all.”
The Last Will and Testament also happens to be a concept album. Inspired by his love of conceptual classics by King Diamond, Pink Floyd and the Pretty Things, Åkerfeldt found that revisiting the story-driven format that Opeth first employed on their late Nineties milestones My Arms, Your Hearse and Still Life made writing lyrics easier.
“Writing lyrics is a drag to me,” he admits. “If we have 10 songs on an album, after 14 albums it’s difficult to come up with stuff. It makes it easier for me to write something that means something if I have just one story I can stick to. And it’s fun to develop a story over a bunch of songs.”
The theme of The Last Will and Testament is family intrigue. Set in the 1920s, the story revolves around the death of a patriarch and the secrets he reveals to his children after his passing. “The father is a rich, conservative guy,” Åkerfeldt says.
“The story is based around the reading of his last will and testament. His three adult children gather to attend the reading, and then all the lyrics are taken from his testament. He reveals secrets about himself that become revolutionary to his children — things that make them question where they come from. And there’s a twist at the end that turns everything on its head.”
Guest shots from Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull (on narration and flute) and Europe singer Joey Tempest give The Last Will and Testament added star power. Of course, whether fans like it or not is out of Åkerfeldt’s control. Not that he’s sweating it one way or the other.
“I think it goes against my whole nature to try and become popular by pleasing other people,” he says. “When we do please people, it’s based on honesty because we write these songs mainly for ourselves. But people are still coming out to see us. Many of the shows are sold out. After all these years, you’re happy to see people are still interested in you.”
And interested we remain – which is exactly why we invited Åkerfeldt to participate in our superlative Q&A series: The Greatest Interview Ever.
What’s the greatest song you’ve ever written?
MIKAEL ÅKERFELDT I don’t consider any of the songs I’ve written to be particularly great. But if I have to say one that I’m really happy about it, it’s a song that it seems nobody really likes, apart from Steven Wilson, because he mixed the record. On Pale Communion, which is not a super popular record of ours, the last song is a ballad called “Faith in Others,” and I think it’s quite beautiful. It’s not heavy in terms of metal, but it’s heavy in a different way.
What’s the worst song you’ve ever written?
Probably a song called “By the Pain I See in Others,” which is an obscure song on the Deliverance record. I didn’t have a single song when we went in to record that album, so everything was written in the studio.
Basically, I was writing music at night, and we would record it during the day. By the end, of course I was fucked. I was so tired. I got sick after the recording, just completely burnt out. My shit turned gray. I had to go to the doctor and get blood tests. I think that might’ve been the last song I put together for that record, and you can tell.
It’s such a tired song. It’s not good. We played it live a couple of times, and it was surprisingly fun to play live. But it’s not fun to listen to, I think.
What is the song you’re most proud of?
I’d say “§2” from the new album. I love our new album, and I think that song is my favorite from the record. It feels futuristic in a sense, while also being nostalgic at the same time. Plus, I’ve got Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull narrating that song and Joey Tempest from Europe singing. I think it’s gonna be a favorite song of mine for a long time.
What’s the most underrated album in Opeth’s catalog?
I don’t know how our albums are rated in the grand scheme of things, but I still probably think [2011’s] Heritage is underrated. We got so much flak for it, so I figure it’s hated. I know a lot of people now love that record, but it wasn’t popular at the time.
To me, it’s special because I don’t think we could write another record even remotely similar to it if we tried. I remember talking to Erik [Danielsson] from Watain — he doesn’t like Opeth, but he likes that album. A lot of black-metal people like that record for some reason. But many of our fans didn’t understand it or just thought it sucked. So, I think it’s underrated. But many of our records are a bit overrated.
What’s the greatest album that you didn’t like at first?
The only one that comes to mind, because I had such high expectations, is the Porcupine Tree record Stupid Dream. I didn’t know Steven [Wilson] then. I bought it and I didn’t like it at all. It was too poppy. It felt like he wanted to become Thom Yorke. I didn’t consider it progressive. But I forced myself to play it, and now it’s one of my favorite records of theirs.
What’s the craziest gift you have ever received from a fan?
I received dolls of the whole band. This was when we were a four-piece. They were in a custom-made box as well. I don’t get as many gifts anymore be-cause I kind of make myself scarce, but I still have those dolls. I can’t remember who gave those to me or where we were, but it was probably 20 years ago. Another guy tried to give me money. It was in L.A., outside the Rainbow, I think. A guy went down on his knees like I was a deity. He wanted me to sign his forehead, which I did. And then he tried to give me a wad of cash. But I told him I couldn’t accept his money, so it was a gift I never took.
You did the photoshoot for this interview in Times Square. What’s your favorite thing about New York City?
Central Park. The United States is very exotic to Swedish people, and it still is to me even though I’ve been here many times. But New York City never gets old. It’s easy to get around because the streets are numbered. It’s a very walkable city, and there’s shitloads of stuff happening. I always walk down to the pond in Central Park, and it’s always completely quiet there even though you’ve got all this traffic and skyscrapers and people all around. It just makes me feel like a world citizen.
What do you consider to be your greatest success so far?
That we stuck together. That’s the hardest thing. Playing an important gig or making a big record, those things just kind of happen without your control. But staying together for 34 years is something I’m proud of. It’s easy for me to say because I write most of the music and I’m the singer. As long as I’m there, I guess Opeth can still be around.
I tried to do a record under my own name — a soundtrack [for the Netflix series, Clark, directed by Jonas Åkerlund and starring Bill Skarsgård] — and nobody cared. But the band is like fucking McDonald’s. It’s a brand. And I love playing together with these guys. I’m in a luxury position. I’d be stupid to fuck it up.
What’s your biggest regret?
I don’t really have any. I might have made some bad decisions here and there, but I don’t really lose sleep over them. I like to think that I’m a fairly nice guy. I’ve probably stepped on toes and stuff like that, but I’m not a complete asshole. We were talking about what I think my worst song is, and yes, I wish I would’ve made it better. But I don’t really regret it.
What’s the greatest live band you’ve ever seen?
One of them is Heart. I saw them a long time ago, when Mike Inez [of Alice in Chains] was in the band. The band was great, of course, but it was especially Ann Wilson’s vocal.
Another is Magma. When I curated Roadburn, I invited Magma to play, and that show was demonic. We had to go on after them, and it felt like Black Sabbath in 1978 with Van Halen supporting. In terms of age, it was the other way around because Magma is much older than we are. But I was out in the crowd during their set just to see the reactions, and it was literally jaw-dropping. Guys with baseball caps and Electric Wizard T-shirts were standing there with their mouths open.
What’s the most rock-star thing you’ve ever purchased?
Maybe a house? Two houses, actually, but since I got divorced my ex-wife got the first house. But is that rock-star? I’ve got a mortgage, like anyone else. The most expensive guitar I’ve bought was about $3,000, which is high, maybe, but not morbid. And I’ve never bought a drug in my life, apart from alcohol.
What’s the most starstruck you’ve ever been?
I met Agnetha Fältskog from ABBA — the blonde.
We did the Heritage record in the studio where ABBA used to record, and the owners had their flat on top of the studio. They invited us for dinner when the record was done, and Agnetha was there. We all got to sit down with her and have dinner, and she brought this expensive champagne.
I’m a huge fan, so I got to ask her all these questions about their songs. She was super cool. But when she first came up as I was entering the flat, I froze. It’s like seeing Greta Garbo — she just doesn’t appear… After shaking her hand, I went out and had like five cigarettes in a row just to calm myself down. I get starstruck easily, I think.
[And] when we played with Rainbow, I knew of course that Ritchie Blackmore was in the vicinity. I was so nervous that I drank myself to the point where I missed my flight the next day. Because I figured I needed liquid courage if I’m going to say something cool to Ritchie Blackmore. But I never got to meet him.
What’s the most memorable show you’ve ever played?
I don’t remember that many shows. The worst shows are usually when we’re filming or when somebody important is going to show up. And then the day after the important show is a great show. [Laughs]
I know we did one great show in Istanbul. We did two nights, and after one of them I remember turning around to the guys and saying, “That’s how you do a show.” We also played India — in a fucking stadium with shitloads of people. We thought, Do they know who we are? We’ve also played jazz clubs and Mexican restaurants, so we’ve done really small shows as well.
What’s the worst show you ever played?
It was a secret show because nobody knew we were there. It was our previous drummer’s birthday, and we were in a pub with maybe two or three locals. There was a band onstage, and somebody got the brilliant idea that we should go up and play a couple of songs. We were pretty drunk, and we were so bad. It’s embarrassing. I think it’s on YouTube.
What’s your most embarrassing onstage moment?
That drunk show was embarrassing, but I didn’t embarrass myself more than the other guys. [But] I’ve fallen over a couple of times. That’s never good.
We did a show at the Brixton in London, and I decided I was going to jump up on the drum riser. The lights were very bright, and I couldn’t really see, and I didn’t jump high enough. I just fell into the drums, and it hurt. It’s hard to recover from that. A few minutes later, I hear a huge racket. I look over and see Martín [Méndez], our bass player, has also decided to jump on the drum riser and has also fallen into the drums. The same show. Maybe the same song.
Who’s the toughest band you’ve ever opened for?
I’ve never really worried about that because usually we’re so different that it doesn’t matter. I’m very comfortable playing second fiddle. We don’t go on thinking it’s a competition, ever.
That Magma gig I mentioned, going on after them that night felt rough — definitely. But we’ve opened for Dream Theater, we’ve opened for Megadeth, we’ve gone on before Priest, Sabbath, KISS, before Ozzy and Metallica. Of course, you can’t compete with those cats. But I don’t get intimidated by other bands. I have an ego, but not that type of ego.
What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen in the crowd at one of your shows?
I’ve seen the crowd-surfing wheelchairs, but I guess a lot of people have that. You get people dressing up. I saw a guy the other night dressed up as a banana. But the craziest thing I’ve seen at a show was not actually our show. I was in the crowd watching Suicidal Tendencies, and many of their fans are quite buff, as you can imagine. I saw one guy, like a bodybuilder, who got so excited during “You Can’t Bring Me Down” that he just dropped and started doing push-ups. I’d never seen that before.
You’re a record collector. What’s the rarest or coolest record you’ve found in a shop?
On the last tour, we were in a small town outside Washington, D.C., somewhere. I can’t remember what it was called. There was a record shop next to the venue, and they had the private pressing of a psychedelic band from the Sixties called Majic Ship. It’s horrendously rare, and they had it right there in the new arrivals. I’d never seen a physical copy of it. It set me back $500, but I had to have it. It was quite surprising. It’s harder now to find stuff like that.
What’s the greatest record you’re still hunting for?
There’s two, both British. Nick Greenwood is an organ player who put out a heavy prog record in ’72 called Cold Cuts. There’re three different [original] pressings of it, and I’ve never seen a copy.
And then there’s Billy Nicholls, who signed with Andrew Loog Oldham [manager] of the Rolling Stones. He had a label called Immediate Records in the late Sixties into the Seventies. The Billy Nicholls record is called Would You Believe, and it features the Small Faces. It’s a great record — kind of psychedelic, flowery pop with some grit to it. But those two records are quite expensive. I’m probably going to own them at some point, but I’m in no rush.
What is the greatest dream, musical or otherwise, that you have yet to achieve?
That’s a hard question. I don’t really have dreams in that sense. I live a kind of day-to-day life. I guess my dream is that things stay the same in my life. That my girlfriend wants to be with me for the rest of my life. That I’m here for long enough that when I die, it’s OK. And that the band stays together, and we continue doing music.