Primordial Black channels the raw spirit of Tunisia’s underground into blackened death metal rituals—unfolding darkness, resistance, and cosmic horror in a sonic descent that’s as personal as it is transcendent.
1. Primordial
Black emerges from the creative depths of Tunisia. Can you tell us how the
local scene influenced your development and sound as a blackened death metal
band?
Primordial
Black emerged in Tunisia, where the metal scene has always been underground,
raw, and deeply passionate.
Growing up in this environment shaped both our resilience and our sound. We
were surrounded by cultural tension, political uncertainty, and spiritual
duality. Those are elements that naturally fed into the themes we explore in
our music: darkness, identity, resistance, and transcendence.
The
Tunisian scene taught us to value authenticity over trends. We had to build
everything from scratch, our sound, our audience, our spaces to rehearse or
perform. There were no shortcuts, and that forged a kind of sonic brutality and
spiritual sincerity that defines our music today.
2. Your
debut EP Monas Hieroglyphica was described as an “uncompromising
plunge into the abyss.” What themes or messages were you aiming to convey with
that release?
Monas
Hieroglyphica was
our attempt to channel chaos into ritual. The EP explores themes of spiritual
disintegration, the ineluctable passage of time and the death of everything we
once cherish. It’s a descent, not just into darkness for its own sake, but to
confront what lies beneath the surface of the self.
We wanted the music to feel like an invocation, where every riff, scream, and
silence pulls you deeper into that abyss.
3. With Dark
Matter Manifesto, you call the album an “invocation” and a “declaration of war
against the darkness that surrounds us.” What inspired this manifesto, and what
does it mean to you personally?
Dark
Matter Manifesto was
born from a sense of urgency, a need to resist the numbness, fear, and
spiritual decay we see around us.
It’s both a call to arms and a ritual of awakening. The “darkness” isn’t just
external; it’s also internal. Apathy, doubt, the loss of meaning.
This album is our way of confronting that, of turning despair into fire.
Personally, it’s the most honest thing we’ve created. During the making of this album, my soul endured a silent torment born from personal struggles. Every track is a wound, a weapon, and a prayer. It’s about reclaiming power through sound, through intention, and refusing to be silent in the face of entropy.
4. There’s
a cosmic and existential horror underlying your music—touching on mortality,
madness, and the void. How do you translate these abstract fears into sonic
form?
We approach
those themes, not as concepts, but as lived experiences. Translating them into
sound means stripping everything down to raw emotion and tension. Dissonant
chords, unpredictable structures, layers that collapse into chaos, all of it
mirrors the feeling of staring into something vast and unknowable, like facing
an Eldritch abomination.
We use
metaphoric devices, especially in lyrics: oppressive heaviness followed by
eerie silence, or melodic fragments buried under noise. That’s how we evoke
dread, not just through aggression, but through atmosphere and unease.
It’s less about telling a story and more about summoning a presence, something
that lingers long after the song ends.
Both
collaborations came from a place of deep respect. Sakis Tolis has
been a major influence on us, so reaching out felt natural once the vision
for Dark Matter Manifesto took shape. Our label Darkside
Records helped us securing him on the album long before we even start
recording. He immediately understood the spiritual weight of the track we
invited him on. His voice brought a sacred, commanding presence that elevated
everything.
Maxime
Taccardi was
drawn to the same darkness we explore, his art is visceral, ritualistic, and
deeply personal. His contribution added another layer of intensity and visual
storytelling that mirrored the music’s emotional core.
Each artist
brought their own fire into our world, and the album is stronger, more haunted,
because of it. We are honored to have two artists of such caliber on our debut
album; their belief in us, shown by lending their names alongside ours, is the
greatest validation we could have hoped for.
6. There’s
a strong philosophical and almost ritualistic language in your description of
the album. Does spirituality or mysticism play a role in your creative process?
Spirituality
and mysticism are at the core of everything we create. For us, making music
isn’t just artistic expression, it’s a form of ritual, a way to reach beyond
the material and confront the unknown. We draw from esoteric traditions,
philosophy, and metaphysical texts, not to imitate, but to awaken something
dormant within ourselves and the listener.
Each song
begins as an inner question, a wound, or a vision. The writing process becomes
a kind of invocation, where sound, silence, and intention merge.
We’re not interested in surface-level aggression, we want the music to open
doors, to disturb, to transform.
That’s where the real power lies.
7. The
guitar work between Yasser and Walid is both glacial and lethal. How do you two
approach composing and complementing each other’s styles in the studio?
Our dynamic
is built on contrast and tension. Walid brings a colder, more calculated
precision, sharp, surgical leads that carve space with intent. I (on other
hand) lean toward the chaotic, emotional side dissonance, layering, and
textures that bleed.
In the studio, we don’t try to blend those instincts; we let them clash and
react.
I usually
start the songs with a core idea, sometimes a riff, sometimes a full fledged
demo and we build around it like sculpting something ritualistic.
There’s a constant back-and-forth, challenging each other, stripping things
down, then pushing them into new territory.
That friction is what gives the guitar work its edge.
It’s not about harmony, it’s about communion through conflict.
8. Your
music feels like a carefully sculpted chaos. How do you balance technical
precision with raw emotional intensity during production?
Our process
is a dance between method and madness. In the studio, we meticulously craft
every riff and layer, fine-tuning precision and structure, while also leaving
space for raw, unfiltered emotion to surge through the recordings.
It’s about harnessing disciplined technique as the framework, then unleashing
the chaos that embodies the spirit of our sound.
This duality is what shapes our music into its uniquely sculpted chaos.
9. You’ve
already garnered impressive international attention. What has the response been
like from fans and critics outside Tunisia, and has it surprised you?
The
response has been overwhelming, in the best way. We didn’t expect such a deep
resonance from listeners outside Tunisia. But it’s been powerful to see people
connect with the intensity, the themes and the emotions of our music regardless
of language or origin.
What
surprised us most is how many listeners described the music as something
they felt more than understood. That’s exactly what we aim
for: to bypass the intellect and hit something deeper. It’s a reminder that
this kind of expression is universal, even when it’s born in isolation.
10. Now
that Dark Matter Manifesto has been unleashed, what lies ahead for
Primordial Black? Will we see live performances, new material, or further
explorations into the unknown?
With Dark
Matter Manifesto behind us, we’re ready to push even further into the unknown.
Live performances are definitely on the horizon. We want to translate that
intense, ritualistic energy to the stage and connect directly with the
audience.
At the same
time, new material is already taking shape. We’re exploring darker, more
experimental territories, blending sonic brutality with deeper spiritual and
cosmic themes.
For
Primordial Black, the journey is never finished, it’s an ongoing descent and
awakening.
The abyss
calls, and we intend to answer.
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