Thunder on the horizon. The ground is always aflame beneath us. A few days after Ride the Wilderness was born into the world, we gathered in a barn in the Swedish woods. Here the beginning and the end of what would become the next chapter for Demon Head was set in motion. We travelled near and far, south and north, meeting friends and foes along the wicked road. All the while, new songs and stories took shape, haunting our dreams... In the first, hard winter months of 2016, we once again found ourselves in a small wooden house near the infamous Heather Hills. Though sometimes down on luck, we had managed to get our hands on some very fine, old equipment to summon loud, wild sounds onto. These electric devices and our trusted tape machine became extensions of our bodies and senses in the many next days and long nights. First we were in a circle, playing our songs at we would at our lair or out among strangers. Later, nights were spent beating out overdriven leads and slide guitar melodies; we were sucked into a dark dream of pianos, pump organs, and synthesizers. We became one with trusted, old acoustic guitars, sang and screamed tales of a still harsher world. And one rowdy night, it came to a rhythm-trance as humans have done for millennia. Hours were dedicated to a ritual where fires were burned and chanting merged with acoustic guitars, church bells, and stones from the cold ground. Lightning in our minds and frost in our lungs, not the time to sleep or rest. We had a great time, living and acting as a commune far from the city lights...
