Even at 10 o’clock on a bright morning in their Denver home city, you can quickly get pulled in by the gravity that swirls around Blood Incantation. Paul gives the impression of a friendly magician who still hasn’t made it home from Woodstock. Isaac, sporting a shirt of British prog legends Yes, that of a cool record store employee.
Paul admits that his conversation can quickly and often go on long diversions. Isaac, meanwhile, is happy to chat in minute detail about music, of any sort, or simply listen as his bandmate, at length, unpacks whatever universe is in front of him.
Example: asked about the roots of the band, Paul explains – via a long story he promises has a point – that they stretch back to a 2009 trip he took to the Yucatán. Here, in the ancient Mayan settlement of Coba he “experienced a metaphysical vision on top of a pyramid”.
From his vantage point above the treeline (and, he says, sober as a judge), Paul watched as the surrounding jungle grew and pulsed in fast-forward, “like something off Planet Earth”.
“I was watching all this stuff coming and going, different civilisations rising and falling, and the sky was this huge mosaic of galaxies and rivers,” he reveals. “It was crazy, dude. It was a profound, transcendental experience. And then, in the sky, I shit you not, man, I saw the face of this old woman I’d never met. I was like, ‘Maybe this is my grandma or something.’ I figured that must be it.”
And that was that. Until Paul got home to Salem, Oregon and went to a lecture by author Michael Pollan at the local community college, only to find the woman from the sky selling books outside.
“Because I’m an insane person, I walked right up to her and I said, ‘Hey, I think we’re supposed to know each other. I think our lives have something to do with each other.’”
Which she might have found freaky, were she not the proprietor of a local bookshop dealing in works of mysticism, spirituality and the occult. Soon, she offered Paul a job. Downstairs in the store were books that added to Paul’s occult library. Upstairs, they offered “psychic fairs, metaphysical workshops, Reiki healing, astral projection”.
The customers were as you’d expect. One, Paul fondly recalls as “one of the strangest people I’ve ever met in my life”. A Cold War defector, pastor and seasoned traveller of India, conversations with him were worth keeping track of.
“He would come in and spout off the most unhinged metaphysical rants possible, and I would record it with this little tape deck behind the counter,” Paul remembers. “Once he found out that I was recording him, he didn’t freak out. He actually brought me hundreds of cassette tapes of the Prabhupada, the guy who started the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. I have literally hundreds of tapes of unreleased lectures of that kind of stuff. I would sample them in bands, or I would just sit and listen to them on mushrooms.”
Anyway, being a groovy sort, Paul’s boss allowed him time off to go on tour with his then-band Velnias, based in Colorado. And the point of this wild story emerges: this is where he met Isaac, playing in funeral doom outfit Stoic Dissention. At the same time, by coincidence the shop went out of business, so Paul upped sticks and moved state to start a band with Isaac. By 2016, with the line-up solidified by Morris and Jeff, and with the release of Starspawn, Blood Incantation were A Thing.
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “That was a lot of story…”
That’s quite the intricate version of Sliding Doors, there.
“There’s a lot of serendipity in the Blood Incantation saga,” he grins. “There’s a lot of auspiciousness, a lot of right place, right time. There’s a lot of once-in-a-lifetime things that just keep happening. I think that it inspires us.”