Few artists have remained as uncompromising as Kim Carlsson. When we caught up with him, Hypothermia was in the midst of preparing what would later become the band’s latest release. 

You’ve been preparing for new Hypothermia recordings – how has that process been for you so far?

It’s going very well. We’re borrowing an old mill where they used to mill grains, and now it’s used for art exhibitions in the summer. It’s going to be three songs inspired by the surrounding areas where I live, which is a big mountain.

Have these compositions been growing for a while, or did they come together naturally just now?

They are from 1.5 years ago. I was wandering on this mountain, and along its paths there are several signs that tell a story about the mountain, the origin of its name, and what some areas used to be used for thousands of years ago, in the Viking Age. Around here, about 70% of all relics from that time are in the district where I live. So there are a lot of burial sites and ruins.

Does Hypothermia’s new work feel like a continuation of past paths, or the start of something entirely new?

It’s definitely a return. We will show a lot of our roots, and I’m using some very good musicians in the band now. It took me several years to find a new drummer. I’m also joined by a great bassist, Alex (Phil A. Cirone), and a great guitarist, Fredric Graby. It’s going to be an amazing experience both in recording and in sharing it live. We plan to finish everything in December, so it will be released in March or April.

Do you feel your relationship with Hypothermia has changed over the years? What does it represent for you at this point?

It has definitely grown into a more spiritual and psychedelic vision than in the beginning. Originally, it was more connected to meditation, which it still is, but the meditations have evolved from just wandering in nature to a deeper spiritual practice connected to everything I do.

Do you see recording as a reflection of where you are now, or a step toward where you want to go next?

That’s a very nice way to say it, because it’s a combination of both. It’s like having one foot connected to your roots and the past, not dwelling on it, but using it as a stepping stone to go deeper and evolve further. By doing that, you’re finding your path to the next step in the future.

Do you try to hold on to the initial feelings, or let them change as the sound evolves?

I had to practice and learn over time that I shouldn’t be too stuck on the original idea or concept from the first time I had it, because naturally it has to evolve and adapt to not just me but also the other people I perform it with. That’s why I like to record all the music – the guitars, bass, and drums are recorded live in one take. Nothing is added to the guitars afterward, but then we add the vocals, violin, and cello. That’s the most optimal way of doing it.

One take – because you dislike things being too perfect?

To some extent. It’s also about embracing chaos and letting the song become what it wants. If you add too many layers and do retakes, it will sound too much like my other bands. That’s what gives Hypothermia its own identity. The roots and main performance are always live, which gives it rawness and honesty.

Would you say that you’re most productive in isolation?

Yes, which is why I tend to lose a lot of friends. When I need to focus on Hypothermia, it has number one priority. 

I won’t look at my phone, computer,  or emails – anything that distracts me from the vision. If someone interferes with Hypothermia, which is my main priority, they are gone.

If something feels wrong but true, would you follow it?

I would explore it personally, because sometimes something wrong can lead to interesting experiences you learn from. But it’s the same as nostalgia – nothing I would advise anyone to incorporate into their lifestyle, because it can be dangerous. Done occasionally, it can make you stronger and deepen your understanding of yourself in this world.

Do all your projects – Hypothermia, Kall, RitualMord – share the same inner core, or do they represent different sides of you?

They are very different aspects. It’s the same with my project Consider Suicide. Even if some ideas are similar, collaborating or working alone allows me to show different versions of what could otherwise be another Hypothermia song. It’s like comparing painting with one color versus several – a broader, deeper experience, which I think is fairer to the audience.

You say black metal is a way of life rather than a genre. What does that mean today?

It’s about not compromising while staying open to possibilities. Never exchanging your views for something else, even if it hurts, isolates you, or causes discomfort. It’s about embracing emptiness and letting chaos in. If you try to avoid it, it will hurt more. If you let it guide you, it takes you where you need to go. You never get what you want, but you get what you deserve.

What does timelessness mean to you?

To me, timelessness is both nature and classical music – things that last beyond one person’s lifetime. I consider black metal on the same level as classical music. What I do is a continuation of what composers like Mozart and Chopin did. I use different instruments, but what I hear in my head before touching the guitar is the same as they heard. What they did is eternal and timeless. That’s my goal as well. I don’t give a fuck if people think it’s arrogant – it’s the truth.

What remains your personal definition of beauty in art?

The evolving form of emptiness. True emptiness is one of the most beautiful experiences. It’s connected to melancholy, though melancholy is just a mood. Emptiness can be a way of life.

One thing people get wrong about you?

That I’m completely introverted and not kind. Many apologize when talking to me, as if intruding. If I need space, I take it. I don’t need permission to be alone. I don’t mind when people contact me and ask questions, as long as it’s based on the same foundation of kindness and respect I’m willing to give back. I’m very open and friendly. My misanthropy is not counterproductive – I discard only what deserves it and let others prove themselves.

Which song challenges you the most mentally when performing?

It used to be Svenskt vemod, composed in 2005 or 2006. That changed my understanding of how to create a song. Before that, it was Ur Ångest Född, born from anxiety or dread. These songs are very personal, melancholic, and atmospheric. Performing them feels like a part of me breaks, but over time, repetition strengthens you – you add something new into the void, into emptiness.

When you look at everything you’ve built, do you feel peace, or does the search continue?

From my perspective, there’s still so much I haven’t achieved. I have many compositions that I don’t have time for and am still searching for the right place. I’ve only just started. This is the beginning.

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What does silence feel like for you?

Silence is the air that moves between the trees or the moss growing. If you listen carefully, you can hear something there, but it’s not really there. It’s almost like you’re putting it there yourself because you want something to happen, but it’s empty space. Like most things, it doesn’t have inherent value – it has the value that you yourself put onto it. 

Nostalgia – dangerous or necessary?

One doesn’t exclude the other. Even if something is dangerous, it doesn’t mean it’s unnecessary. Everyone has to take risks, and the amount is up to each person. Nostalgia is also a very powerful emotion, but if you let it control you, you won’t really achieve anything. That’s daydreaming – nice as a habit, but it shouldn’t be a way of life.

How do you understand someone shares your feelings when it comes to collaborations?

It’s like when you know that you like someone. When your eyes meet, you just feel it. It’s a shared experience.

It’s a combination of both knowing them as a person and spending time with them and performing music together. That’s a very unique experience to perform instruments with another musician. It’s similar to having a conversation.

Truth or beauty?

It’s very hard. I have a habit of never telling anything but the truth, no matter the consequences. I have to answer truthfully – I have no choice otherwise.

Sound or silence? 

For me, since I hear music in the forest, even if it’s quiet and silent there, there is no such thing as silence. I can’t choose silence – it’s not that easy for me. I hear music in places where other people don’t hear it. 

Least favorite song to perform? 

Ironically, it’s one of my favorite moods: Melankoli. Most people want me to perform it. It’s powerful, and I love performing it, but some nights or days it takes an emotional toll, and I don’t have the energy. I still love the song, but it drains me.

Most favorite song to perform?

One of the new songs, called Myr – a Swedish word for a bog or marsh. I love those places. They have a special atmosphere. 

We’ll perform it in all upcoming live shows, and I look forward to sharing that experience.