Interview: Fórn
This mini profile originally ran in September 2024 edition of Stereogum’s The Black Market.
“Pact Of Forgetting,” the opener of Fórn’s third full-length, Repercussions Of The Self, is about how the past is always present. Fittingly, the themes it introduces reverberate throughout the rest of the record.
“Musically speaking, I think our first single, ‘Pact Of Forgetting,’ does a really lovely job of introducing this kind of theme and explaining why it’s the opening track on the record,” guitarist Joey Gonzalez writes in an email. “A simple melodic idea is introduced, and then cascading layers of soaring leads, harsh industrial sounds, and eerie vocals are constantly re-contextualizing every repetition of the main melodic theme with each turn. The song both feels like it never changes and is constantly changing all at the same time until it’s swallowed up by an overwhelming swell of static and feedback. To me, this feels like a perfect encapsulation of the experiences in my life that led to writing this record. At the core of those experiences, I never felt like I was changing, but by the end of it, I certainly didn’t feel the same either. For better or worse, these things shape you, both in the moment and the echoes of those moments felt throughout your life.”
The slo-mo churn of sludge, notably the funeral variant Fórn has spent over a decade formulating, is a good vessel for exploring the nearly imperceptible slow creep of change, that moment-to-moment, second-to-second perpetual tick and tock of time. Unlike occurrences of instant upheaval, what Fórn explores hangs around in the background. It’s the lifetime of experiences, memories, and feelings — the totality of reality that doesn’t feel like much at the time because one is living through it — that act like droplets of water carving a canyon. You’re always you, and then one day, you’re different, sanded down into a shape your younger self wouldn’t recognize. But “Pact of Forgetting” is about another type of change, too, the eternal tug-of-war between the past and the future and the life-shaping narratives one needs to disentangle oneself from to stop repeating the same mistakes.
“The opening lyrics of the song also really set the board thematically for the record,” Gonzalez explains. “‘Through the fog, figures form. There are hands to guide, someone to show the way. Life is a story you tell yourself, honey is sweeter than wine.'” The lyrics here really punctuate the idea that when we are blind and navigating unfamiliar areas of turbulence in our lives, all we really have to guide us are the shadows of our past selves. Each of those shadows points us in directions that can reflect whether we have been kind to ourselves or if we chose to lose ourselves in our own created delusions. Ultimately, the path to treating ourselves with more kindness and forgiveness is always going to be wrought with pain and accountability if we want to grow, and meaningful growth means forgetting your delusions and stepping into the unknown.”
Fórn stepped into the unknown on Repercussions Of The Self. While sludge and doom are still the bones of the band’s skeleton, many other styles and timbres have become the new flesh. There’s the mechanized crunch of industrial’s interlocking gears, the shimmering quiet/loud swells of the post-everything’s heart-sleeved reveries, and even the crepuscular ambiance of trip-hop’s darker side. And along with the new components come new members. Plus guests, Fórn RSVPed for eight people on the album, including Andrew Nault on live drums and electronics and ILSA’s Orion Peter on guest vocals. That’s a lot of mouths to feed, but unlike some guest-heavy albums that seem more of an excuse to get the gang together, Repercussions Of The Self would feel far emptier without their contributions. That is to say, everyone comes to play, everyone adds their critical contribution. That is especially true of the performance from another new face, Lane Shi Otayonii from Elizabeth Colour Wheel (along with this year’s pretty great Hypnodrone Ensemble album).
“Once we had the instrumental tracks done I had been in talks with Lane about collaborating on one song,” Gonzalez said in Repercussions Of The Self’s PR copy. “What she sent back was, as always, immaculate and breathtaking, which was no surprise having worked with her before. From this bloomed a conversation of her joining Fórn as a member, to which she agreed. It’s been tough keeping that a secret but relieving to be able to reveal that to the world now.”
“Soul Shadow,” Repercussions Of The Self’s second song, reveals that new side of Fórn the best. Easily eclipsing 10 minutes, “Soul Shadow”’s length offers plenty of film in the cannister to set the scene. However, Fórn wastes no time getting down to it. Guitarists Gonzalez and Danny Boyd have a sturdy riff at the ready that’s additionally strengthened by the excellent rhythm section of bassist Brian Barbaruolo and drummer Josh Brettell, both of whom put in some real work across Repercussions Of The Self to maintain an engaging, dynamic quality. Singer Chris Pinto lets loose that bone-rattling yet emotionally resonant roar that has so characterized Fórn’s past works, like on the still-excellent Rites of Despair. So far, so Fórn.
Then Fórn begins to diversify. The doom drops away for a hushed section of richly textured quietude, with Otayonii’s vocals wafting above an arpeggio and multiple-tone drone. When the sludge crush kicks back in, Pinto, Otayonii, and a guitar lead become locked in this death-defying trio of dueling emotions, the aural analog to a restless psyche. Fórn stretches out and then rubberbands back, collapsing everything together for a recapitulating chug. But this chug is different. It’s subtle, but it has changed and is all the more powerful because of what we just experienced. Like life, it’s a false crescendo, though. Fórn returns with a gut-spilling ending that feels so real, that I’m hit with the horripilation or relatability every time I hear it.
That’s the other thing. I can’t ignore that my past shapes my reaction to Repercussions of the Self. I’ve seen Fórn live twice this summer, and both concerts were among the best I’ve seen this year. The one I’ll remember forever took place within a sweltering, no-AC-having pizza place. Let me tell you, a pie parlor sauna is a true test of one’s endurance, especially when additionally complicated by the hallucinatory effects of extreme body odor in an unventilated space. But when Fórn took the stage, all of that went away. The performance was, and I don’t use this word lightly, mesmerizing, with each member’s impassioned performance elevating the connectivity of each element. There was no wall between audience and performer. It was you and Fórn, a singular organism. And when Otayonii walked into the crowd, screaming right in front of me as the deep bass buzz of doom riffs shook me to my soul, I was there in the moment. There was no past. There was no future. I was right there. I was present. And there was nowhere else I wanted to be. It’s strange to think that fleeting moment, of shedding the armor of my insecurities and being so vulnerable and open and there, is something that will influence how I’ll always hear “Soul Shadow” going forward. But, hey, the past is always present, right?