666 Ways to Love: Prologue

The sound of a band finding its identity in the frozen air of Helsinki. It is a murky, intoxicating blend of Black Sabbath-inspired weight and the yearning of 80s new wave. This is not the polished radio-ready HIM of the 2000s; it is a grittier, more dangerous version of Love Metal that feels like it was recorded in a basement filled with incense smoke and old amplifiers. The centerpiece is undoubtedly the cover of Wicked Game, which strips away the tropical breeze of the original and replaces it with a heavy, melancholic fog. The guitars are thick and fuzzy, providing a stark contrast to Ville Valo’s breathy, baritone delivery. It is this specific tension: the beauty and the beast dynamic played out within a single voice and a single guitar: that makes the EP a foundational text for the genre they would eventually name. Owning or listening to this EP feels like uncovering a hidden blueprint. There is a raw, unedited emotionality here that later studio polish would occasionally smooth over. For those who find comfort in the intersection of heavy distortion and heartbreak, this is an essential artifact. It is a short, sharp shock of romantic gloom that perfectly captures the feeling of being young, obsessed, and slightly doomed in a cold climate.