Johannes Eckerström: "I'd Rather Fail Doing Something I Love Than Succeed at Something I Never Wanted to Do”.
Interview by Paul Marshall
Johannes Eckerström has always been an intriguing figure. Face paint, a wicked grin and the air of a ringmaster about to unleash chaos might lead the uninitiated to assume Avatar's theatricality is all smoke and mirrors. Spend some time talking with him, however, and you quickly discover something entirely different. Behind the macabre imagery and carnival spectacle is an articulate philosopher, lifelong student of music and fiercely independent artist whose passion for creativity burns just as brightly as the inferno his band unleashes on stage.
With the release of their last album, Don't Go In The Forest, and the incendiary new single "Crying Fire", Swedish metal visionaries Avatar are set to return to Australia while finally making their long-awaited debut on New Zealand soil. Ahead of the tour, I caught up with charismatic frontman Johannes Eckerström for a conversation that quickly became far more than a routine promotional interview. Instead, it evolved into a fascinating exploration of artistic evolution, fearless songwriting, world-building mythology and the relentless pursuit of originality.
It became immediately apparent that Avatar were never interested in simply writing another collection of heavy metal songs.
When I suggested that Don't Go In The Forest feels more like stepping into an entirely different world than listening to an album, Eckerström smiled knowingly. He explained that the transformation began around Black Waltz, the band's fourth record.
"I think our stuff started to feel like that around the time we made Black Waltz," he reflects. "Some albums do more of that than others, but every one of them kept adding another piece to the bigger picture of Avatar."
His answer reveals much about both the man and the band. Long before Avatar became one of metal's most visually distinctive acts, a young Johannes was immersing himself in European power metal, fantasy literature and worlds far removed from reality. Those early influences didn't simply inspire songs, they encouraged complete universes.
It's a fascinating insight because, listening to Avatar today, the music rarely exists in isolation. Every album feels like another chapter in an ever-expanding mythology.
Curious where that mythology truly began, I asked whether there had been one defining song that unlocked everything.
His answer was disarmingly honest.
Like countless teenage bands, Avatar began playing Iron Maiden and Slayer covers before entering a hometown band competition that required original material.
"The first song sucked," he laughs. "Then we wrote another one that sucked... maybe a third one that sucked."
Then came War Song.
"That was the first song that didn't suck."
It's refreshing hearing someone whose career now spans more than two decades speak so openly about failure. Rather than romanticising those early years, Eckerström embraces them. Great bands, he suggests, aren't born fully formed, they’re forged through persistence, embarrassment and refusing to quit.
That philosophy seems woven through Avatar's entire career.
Few modern metal bands possess such an instantly recognisable identity. Within seconds, listeners know they're hearing Avatar.
When I complimented him on achieving something so rare and asked how they continue evolving without losing themselves, his response may well encapsulate the band's entire creative philosophy.
"I don't worry about identity."
Instead, he worries about curiosity.
He laughs at the suggestion they could deliberately imitate another band.
"We're not talented enough to try to sound like anyone else but us."
It's classic Eckerström, self-deprecating on the surface but quietly profound underneath.
He speaks passionately about growing up obsessed with The Beatles and Queen, bands that constantly reinvented themselves while remaining unmistakably themselves. Avatar aim for the same freedom.
"I'd rather fail doing something I want to do than succeed doing something I never wanted to do."
It's perhaps the defining quote of our conversation.
In an era where algorithms increasingly influence music and trends come and go overnight, Avatar continue choosing artistic risk over commercial safety.
That decision has paid remarkable dividends.
The band's theatrical performances often dominate headlines, yet speaking with Johannes reminds you just how much discipline lies beneath the face paint.
When I asked about songwriting and whether record labels ever applied pressure, he surprised me again.
"We are our own record label now," he says.
Then, with perfect comic timing:
"Which actually means more pressure from the label than before."
The reality is clear. Independence brings freedom, yet also complete responsibility.
His relationship with music stretches back almost as far as memory itself. Piano lessons at five years old. Choir. Trombone. Early MIDI sequencing software painstakingly converting ideas into notation.
Listening to him describe those formative years, it's obvious music was never simply a career choice. It was a language he'd been speaking since childhood.
That lifelong curiosity still fuels Avatar today.
I was interested to hear whether audiences had changed following the pandemic, a question many touring musicians answer cautiously.
Johannes instead focused on gratitude.
Avatar emerged from COVID not diminished but stronger than ever.
They were among the first European bands back touring North America, and those initial concerts left an emotional mark.
"The first show choked us up."
Five years later, he says, the challenge isn't rebuilding audiences, it’s remembering not to take them for granted.
"It's not super easy because whatever you do often enough eventually starts to feel normal."
It's a quietly powerful observation.
Success, he suggests, isn't dangerous because it breeds complacency. It's dangerous because it can make extraordinary experiences feel ordinary.
Then came perhaps the most exciting subject of all.
Avatar are finally coming to New Zealand.
For a band that has conquered Europe and North America, somehow this remains unexplored territory.
Rather than viewing it as another date on an extensive tour, Eckerström sees Auckland as something far more significant.
"A first show somewhere is the hardest."
Every performance, he says, is effectively another audition.
Established markets offer familiarity. New Zealand offers opportunity.
"You'll see a band that's been doing this for a very long time behave like a bunch of nineteen-year-olds again."
His eyes light up describing the challenge.
Avatar intend to earn every single fan.
Then comes the line that perfectly encapsulates Johannes Eckerström's wonderfully eccentric personality.
"There will probably be rumours I'm on drugs..."
He pauses.
"...which I'm not."
It's delivered with impeccable timing.
After spending time in his company, you realise Avatar's greatest trick isn't the face paint, elaborate costumes or theatrical staging.
Their real sleight of hand is making audiences believe the chaos is spontaneous, when in reality it's driven by remarkable intellect, precision, and purpose.
Johannes Eckerström is thoughtful without pretension, humorous without trying too hard and deeply passionate about artistic integrity. Every answer came from someone who genuinely loves creating music, not someone simply promoting another album or tour.
As Avatar prepare to bring their theatrical metal spectacle to this side of the world and finally make their long-awaited New Zealand debut, one thing is abundantly clear.
This isn't a band chasing trends.
They're continuing to build a world entirely of their own, and after speaking with Johannes Eckerström, it's difficult not to want to step inside it.
Catch the Swedish metal titans Avatar live for one night only at The Powerstation, Auckland, on Tuesday, 1 September 2026. Don't miss your chance to experience one of metal's most theatrical and electrifying live acts. Get your tickets here: https://www.powerstation.net.nz/shows/avatar-sep-2026