Reviews

When you think of French music, accordion sounds in a Parisian bistro spring to mind. Perhaps the classic chansons of Edith Piaf, the rock of Johnny Hallyday or the random EDM banter of David Guetta.

But now, away from the international spotlight, a trained shoe saleswoman is making her way into the music Olympus. Flora Fischbach, alias Fishbach, is only 26 years old, but her music sounds as if it has matured over decades. So it's no wonder that the chanteuse made her breakthrough in her home country with ease.

The album À Ta Merci was released in France in January 2017 and won the prize for best independent debut at the «Prix des Indés». The album is now being released in a deluxe version. So it's high time to track down the Fishbach phenomenon.

Divine sounds

Born in Dieppe in Normandy and raised in Charleville-Mézières near the Belgian-French border, Flora Fischbach fell in love with two passions: A love of her parents' records and Rimbaud's poetry.

She dropped out of school at the tender age of 15 and eked out a living with odd jobs. She had already started making her own music at home on her iPad. But a legend was responsible for the initial spark: Patti Smith, also a Rimbaud lover, played at «Chez Rimbaud». It was this performance that set the young Flora Fischbach on her path.

I like to push the boundaries of my voice.

So the budding musician set to work on her first album, in which the surrealist verses of Rimbaud and Patti Smith were to resonate. À Ta Merci—which translates to «at your mercy»—doesn't beg for attention; the album demands it in no uncertain terms. There are twelve songs on this debut album, and the deluxe version that is now being released includes two new tracks and five live recordings of their sold-out show at the Parisian establishment «Le Bataclan».

So much for the bare figures. Surprisingly, the album doesn't start overwhelmingly. Ma voie lactée, driven by a synth hook, seems like a blueprint. The sound holds back while Fishbach's voice takes all the limelight. A piece that breaks down the mystique of her contra-alto voice and her mysterious pop to its essence. «I like to push the boundaries of my voice, the noise of the synths and the noise of the lyrics,» Fishbach said recently.

Then Fishbach does an about-turn: around is what you'd expect. The arrangement overflows with epic fatality in the chorus, forming a counterpoint to the spartan verses. An insane track full of pathos. There's no getting around it: Y crois-tu has something sacred about it, something divine.

Fishbach always seems like a deity—androgynous and eternal. A few weeks ago, she released a video for the song Mortel with footage from concerts and her tour. When she is on stage, she seems caught between worlds, physically present and yet not in the same place as us mortals. Mortel is just as powerful as Y crois-tu and yet sounds completely different: rockier, poppier and more brute.

Dangerous pieces

If you just listen to À Ta Merci, you won't notice it. But the album is anything but uniform. Pop mixes with chanson, hymns with ballads. Eternité drives inexorably forward. Un beau langage, on the other hand, rocks slowly in beautiful sadness. The two tracks that follow each other on the album do not fit together.

Despite these constant contrasts, À Ta Merci would never be described as a patchwork quilt. It is eccentric music - created by and for eccentrics. «Every song is a woman that I could have been, that I could be or that I will be,» says Fishbach. «There is nothing more beautiful than the universality of variété.»

Fishbach's sounds are captivating. The breadth of her sound world leaves room for every taste. And the timelessness of her pieces is fascinating. One could spend hours discussing which songs are the strongest on the album. However, it is undisputed that Fishbach is a paradox: the more pop she mixes into the songs, the better they become. Un autre que moi is one of these examples. Simple in structure, strangely familiar. Or Le châteu and On me dit tu, which mixes the glittering disco era and mysterious synth-pop à la New Order.

Then there are the really dangerous pieces. Feu, for example, sounds like the soundtrack to a gun duel. The church bells ring menacingly—a deep black western. By the time the ride in the sound really gets going, Feu has long since dragged you into its maw.

Timeless Manifestos

À Ta Merci is an album full of contradictions. An album with twelve tracks that all sound as if they come from another dimension. Fishbach has made no compromises on her debut. She can't be reduced to a tiny piece; she wants and needs the full spectrum.

When you listen to À Ta Merci, you have to keep reminding yourself: This is an artist's first album—that's how powerful this work is. Every single song is a timeless manifesto. The references to the 80s are omnipresent, but the sound cannot be labelled as retro. There is no instruction manual to decipher Fishbach's secret of Fishbach. All attempts fail due to the multifaceted nature of their sound. It's far too easy to get lost in their labyrinth.

Then again, you have to seriously ask yourself: do you even want to dispel this mysterious fog that surrounds this lady?

Fishbach – À Ta Merci

Release: 11/02/2018

1. Ma voie lactée
2. Y crois-tu
3. Eternité
4. Un beau langage
5. Un autre que moi
6. Feu
7. On me dit tu
8. Invisible désintégration de l'univers
9. Le château
10. Mortel
11. Le meilleur de la fête
12. À ta merci
13. Dans une boîte en papier

The road winds its way through the green hills in gentle curves. The front wheel hugs the centre line. The wind rushes through the open window, and Joy Division play Love Will Tear Us Apart. The journey begins.

The foothills of the Alps pass by, slowly disappearing in the rear-view mirror. The border is approaching. The road glides on—a few hundred kilometres to Augsburg. A good three-hour journey. But what are three hours of a lifetime?

Time is relative—Albert Einstein already knew that. Yet, we don't understand time. We usually have too little, or it doesn't want to pass, as if we were sitting in a discouraging physics lecture.
But then there is the experience between the moment and eternity. Moments in which we lose all sense of time. Moments of wonder, of mystery, of magic. The complete immersion in something.

Nothing is rarer than music that is able to set this fascination to music. Because that music itself becomes timeless beyond all categorisation. It becomes intimate and unapproachable at the same time. It is a daring art of chance that defies all conceptualisation. Bob Dylan's Like A Rolling Stone emerged from a lyrical outpouring of several pages, which was later moulded into the immortal song.

Many have tried and failed to find a recipe for eternal youth. This is precisely why Markus Nikolaus and Julien Bracht should be dismissed as hopelessly lost dreamers. They call their ambitions in timeless sound art unabashed. Yet history is full of desperate and tragic heroes whose endeavours and suffering captivate us time and again.

On the other hand, suffering hasn't sounded as beautiful for a long time as on Hymns To The Night by Lea Porcelain, the musical child of Nikolaus and Bracht. The two men could not be more different: Bracht was a successful techno producer who had had enough of the parties. Nikolaus, a bittersweet singer-songwriter, in search of new facets. As different as the musicians' backgrounds may be, fate—or chance—brought them together. And the will to leave something lasting in this world has brought them together like a blast furnace.

Augsburg. The hotel tower rises over a hundred metres into the air. At its feet, a secluded park area extends, and you forget that you are in the middle of a city. Full bass sounds boom out of the green—the Modular Festival is on the home straight on Saturday afternoon.

Three stages are outdoors, and there is a club stage in the neighbouring congress centre. In between, there is a colourful jumble of graffiti walls, small market stalls of the local creative scene and a food corner that exudes beguiling scents. Even a small skate park has been set up, where BMX and board acrobats can show off in the blue sky. It's a perfect summer's day, a perfect festival day. Lea Porcelain are still in Frankfurt.

Out Is In opens the album Hymns To The Night as if a great battle were about to take place. The marching drums drive relentlessly forward. Around the war drums, Lea Porcelain conjures up a dark infinity in which the voice of Nikolaus echoes lost. Out Is In sets the tone for the songs that follow: dark, menacing and unstoppable.

But even Out Is In cannot prepare you for the overwhelming intensity that confronts you with Bones. The deeply melancholic piece lulls you in thoughtfulness that hasn't been heard since The Cure, and it's captivatingly beautiful. The instruments intertwine so seamlessly that they merge and no longer stand as individuals in the arrangement but unite in a loving act and create new life.

Nothing describes Bones—or rather the whole album—better than Greil Marcus's definition of the «total sound»: «You can know that, for you, a particular word, a certain part of the sound deep inside of the overall sound is what you want to hear; you can make a firm resolution to push aside everything else in the song in anticipation of the part of the song you want to hear. But it never works.»

In fact, you can listen to Bones a million times, and it never gets old. It doesn't age because every time you listen to it, you discover a facet you hadn't heard before.

A whole series of singles preceded Hymns To The Night. All of them were dark and captivating. They propelled Lea Porcelain to the forefront of a new wave of post-punk, also noted by Negative White. They were the true heirs of Joy Division. On closer inspection, this is an almost amateurish misunderstanding of the facts: Lea Porcelain sound about as much like Joy Division as Bob Dylan sounds like the Stones. What connects Lea Porcelain to post-punk, and Joy Division in particular, is a sense of timelessness in the music.

The fact that they are not celebrating post-punk, despite their affinity and minor references, is something the duo makes clear in the third song. A Year From Here begins with a lovely ukulele that gradually sinks in a surging torrent of electronic waves. A piece that dwells so strongly in its sphericity that one can certainly speak of dark ambient.

A few hours later, the park has filled up. The Augsburg youth and some of the young-at-heart are sitting under the trees wearing sunglasses. Of course, the festival is not complete without the eccentricities that go with it: the hipsters, the Edding penises on their cheeks and the full-body costumes. One of them has even had a lion's face painted on his face. It seems as if the puppet box has come to life.

As the sun slowly sinks towards the horizon, the atmosphere heats up. The mood becomes more relaxed, almost exuberant. On the main stage, The Sensational Skydrunk Heartbeat Orchestra repeatedly sing a line: «Our time is running out!»

Warsaw Street, which Lea Porcelain presented as a single last autumn, is the reason for the Joy Division comparisons. The drums, the deep, monotonous guitar, the sonorous, suffering vocals... in Warsaw Street, they do indeed sound like a kind of post-punk 2.0.

However, this idea already dissolves during Similar Familiar, while the piece itself drifts into a black abyss. It is a depressing but also extremely enticing listening experience. A hellish ride into a dark abyss.

Lea Porcelain only breaks with their sonic concept once. White Noise is a piano ballad. The song, which comes sixth, seems to have been deliberately placed in the centre as if the band didn't want to overwhelm the listener: a short breather. Here, Nikolaus' voice is clearly in the spotlight for the first time. In this respect, White Noise remains the only radical element in the sound structure. It is not easy to decide whether or not to accept this foreign body in the universe.

With the last light of day, Lea Porcelain arrive in Augsburg. Their black bus is pulling a trailer full of equipment. They have no idea what hustle and bustle awaits them in the park.

Two police officers are enthusiastically watching the crazy goings-on in the halfpipe. So they don't see a boy of barely 16 scurrying into the bushes with his equally young companion. His eyes twinkle mischievously as he disappears behind the leaves.

As darkness falls, Gurr sing about walnuts. Lea Porcelain lug their equipment behind the club stage. Afterwards, they watch Kakkmaddafakka from their room in the hotel tower.

After the balladesque interlude of White Noise, Lea Porcelain returns to familiar waters. But they have taken new courage. The Love is driven by a sluggish groove. It serves as a common thread while the song continues to increase, to then unfold its full force in the chorus.

Then follows A Far Away Land, which already draws an endlessly vast horizon in terms of sound. Nikolaus dispenses with practically any intonation. The monotone is the constant in which the singer breathes his lines almost breathlessly into the microphone.

If Bones was already melancholy, Remember is inconsolably sad.

I got the feeling I lost you already

Remember is the undertow that draws you out of the moment of life. Everything around you blurs and fades into insignificance.

The distant trance state of Remember continues in 12th Of September. The song about Nikolaus's deceased father blossoms like a shady flower. The archaic drumbeats give the song a ritual character, accompanied by drawn-out cries. Lea Porcelain tread a very fine line, dancing between hope and despair. It is music that disarms with its honesty.

In fact, the sound is always overwhelmingly grand. Despite this epochal attitude, the songs remain within reach. Despite the exuberant arrangements, the music sounds organic. Even in Loose Life, the most unwieldy piece on the album. With a daring rhythm and psychedelic repetitions in the lyrics, Loose Life is vaguely reminiscent of the early works of The Beauty of Gemina. And as with A Year From Here, classical structures disappear in the abundance of electronic spheres.

At midnight, everything has to happen quickly. There are just fifteen minutes to dismantle the stage for the band Carpet and set it up for Lea Porcelain. The schedule has been changed so that Lea Porcelain are the last band to perform at the entire Modular Festival. It's a thankless task. And, of course, that quarter of an hour is never enough, especially not for Bracht, Nikolaus and their two colleagues, who always want to do it perfectly. They don't let themselves be put off and take as much time as they can get. After all, the night is still young, and their anthems haven't been played yet.

Sometime after two in the morning, Lea Porcelain load their trailer again. The mood is gloomy. They are not happy with the show, which they mastered quite well despite technical problems and an inattentive audience. But they make no compromises when it comes to quality. They don't want to be satisfied with the concert. They can't.

Peter Hook, bassist with Joy Division and New Order, once said that Joy Division had developed musically in the direction of U2. So, Lea Porcelain and Joy Division have another aspect in common, which is manifested in the final Endlessly. The German duo sound confusingly similar here. The crystal-clear guitar leads through the song, and Nikolaus's voice can hardly be distinguished from Bono's.
The musical homage to U2 is so good that it is better than the original. Endlessly is one long crescendo. With surgical precision, Lea Porcelain layer upon layer until the arrangement suddenly erupts like a volcano. A short, powerful explosion. What remains is a sense of bewilderment coupled with euphoria.

It is a feeling that characterises both Endlessly on a small scale and Hymns To The Night as a whole. These twelve songs last only 48 minutes, but the impression remains of having spent an entire lifetime in their universe. A slight uneasiness creeps in because you can't explain how it happened.

At the same time, you feel like you've just witnessed something extraordinary. A part of something greater than your own existence. Therefore, although Hymns To The Night is rooted in melancholy, in the end, there is a feeling of liberation.

Lea Porcelain – Hymns To The Night

Release: 16/06/2017

1. Out Is In
2. Bones
3. A Year From Here
4. Warsaw Street
5. Similar Familiar
6. White Noise
7. The Love
8. A Far Away Land
9. Remember
10. 12th Of September
11. Loose Life
12. Endlessly

Music leaves an impression when it is unique. When it breaks the mould and opens the door to an unknown cosmos.

Such music remains the exception. Because it can only be created by a small circle of artists. These are the people who do not just make music for the sake of music. These are the people whose music is the product of a drive. It is about naked survival. For these people, music is like water – without it, death is inevitable.

Adna Kadic is one of those people. You can feel it in every verse, every note: she is doing what she was meant to do. The Swede with Bosnian roots lives in Berlin and, despite her young age, has already released two albums.

Her 2014 debut, Night, was a raw diamond. Step by step, Adna found her own sound. In just one year, she had created her universe on Run, Lucifer. The album sounds so intense and definitive that it could be the end result of a career.

Adna’s «Run, Lucifer»: Gentle Music Is a Deadly Weapon

This woman with big, deep eyes stands in front of a grey wall. A glance fulfilled with heartbreaking melancholy and an ancient sadness. As vulnerable as a flower and as sturdy as a rock.

Negative WhiteJanosch Troehler

It's not an easy position for a young musician to be in. The third album, Closure, is the continuation of the story, but one with two possible endings: either Adna will continue her ascent, or she will have to admit to herself that she has already reached the summit with Run, Lucifer and that only descent remains.

One way or another, Adna's career will continue. However, this tightrope walk in the unknown makes Closure a fascinating place to be.

Vulnerable Songs

The nine-track album opens with the eponymous song Closure. The fight begins with drums, driving and urgent. The sound is unmistakable. The song sounds rebellious, seeking a way out.

This is in the form of Overthinking, the single that was released in October 2016. The beat that drives the arrangement in the background sounds like it's coming from a nightclub in the distance. Overthinking is the fastest song Adna has made since The Prettiest.

In Overthinking, there is also a brief glimpse of an as-yet unexplored facet of her sound cosmos. Until now, this cosmos has been defined by gentle ballads.

While Shiver gave Run, Lucifer the overwhelming goosebump moment, Closure is given to the piece Leave. If you want to understand Adna, you can't avoid it. Because no matter how much epochal pathos she builds into her songs, if you cut it away, what remains is a small, vulnerable song like Leave.

Never gonna dream again
Make sure I never let you in again
If it goes to hell at least it goes somewhere

The marching drums of Now do little to change this common denominator, just as the urge in Overthinking does not. Adna opens her soul and heart in every song. She exposes them to the elements. Fearless and courageous, she faces pain, grief, and fleeting love.

This is the reason why Adna's sound has changed only marginally. It has to be in perfect balance so that her openness to the dark moments of life does not turn against her.

Gentle Changes

The introductory guitar melody is reminiscent of Run, Lucifer's Living. Although this observation would have to be revised: Thoughts is not a new song, but was already included on Night. However, the new interpretation impressively demonstrates the development of her style: delicate yet essential.

Thoughts proves that there is still a change to be seen. The song was the second single announced by Closure. Adna had written Thoughts when she was just 16 years old as a tribute to her Bosnian roots.

Another of his great works is If. A constant increase characterises the song. Starting off quietly and cautiously, If continues to build up to an epochal overwhelm. While Soaked is a typical Adna piece, Hide ventures into a more experimental groove. Introduced by a reverberant, almost sacred chant, Hide then leads into a swaying rhythm. When this chant finally meets this beat, the result is a breathtaking blend of religious rapture and contemporary pop passion.

Where should we go with our longing
If not to each other

One thing in particular could be held against Adna: the multiple self-quotations. Someone for example continues the piano melody from Shiver. A pedant would interpret it as a lack of inspiration. What is more obvious is that the conceptual constraint of the album is broken.

Neither Run, Lucifer nor Closure should be understood as hermetic biotopes. The slow pace of the musical development brings the two albums closer together than one calendar would suggest. The months between the albums fade. In Adna's world, the earth revolves around musical time.

So Someone becomes the final piece of evidence that her music is unique—except in her own cosmos. But it doesn't have to be, because you could get lost in this world forever, this ecosystem full of thoughtfulness, gentleness and beauty.

Night has defined the boundaries. Run, Lucifer has sown the seeds, along with ideas of what spring could look like. Now the first dark, beautiful flowers are sprouting on Closure.

Adna – Closure

Release: 17/03/2017

1. Closure
2. Overthinking
3. Leave
4. Now
5. Thoughts
6. If
7. Soaked Eyes
8. Hide Me in Smoke
9. Someone's Someone

They’re back: Danko Jones. The two years since the last album seem to have flown by, but at the same time, it feels like an eternity. In fact, the band always come at the right moment: just when you want to declare rock dead, they come careering around the corner, smoking tyres and giving you an electric shock.

And no defibrillator can inject rock with more new life than Wild Cat – the latest outrage from the Canadians. There is not just circumstantial evidence for this, but solid proof:

Exhibit 1: Speed

Wild Cat is a 39-minute kick in the ass. At most, Below The Belt can hold on with this hurricane. Right from the first song, I Gotta Rock, Danko Jones shatters any doubts: something loud, wild and ecstatic is unleashed here. The furious Going Out Tonight, the punky Let’s Start Dancing, the steam locomotive riff of Wild Cat. Where these songs thunder, grass will never grow again.

Sometimes, the trio slows down a bit. But then the songs get really heavy. My Little RnR or Revolution cultivate a more relaxed blues-rock groove. But whether fast or heavy, the songs are like punches. Danko Jones always charges head-on.

Exhibit 2: Simplicity

Complex rock music is for Radiohead fans. Students in turtleneck sweaters talking about free jazz over a glass of red wine. Danko Jones’ world, on the other hand, is simple. His melodies are catchy. His riffs crackle and pop like fireworks. The refrains degenerate into sing-along orgasms. Hymns for the working class. The soundtrack for beer, sweat and pogo. Why should Danko Jones deviate from this recipe? He knows how to get the crowd going.

Exhibit 3: Fun

If you’re looking for melancholy, give Wild Cat a wide berth. Every vibration of the strings radiates the joy of playing. Every beat of the cowbell releases endorphins. Danko Jones lets the corks pop as if there were no tomorrow.

As with simplicity, if you want to throw a party, you have to put your heart and soul into it. Rock is not a matter for the head but for the loins. More on this later.

Exhibit 4: Self-confidence

Danko Jones’ self-confidence could also be interpreted as arrogance. However, the arrogance of the self-proclaimed «hardest working band in the world» can be taken with a wink. It’s a coquetry.

Of course, Danko Jones have a healthy dose of self-confidence. But it is one that they have worked hard for with years of passion. Anyone who has experienced the band live knows precisely what it means.

With Do This Every Night, Mountain—the song they only play at concerts—finally has a brother. In this song, they express their passion for music. With the ironic arrogance, of course:

Let’s get up to get down
I want the lights on me
We gonna rock this town

Exhibit 5: Sex

Back to the loins. Sex is not just a spicy ingredient but the basis for the hot cocktail. It almost seems as if it is their greatest artistic motivation. And yes, they are direct and explicit:

Success in bed
Is all we need
Don’t stress, undress
I take the lead

Well, frontman Danko Jones is not a tall guy. His hair would be sparse even without shaving. And he is almost blind in one eye because, for years, he hit himself on stage when the audience wasn’t freaking out enough. Nevertheless, Danko has a strange attraction. This is not primarily due to the energy of an entire army that he can unleash. Nor to his crazy tongue acrobatics or directness.

No, because Danko disarms with passion. No matter how macho the lyrics may sound. Even when he sings, «Come over here, baby, and let me love you like a man», you can feel his submissiveness towards the fairer sex. He may want to play the tough guy, but he always surrenders to a woman’s weapons without a fight.

Sex is, therefore, merely a gimmick. Danko Jones are closet romantics. It’s about love:

Nobody understands
that the two of us have something special
Like a bond that can’t be broken
Like a shield of protection
This bond of ours is unspoken

The Verdict

The evidence is on the table. Now comes the judgement.

Wild Cat continues where Below The Belt left off. The album returns to the roots: killer riffs, euphoria and the occasional spoken word.

After Danko Jones created an album for the ages with Below The Belt (2010), they parted ways amicably with drummer Dan Cornelius. They found a replacement in Atom Willard, who refused to play with a three-piece drum set. As a result, Rock And Roll Is Black And Blue (2012) was rather cumbersome. It would be harsh to call the album a real low point, but it was definitely not a highlight either.

Even Danko Jones and bassist John Calabrese realised that Willard was the wrong choice, so they brought in Rich Know, who returned to the trio for the album Fire Music (2015). Hallelujah! Fire Music did away with the blues, but here and there, the trio still had to find its groove.

Now, with Wild Cat, they seem to have. The album vibrates, roars and pounds. It is erotic and rebellious. In short, it is rock ‘n’ roll in its purest and rawest form. Wild Cat has the DNA of Danko Jones. A cheeky immorality. A new high point.

Danko Jones – Wild Cat

Release: 03/03/2017

1. I Gotta Rock
2. My Little RnR
3. Going Out Tonight
4. You Are My Woman
5. Do This Every Night
6. Let's Start Dancing
7. Wild Cat
8. She Likes It
9. Success In Bed
10. Diamond Lady
11. Revolution (But Then We Make Love)

Uncompromising. There is hardly another attribute that is used more inflationarily in music journalism—and is so rarely applicable. Zeal & Ardor shows what musical uncompromising actually sounds like. The project is the brainchild of Swiss-American dual national Manuel Gagneux.

The story of how Zeal & Ardor came about is already an urban legend: it all started on the most abysmal of all internet forums—4chan—where Gagneux was looking for new inspiration. He asked users to name some music genres, and within 30 minutes, he had produced a song out of them.

The terms «black metal» and «ni**er music» were mentioned. The first reaction of Gagneux, who is black himself, was outrage and rejection. But the idea would not let him go.

And so the album Devil Is Fine was created, with the first version released on Bandcamp in April 2016. It is a unique fusion of slave spirituals and the occult sounds of black metal. Metal journalist Kim Kelly and her extensive network then triggered unprecedented hype around Zeal & Ardor. No other Swiss music project has ever caused such an international sensation. From «Rolling Stone» to «SRF» and «Wochenzeitung» to «Die Zeit»–they all wrGagneux’s Gagneux's creation: «Black Black Metal.»

The Beginning

When you listen to the album for the first time, it is immediately clear where the overwhelming enthusiasm comes from. In an age when music has become an ever-present commodity when styles converge instead of contrasting and inevitably becoming boring, Devil Is Fine is like a punch in the face. There is nothing to compare the sound with. It is unique.

The eponymous track Devil Is Fine is an amazingly gentle introduction to the album. The spiritual vocals begin naked in an empty space, and the arrangement builds up hesitantly and subtly. The guitars skilfully stay in the background, lying in wait. They will ambush the listener soon enough. The instrumental part grows larger, louder and more powerful. But just before the approaching climax, the construct breaks apart again, leaving only single piano strokes.

The Trap

The entry with Devil Is Fine remains devious. It lures several groups into a trap: the metal fans who hoped that Zeal & Ardor would finally bring movement into conservative black metal and the brave who want to get to the bottom of the hype surrounding the project. They will now think that the black metal is not as bad as they thought.

But then along comes In Ashes. Without warning, the guitars vibrate brutally, opening a black maw that sucks everything into itself. Over this rumbling storm, the voice howls: «Burn the young boy, burn him good.»

At the latest now, you know again what uncompromising means. In Ashes is so bulky, so consistent in its concept and merciless in its execution that the overwhelming demands leave you disarmed.

Sacrilegium I is the first of three interludes. They are all further proof that Zeal & Ardor simply cannot be defined. Sacrilegium I is a stuttering electronic piece, neither spiritual nor black metal, but most closely related to dubstep. As confusing as it may sound, it sounds more familiar than the first two songs and is, therefore, a well-calculated breather.

With Come On Down, the band is already adding to it again in the «black black metal» manner. The song probably comes closest to traditional metal. Come On Down is the perfect symbiosis of slave spirituals and heavy guitar thunderstorms. As if Devil Is Fine and In Ashes had paired up during Sacrilegium I.

Those who thought that Come On Down was already the perfection of the idea will Children’s Summon like an ignorant child. The lyrical theme of Come On Down is taken further. The sacred chants cut into the breathless metal like ominous spells, brazenly sawing through the unstoppable speed.

Sacrilegium II brings the break again. A lovely bell melody sounds – yes, maybe even a lullaby. A valium for the ear canal. But as much as you wish this interlude had a calming effect, there is still unease as Sacrilegium II drifts into a psychedelic reverberation.

The Climax

While In Ashes, Come On Down, and Children’s Summon were still dominated by black metal, the tables are turned once and for all in Blood in the River. Here, the spiritual with an apocalyptic message dominates:

A good god
is a dead one
A good god
Is the one that brings the fire

A good lord
is a dark one
A good lord
Is the one that brings the fire

The riverbed will run red with the blood of the saints and the blood of the holy

It is the ultimate highlight of the album. The magnificence of the concept behind Zeal & Ardor is manifested in no other track as succinctly as in Blood in the River.

The Irritation

Then comes another irritation: What Is a Killer Like You Gonna Do Here is neither spiritual nor black metal. It is a murmuring, dark country number. There is something of Nick Cave about it, along with the weird guitar interlude. But the song is neither particularly unique nor particularly good. And it is quickly forgotten.

The question marks that can be erased from the three Sacrilegiums in a generous act must be underlined for this song. Provocation as a side effect is a nice thing—especially when it hits black metal purists.

But What Is a Killer Like You Gonna Do Here remains the only real foreign body on the album. One that could have been confidently left out. That Devil Is Fine is no typical metal album has long been apparent.

So you are almost relieved when the conclusion of Sacrilegium III finally concludes the album. A melody that is reminiscent of classical music but, in its execution, is reminiscent of the MIDI sound of early console games. A conciliatory farewell.

The Scheme

It is striking that the songs of Zeal & Ardor seem to be structured similarly. In an interview with the online magazine alpkvlt.ch, Gagneux explained the scheme:

It is no coincidence that I usually start with a group sing-along. This singing, which was intoned by the slaves together to motivate each other at work, has a driving force. It inevitably has a welcoming effect and creates a sense of community. Now, metal can also have this driving force; but it can also come across as aggressive and unwelcoming, depending on the subjective attitude of the listener. That is why I wait a while before I let the metal guitars in. By that point, you've already been gripped by that sense of community. At that point, the metal guitars come across as a tailwind.

The impulse

If we leave out What Is a Killer Like You Gonna Do Here, then Devil Is Fine is by far the most fascinating album Switzerland and the world have heard in recent years. No wonder, then, that the coverage is increasingly penetrating into spheres that otherwise dismiss metal in general and black metal in particular as noise or a satanic subculture.

This also leads to raised eyebrows—not least among metal fans themselves. But Gagneux does not care much about that:

I am well aware that the concept can be problematic for some people. Be it right-wingers who don't like to see black metal mixed with black music, or left-wingers who break what I do, a cultural theft or sacrilege. My aim is to break down barriers.

And yet, this is precisely what Zeal & Ardor have arguably done best. Manuel Gagneux, who is actually a pop musician, is shaking up the metal genre, which has been stuck in a rut for years. Devil Is Fine is not only a breath of fresh air for metal in terms of musical experimentation but also in terms of its external view of metal itself.

The album has the potential to become the blueprint for a whole new generation of metal bands. A generation that doesn't care much for unwritten rules but instead embraces metal for what it is: an incredibly diverse base material. This meant nothing less than a return to the origins of the genre. Only by doing so could metal develop into a style that could produce such a vast number of subgenres.

The Sequel

What began as a provocation on the internet has now become a provocation cast in music in the form of Devil Is Fine. Gagneux could now leave the Zeal & Ardor project alone, but work continues because he is still not satisfied with his sound. Just a few days ago, a new song emerged: Don't You Dare was played in a live session on RTS Couleur3.

Zeal & Ardor – Devil Is Fine

Release: 24/02/2017

1. Devil Is Fine
2. In Ashes
3. Sacrilgium I
4. Come on Down
5. Children's Summon
6. Sacrilegium II
7. Blood in the River
8. What Is a Killer Like You Gonna Do Here?
9. Sacrilegium III