Breach
Kollapse

Few bands are as mistreated as Breach. In the prodigious rise of post-hardcore in recent years, they have mostly remained behind the scenes of the "scene," followed passionately by a very small circle of cultists of their extraordinary music.

Among the apocalyptic search of Neurosis, the psychedelic progression of Isis, the melodic emotion of Pelican, and the hyper-extremism of Converge, Breach, the first and great European post-corers, find a path that is completely unique and personal. A path that winds through doses of powerful hardcore (Murder Kings and Killer Queens), rotten, painful, dark noise infestations (Alarma), psychedelic traces, journeys beyond the pure human boundaries (It's me God). And - imagine this - there's even Mike Patton in the mix (the clean voice in Lost Crew seems unequivocal to me)!

An unmissable album, a continuous stream of genius: pure sublimation of post-hardcore in all its forms. There are no dead points, no breaks, the naturalness of the entire composition is so evident that it almost frightens, consuming time. There are absolutely cathartic moments, moments of hate, anger, rejection, breaths, moments of pure tension, contemplation, asceticism. The drums give way to the guitar's sound expansions only to return to the scheme, growing, like a savage divine project brought to its sublime completion.

These are ecstatic, exalted, sentimental words. It should be noted. Words of an idiot who should be a critic, but simply can't do it. This is music that provokes strong emotion. Yes, okay, since you're humorous, even a cerebral commotion? And I answer you, damn, yes, this stuff is dangerous, it's art, damn it, not just the first guitar strums that might come to mind. There is a mind, an organic design, a conceptual coherence behind what you find here; there is an idea, an idea of music, that these geniuses have put on a CD. On a perceptible medium, for us ordinary mortals.

Moving to the last song, Kollapse. The final epitaph, Breach's last gift before their disbandment, their final words. And as the first notes, open, airy, slowly involve me in a grand crescendo, strong like the last note of a classical opera, when all the instruments strive to give the listener the maximum essence of themselves before fading, for the last time, the final collapse, leaving an indelible memory and an unparalleled example.

[N. d. H.: Tomas Hallbom, the band's singer, later lent his voice to the collective The Ocean. Another band of great interest]