Deafheaven
New Bermuda

The most well-groomed of the neighborhood are back. If you're wondering what I mean by well-groomed, let me simplify it: meticulous. The Deafheaven phenomenon is something that's not hard to understand, yet it still leaves a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. A bit like a good paella. The San Francisco band wasn't the first nor the last to find themselves in the right place, at the right time, under the right spotlight, with the right people surrounding them all in the right position on the chessboard to make the right move. Another key word to decipher the code of success is hype. Here, there's a need to distinguish between overseas perception and European (or at least, Italian) perception. It's true, Pitchfork will by default give at least an 8.0 to their releases, unless it’s Ian Cohen reviewing. They've played at prestigious festivals like Primavera, the Pitchfork Festival in Paris, and even the desert Coachella Valley, just a step away from giants like Kanye West. You can understand yourself that I've mentioned these names just to frame the context you have to deal with when discussing Deafheaven these days; even though in Italy at the Lo-Fi there were about eighty people and at the Magnolia in full June, they barely crossed one hundred with effort deserving of the best cyclist breaking away. "Sunbather", with that pink cover, appreciated even by Apple gurus, broke the chains of the underground that kept Deafheaven anchored to a close-knit circle of admirers. The ones who might say: "Yes, I've known them since the days of that Palo Alto garage with 'Roads to Judah' still in demo/pre-recording phase". From that moment, from the release of "Sunbather," Deafheaven have never looked back. They even bid farewell to mother Deathwish, settling with ANTI-, the sister label of Epitaph. In terms of distribution, they've gained even more strength, but for recording, the California group still turned to the skilled hands of long-time friend Jack Shirley. A bit of old school, really. It's time for new changes, new directions, new unknown shores. It's time for "New Bermuda". And no, surprisingly, it's not the new Calvin Klein accessory line.

Make no mistake, the sarcastic tone of the review is not meant to be derogatory. Otherwise, I wouldn't have given them my money three times, wouldn't have given five stars to "Sunbather", wouldn't continue to love "Roads to Judah", and you'd have to institutionalize me for bipolar disorder. The point is that around these Deafheaven, when discussing them, I now see a gigantic macroscopic lens. Every movement and air displacement is analyzed with techniques that reinvent Grissom's pranks before launching the Who in C.S.I. The seriousness with which Deafheaven's proposal is faced, from a very personal perspective, leads to an undeserved overvaluation. In short, people are trying to see a bit too much beyond. Deafheaven do not (yet) have the incisive depth of the entire American Northwest scene, they don't have the spirituality and unease of acts like Leviathan, nor the martial atmosphere of Altar of Plagues, nor the executive complexity of Blut Aus Nord. Deafheaven orbit in their own galaxy, some comparisons would be decidedly out of place. Adding this "New Bermuda" to the now fully-fledged band's discography (it’s no longer just the McCoy/Clarke duo composing), there is a clear break from "Sunbather". The shoegaze component that stood out so much has been abandoned for a rougher, less refined sound. There’s still that violent alternation between dark parts and more brilliant, expansive ones. The uncompromising fury of George Clarke’s scream is the constant that cannot disappear. The compositions become more varied, searching for new sensations to balance between. Among dramatic melodies and airy interludes that are no longer just interludes, claiming the stage rightly and expanding on the themes hinted at in "Sunbather".

Deafheaven are not revolutionary, but they are adept connoisseurs of the material they draw from with both hands. "New Bermuda" proves to be more versatile and varied in its compositional choices than "Sunbather". The monolith effect is averted by more shifting nuances that reveal a group capable of being lulled with eyes closed between delicate arpeggios reminiscent of post-rock and the restlessness of black metal-inspired tremolo picking. But, ultimately, let's look in the mirror. What's left of black metal (yes, I mean post-black blablabla) in Deafheaven? Surely, Clarke's voice. Surely, certain outbursts by Daniel Tracy, who proves to be more than a drummer, but a combat robot, yet in the rest "New Bermuda" represents a new chapter in Deafheaven's career because it definitively detaches them from properly black roots. Shirley’s production is bombastic (is this word Italian or did I invent it directly from English? Well, make do) and further emphasizes Deafheaven's propensity to change form and reinvent themselves. McCoy's riffs are much sharper, slicing through like a blade that causes a clean cut, and sometimes even explode into solos with wah-wah, enough to bring tears to Kirk Hammett's eyes. The end of "Gifts for the Earth" reminds me of Oasis, can you imagine. And I can't stand Oasis, so I won’t talk about them. The emotional wave of Deafheaven, however, is quite stirring, Clarke's rawness is often liberating and, like a conductor, heralds the changes in direction the piece wants to follow. Live, moreover, personal note, all new tracks come through and not little. Deafheaven know how to be devastating and desperately invigorating, that is their greatest ability. They wear their unique mask and dive into the darkest depths of an icy ocean, yet as they disappear, they also know how to ascend towards warmer and brighter rays. This mood has been present since "Roads to Judah" and will never change, it is in the band’s DNA. "New Bermuda" will divide? Definitely, but Deafheaven know exactly what they're doing. They know it all too well.