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In the cold and dark of Northern Europe, it was said, there has lately been a proliferation of a post-punk revival phenomenon with releases that are definitely noteworthy. If I like to identify this movement with the Danish band Iceage and particularly with their second work "You're Nothing" from last year (in my opinion, a true cornerstone of our era), it's also true that Elias Ronnenfelt and company are not the only credible standard-bearers of this new wave of third-millennium nihilists (years which, in terms of crap and disillusionment, have nothing to envy of that half-decade straddling the seventies and eighties that gave birth first to punk and then its post derivatives).
Among the most insidious rivals, capable of challenging the leadership of the Copenhagen ensemble, we certainly point to the Swedish Holograms, who themselves in 2013 came out with a remarkable second album: that "Forever" which in one fell swoop annihilated and made one forget the bland debut, bringing them into the spotlight, thanks in part to the reflections from the rise of their Danish "cousins."
Compared to other bands devoted to similar sounds, the four from Stockholm are perhaps less original, so much so that we could define their approach as academic: the gear crafted undoubtedly moves among the branches and threats of that urban jungle artfully created by the earliest Killing Joke; the moods recalled are those of the Cure's classic duo "Seventeen Seconds"/"Faith": and indeed the bass, between rhythmic and melodic, is just like Simon Gallup's, while the metallic roar, coincidentally, echoes muted like that of a young Robert Smith; the roar and power of the guitar, finally, are directly borrowed from certain overseas death-rock. Yet, despite the inevitable references, the music of these damned Holograms is damn effective.
Given the punk urgency of the proposal, they would work well even as a trio (Andreas Lagerstrom on bass and vocals, Anton Spetze on guitar and backing vocals, Anton Strandberg on drums), but we certainly don't mind, here and there, the brushstrokes of synthesizers by Filip Spetze, inserts and backdrops that confer upon everything a glacial aura that also throws a pinch of coldwave into the mix. The shameless romanticism of the beautiful cover, which frames in a strictly black background the "Dante and Virgil" by French painter William Bouguereau, while embodying the epic and decadent mood that permeates the work, is misleading since the sparse sounds and irreducibly in-your-face attitude would evoke a very different kind of iconography.
So we start right away with "A Sacred State," an explosive opening track that hits us with the impact of an overwhelming rhythm section and a stinging baritone voice rife with glitches and pronunciation errors (the dilapidated "furevaaaaaa" shouted in the irresistible refrain is almost comical). So what are the strengths of "Forever"? A compact and disturbing sound corpus, marked by the darting performance behind the skins by a tireless Strandberg (who even hints at a blast-beat in the finale of the composite "Flesh & Bone"!) and a surprising ability to sew, in rapid succession, incisive verses and always spot-on choruses: all condensed in the classic three/four minutes that of course don't allow for great variations on the theme, but neither preclude a timid development within the individual tracks, which aspire to distinguish themselves from one another.
All episodes, therefore, are worthwhile, but certainly standing out are the fourth track (a catchy "Attestupa," distinguished by solid mid-tempo, well-highlighted keyboards, and a refrain that immediately stamps itself into your brain) and the eighth (the catchy "Laughter Breaks the Silence," which evokes the epic Cure of "From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea," ultimately touching upon the pathos of the most blatant Sisters of Mercy). Only on the occasion of "Wolves" and the concluding "Lay Us Down" do they momentarily lift their foot off the accelerator, with—in my opinion—not exciting results (particularly in the second case), as the impression is that these two airy tracks with their anthemic progressions, albeit not without stretched attempts to achieve a generational anthem status, are a requisite act to adhere to certain clichés of the genre, or simply to break the monotony.
A monotony that actually doesn't exist, considering that the four musicians give their best precisely when they decide to run without brakes: certainly, their music may not exude that authenticity, that vibrant and incandescent existential discomfort that some creations of their rivals Iceage emanate, yet this does not alter the fact that, for those terribly fascinated by this new wave of young bands devoted to post-punk, "Forever" remains undeniably a necessary step.
Among the most insidious rivals, capable of challenging the leadership of the Copenhagen ensemble, we certainly point to the Swedish Holograms, who themselves in 2013 came out with a remarkable second album: that "Forever" which in one fell swoop annihilated and made one forget the bland debut, bringing them into the spotlight, thanks in part to the reflections from the rise of their Danish "cousins."
Compared to other bands devoted to similar sounds, the four from Stockholm are perhaps less original, so much so that we could define their approach as academic: the gear crafted undoubtedly moves among the branches and threats of that urban jungle artfully created by the earliest Killing Joke; the moods recalled are those of the Cure's classic duo "Seventeen Seconds"/"Faith": and indeed the bass, between rhythmic and melodic, is just like Simon Gallup's, while the metallic roar, coincidentally, echoes muted like that of a young Robert Smith; the roar and power of the guitar, finally, are directly borrowed from certain overseas death-rock. Yet, despite the inevitable references, the music of these damned Holograms is damn effective.
Given the punk urgency of the proposal, they would work well even as a trio (Andreas Lagerstrom on bass and vocals, Anton Spetze on guitar and backing vocals, Anton Strandberg on drums), but we certainly don't mind, here and there, the brushstrokes of synthesizers by Filip Spetze, inserts and backdrops that confer upon everything a glacial aura that also throws a pinch of coldwave into the mix. The shameless romanticism of the beautiful cover, which frames in a strictly black background the "Dante and Virgil" by French painter William Bouguereau, while embodying the epic and decadent mood that permeates the work, is misleading since the sparse sounds and irreducibly in-your-face attitude would evoke a very different kind of iconography.
So we start right away with "A Sacred State," an explosive opening track that hits us with the impact of an overwhelming rhythm section and a stinging baritone voice rife with glitches and pronunciation errors (the dilapidated "furevaaaaaa" shouted in the irresistible refrain is almost comical). So what are the strengths of "Forever"? A compact and disturbing sound corpus, marked by the darting performance behind the skins by a tireless Strandberg (who even hints at a blast-beat in the finale of the composite "Flesh & Bone"!) and a surprising ability to sew, in rapid succession, incisive verses and always spot-on choruses: all condensed in the classic three/four minutes that of course don't allow for great variations on the theme, but neither preclude a timid development within the individual tracks, which aspire to distinguish themselves from one another.
All episodes, therefore, are worthwhile, but certainly standing out are the fourth track (a catchy "Attestupa," distinguished by solid mid-tempo, well-highlighted keyboards, and a refrain that immediately stamps itself into your brain) and the eighth (the catchy "Laughter Breaks the Silence," which evokes the epic Cure of "From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea," ultimately touching upon the pathos of the most blatant Sisters of Mercy). Only on the occasion of "Wolves" and the concluding "Lay Us Down" do they momentarily lift their foot off the accelerator, with—in my opinion—not exciting results (particularly in the second case), as the impression is that these two airy tracks with their anthemic progressions, albeit not without stretched attempts to achieve a generational anthem status, are a requisite act to adhere to certain clichés of the genre, or simply to break the monotony.
A monotony that actually doesn't exist, considering that the four musicians give their best precisely when they decide to run without brakes: certainly, their music may not exude that authenticity, that vibrant and incandescent existential discomfort that some creations of their rivals Iceage emanate, yet this does not alter the fact that, for those terribly fascinated by this new wave of young bands devoted to post-punk, "Forever" remains undeniably a necessary step.
Tracklist
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