Lantlôs
.Neon

For some time now, when talking about a certain European BM scene (I'm referring to France and Germany in particular), often bizarre associations emerge at first glance, primarily to shoegaze, or terms like post-black which would give a heart attack to a true blackster (assuming there are still any, almost extinct like the panda). Here, the issue is not of secondary importance, given the vicissitudes of a genre that in the span of a couple of decades (or even less) has exhausted the nihilistic, misanthropic, and why not poetic drive that sincerely informed it in the early stunning works of the usually (more or less) known. Too often, alas, there has been senseless abuse over the years of certain themes and imagery; and the music... the music... bands that have tried to free themselves and indicate new paths, like Arcturus or H.O.P.E. (just to mention the first two names that come to mind, but also the same MayheM of "Grand Declaration Of War"), too often have preached in an (almost) desert. The average blackster (who thinks the name Burzum is simply an artistic pseudonym of Varg Vikernes) revels, bless them, in their own ignorance, and in recent years only the depressive trend seems to have managed (albeit with varying fortunes and often very questionable results) to keep a funeral light lit on the tombstone of black metal.

So let there be shoegaze, let there be post rock and more (I refer you to this review from a few days ago by StefanoHab), if intelligently grafted onto a very valid musical proposal like, in this case, that of the Lantlôs project by German musician and multi-instrumentalist Herbst, who in this 2010, under Prophecy Productions, releases ".Neon", his second work, making use of the valuable collaboration of another French multi-instrumentalist Neige (already Peste Noire, Alcest, Amesoeurs, and others), here engaged only (so to speak) in vocals. The name Lantlôs is not new among insiders, rather a guarantee of quality black metal and never trivial, and it is precisely on already high standards that the experience and personality of the aforementioned Neige are grafted to give ".Neon" that touch of sublime that captures the listener from the very first notes. This album does not have a single moment of decline throughout its duration, and it is surprising how Herbst and Neige managed in only 40 minutes and six tracks to put so much on the table without ever losing sight of a guiding thread made of soft and subdued lights, desperate but not necessarily absolutely negative feelings. There is elegance even in pain, one might say, and in ".Neon" this feeling is evident from the meticulously crafted and crystalline production of both the arrangements and the sounds, which, never neglecting the purely black matrix made of ultra-buzzing guitars and furious blast beats, manage to open up to contaminations made sometimes of sonic walls as intelligent as they are impenetrable (take for example the track "These Nights Were Ours"), sometimes of cyclical bass lines and almost jazz drums (the opener "Minusmensch" or the surprising "Pulse/Surreal"). Melody is the guiding line of all the tracks, even in the faster passages, nor are there any missing more reflective moments that at times inevitably seem to recall the more inspired Alcest.

Precisely the vocal effort by Neige is extraordinary, his screaming is never banal or an end in itself but beautifully intertwined from piece to piece, and even within individual tracks. It is difficult to point to one track over others, because the quality remains extremely high from start to finish, although ".Neon", it is worth saying, is not an easy album to listen to. It indeed requires several passes to be best assimilated, but in the end, it inevitably conquers and captivates lovers of darker sounds who do not give up seeking extreme refinement and intelligence in an album.

Personally, I really love "Coma", a track that seems to be written directly by Katatonia of Brave Murder Day (and indeed it would not have looked out of place on that album) but carries within itself a bleak freshness that will instinctively make you close your eyes and, perhaps, shed a cold tear...