Saturnus
Martyre

THE REVIEW

Is there a limit to pain? To the contortions of the soul? To the mysteries of the deepest uncertainties?

These twelve tears eviscerate hope, martyr the carcasses of impossible dreams, whisper the screaming solitude. But they do it with grace, with elegance, tenderly slapping astonished listeners, sucking out their hidden emotions, transforming them into sweet, misty nightmares. "Martyre" is a long walk among dry leaves of damp paths, puddles of stagnant sadness, old houses with walls wounded by cracks, it is the gaze of a young woman with blonde hair, with crystal-green eyes but with a desolate and inconsolable expression. The Copenhagen sextet surpasses the limits of elegance, crosses the boundaries of a genre clung to overused patterns, sweeps away in a tornado of notes that shine with nostalgic purity. This without overdoing it, without relying on choristers, flutists, forced female warbles but with the sheer devastating power of their instruments, the skill of a chameleon-like vocalist, keyboards like drops of frost. All the tracks should be mentioned for the elegance-intensity combination. "Inflame thy heart" shines for a guitar work of crystalline class, penetrating melodies, and incisive yet harmonious singing. Fantastic "Empty handed" with its riffing reminiscent of "Draconian times" by the Lost, softer and more thoughtful "Noir" and "A poem" where Larsen and Poulsen's crying guitars inflict burning wounds. The wonder is reached by the lonely ballad "Thou art free" and the very catchy anthem of "Lost my way". The first is the delicacy of a Scandinavian sunset transformed into notes of acoustic beauty and vocalizations like sighs of a solitary lover. In the second, the riffing reveals groove, power with an enveloping rhythm section. Singer Thomas does a great job interpreting and enriching it with cleans on the edge of dark-pop (Depeche Mode). The remaining tracks are beautiful too, where the furious elegance of "Loss" stands out like a scarred yet still solemn, sober, and granitic statue. Prestigious pianos, caresses of classical guitar, and still the deep, guttural screaming sweetly awkward hooked by the really stratospheric closing leads.

A true work, a tormenting journey through lands of gloomy climates, stormy seas, gusty winds. Whispers and screams from a world of infinite melancholy. A perfect soundtrack for a Bergman film.