Finally got around to publishing my notes on Paradise Lost, which I read with the Classics Book Club on Reddit.
https://sofiabelen.github.io/literature/paradise-lost-a-christian-upbringing-lens/
#Bookstodon #ParadiseLost #Milton #ClassicLiterature #BookClub
Wenn Namen wie #Ulver, #ParadiseLost oder #Hexvessel fallen, und das nicht unter dem Label 'inspiriert von' sondern 'spielte in', kann es eigentlich nur echt gut sein. Ist nicht meine Wohlfühlmusik weil ich nicht angeschrien werde, trifft aber meinen aktuellen Gemütszustand ziemlich gut.
#Musiktip #NowPlaying #LiminalSky #AllTomorrowsDarkness #ASolitaryFuture #PostRock
9 track album
In a week where I was forced to bail on my half of a double review of Warning’s righteous comeback due to time constraints, a new band from Italy found their way into my ears and heart, offering succor and sweet redemption. In Vespro play doom-death in the vein of early Katatonia, Paradise Lost, and my much beloved Rapture. On their Where Silence Used to Sleep debut, they pull out all the stops to make a tried-and-true style sound as fresh in 2026 as it did back in 1993. Featuring members of Svart Vinter and Veil of Conspiracy,1 In Vespro demonstrate a firm grasp of the sadboi essentials, crafting anthems to despair, loss, and hopelessness with hooks that stick in your swollen tear ducts and keep you hanging around for all the weepy unhappiness. That’s how you get Steel in the yard to have a good cry!
As soon as opener “Fading Hollow” takes flight, you’re cast back to Katatonia’s Brave Murder Day era for a sullen simmer in the crockpot of eternal sadness. It’s instantly likeable and after a few spins, lovable. The morose riffs and glum harmonies conjure the melancholies, and frontman Luca Gagnoni’s vocals are perfect; no clean singing, just a wounded death roar. Can you complain that it’s too close to the Brave Murder Day sound? No, because that way madness lies. “Ghost Inside Tomorrow” is like a long-lost Rapture song, and that gets my full attention. The heaving, sighing guitars also bear the pungent stench of prime Paradise Lost. “Absence Becomes Her” keeps the dour times rolling with an upbeat pace, but the mood remains despondent, even when they spice things up with some unexpectedly noodly guitar work.
By the album’s mid-point, I was so impressed that I started to doubt the second half could keep pace. It does, with killer cuts like “Beneath the Unseen,” which feels deceptively simple on first exposure, led by some very Paradise Lost-adjacent guitar lines, but it does just enough with the classic melodoom formula to make things percolate with pain and remorse. “Ashes of the Dawn” is another textbook example of how to write effective melodoom and make it stick to the ribs. It’s unhurried and grim, but the melody in the weepy guitars carries you along effortlessly from segment to segment. “The Last Light” could’ve fallen off the back of the Draconian Times tour van, so you know that’s a win. Happily, no song feels like filler, and the album functions well as a whole. At a tight, trim 40 minutes and with all songs in the 3-5 minute window, the album moves at a near-perfect pace, and no song overstays its welcome. In fact, several cuts are all the better for their brevity, leaving you wanting more. The production is great with a warm sound and a mix that allows the guitars the weight and space they need for maximum effect, while leaving plenty of room for everything else to breathe.
The guitar tandem of Luca Gagnoni and Emanuaels Marino is a talented one, spinning somber leads that submerge the soul in icy grave water. The harmonies are subtle but impactful and funerary, and the sudden flashes of semi-wanky solos are a nice surprise. Gagnoni is aces as a melodoom vocalist, moving effectively between early days Jonas Renkse and Nick Holmes death bellows and more acerbic blackened wails. There’s no clean singing whatsoever, only occasional spoken word segments. This isn’t an issue, but a few forlorn singing stanzas would make for a nice change-up. If there’s a complaint to be made, it’s how close In Vespro cleave to their obvious influences. It’s impossible to spin this and not hear Katatonia and Rapture looming large in the writing, but when it’s done well, does it really matter? The short answer is fook no.
Where Silence Used to Sleep is a very impressive debut from In Vespro, and it’s quite an effective mood piece album. Mark it as one of those unheralded and happy surprises the promo sump vomits forth when the stars align and the tentacles favor the bold. I may have missed my chance to weigh in on Warning, but I caught this dark beauty as a consolation prize. Life is good (and sad).
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music
Websites: invespro.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/invesprodoom | instagram.com/invespro_doommetal
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026
It’s not that often that I’ll have difficulty talking about an album that’s hitting its 20 year anniversary soon. In the case of Watching from a Distance, the second (and at the time, final) album from UK doom metal (then-) trio Warning, giving words to the atmosphere, the weight, and the aching hurt emanating from these five songs proved to be more than daunting. It’s not that often that you come across an album that feels like a sonic gutpunch that just doesn’t stop punching you into emotional submission, and guitarist/vocalist/mainman Patrick Walker did so effortlessly. It’s hard to not feel something while listening to the album, then or now. It’s this encapsulation of utter sadness and yearning that would influence many since, and what better time than now to induct Watching from a Distance into the Halls of the Olde?
Warning didn’t come from the more Gothic sounds of their contemporaries (and fellow YMIO inductees) Anathema, My Dying Bride, or Paradise Lost. Lyrically, they also couldn’t be more different. Whereas not many people could sing about fighting the gods like Darren White did, nor can we all take Aaron Stainthorpe’s hand or do we all have the ability to opaque the dissident establishment that we all suffer like Nick Holmes,1 we’ve all encountered the aftermath of a break-up or losing a loved one. If you haven’t, rest assured it’s coming, and no one can articulate the sheer crushing feeling that comes with that like Walker does here, and it’s especially not at the level of maturity he exhibited. No fingers pointed, no blame assigned, no good/bad person(s) to smear… just the aftermath, the pain that comes with it, and the knowledge (or lack thereof) of what to do next to move on.
Take the devastatingly heartbreaking “Bridges,” in which there’s very little variation between riffs and percussive patterns, and that’s on purpose: the rhythm section of bassist Marcus Hatfield and drummer Stuart Springthorpe knew to keep things plodding and controlled by design, further accentuating the repetitive riffs and lyrics of Walker’s. Speaking of, each verse ends with Walker achingly bellowing “I wish you were here with me tonight,” with each passing verse more dire and heartwrenching than the last, with the final pass preceded by “Can someone feel too much?” Tear-inducing on its own, but when it’s immediately followed by Walker harmoniously bellowing towards the end, those who are unprepared2 will be reduced to a quivering pile of sobs. Emotionally decimating.
The other four songs also float by with the grace and delicacy of a cinder block thrown right at your heart and emotions. The closing combo of “Faces” and “Echoes” do a fine job of further bringing the sorrow and pain, with the former lamenting a sense of normalcy amongst the crumble of a failed relationship, while the latter recalls pleasant memories of what was, but will never be again. However, it’s the opening one-two suckerpunch of the title track and “Footprints” that everyone remembers, and with good reason. The title track feels like a moment in time where Walker sees the wreckage of a the relationship and sees what he remembers are the good qualities, but it’s far too late to turn back the clock and repair the damage. And “Footprints”… man, fuck “Footprints” so much. At first a bit more upbeat than “Watching from a Distance,” all seemingly feels almost uplifting when suddenly Walker bares all in the song’s final few minutes, complete with a desperate delivery, complete with an emotionally charged voice that cracks and warbles in a broken manner that I made the mistake of listening to it the first time on my way home from work, and I had to pull over to partake in the ugliest of purging crying sessions. It’s ultra-rare that doom metal can make me feel that way, and Walker and company succeeded in accomplishing this in spades.
It was a sad time when Walker disbanded Warning in 2009, due to the simplest of reasons: artistic integrity and keeping his vision intact, forming the formidable 40 Watt Sun, an acoustic continuation of what Warning achieved. However, with their influence driving the likes of Pallbearer and Khemmis (among others), it was only a matter of time before Warning would return with Hatfield in tow, and now with their long-awaited third album, Rituals of Shame, on the horizon, it’s only fitting to induct Watching from a Distance in the Halls of the Olde. Give this a listen, but bring tissues.
#40WattSun #Anathema #Khemmis #MyDyingBride #Pallbearer #ParadiseLost #Warning #WatchingFromADistance #YerMetalIsOlde
Huch! das kam jetzt unerwartet
#TillLindemann - Es brennt... (Doomfire Version mit Greg Mackintosh)
Greg ist der Gitarrist von #ParadiseLost, einer englischen #DoomDeath-Band, deren Album Icon mich Mitte der 90er musikalisch geprägt hat.
Wie geht das mit #Lindemann zusammen?
Kurz gesagt: Gar nicht.
Auf einer 1A-DoomMetal-Basis liegt - völlig deplatziert - Lindemanns Gesang, der sich so rein gar nicht auf das stilistische Experiment einlässt, und einfach nur sein #Rammstein-Ding durchzieht.
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