The Aloïs Demos

Anthemon was a French atmospheric gothic-doom metal band which recorded three albums in the early 2000s, worth listening for their rich sound and elaborate songwriting. However, perhaps for not being at the right time, at the right place, the sextet never managed to get the attention it would have deserved and eventually split up in 2007. At that time a fourth album was underway, which a few years later the former bandmembers decided to digitally release in its unfinished form, under the name The Aloïs Demos.

So, that’s precisely the issue: it’s unfinished. These “demos” could hardly be considered even as an early, raw version of the album, but rather as partial recordings of the songs in a more or less advanced state. All tracks at least feature rhythm guitars and drums; for the most elementary of them, nothing more. Some others sound almost finished, complete with bass, lead guitars and occasional keyboards, like Ink Black Life Lines. The vocals lines, however, are in any case missing, lead singer Loïc Malassagne having left at that point, and bassist/growler Marc Canlers probably having thought the work was not advanced enough to record his parts – or perhaps the final album wasn’t supposed to feature any growls, who knows. It is also unclear if the songs order is the one originally intended; the first track, short and half acoustic, could indeed work as an intro, but it may also be that the most advanced recordings were put at the beginning; the more one progresses through the tracklist, the more said tracks sound raw and incomplete. One even ends abruptly (The Nowhere Trip); whether it was intended or not is, once again, unknown.

Granted, when listening to these embryos of songs, it seems like the final result would have been fantastic. The two tracks which sound the closest from completion, Ink Black Life Lines and When Passion Became a Scar, suggest Anthemon’s songwriting had been taken to a further level of ambition. Complex songs, but much better structured than on previous effort Kadavreski, which reeked a tad too much of a superfluous exercise in novelty. Sure, this is not big bad doom, in spite of this My Dying Bride-esque riff opening Knowledge Provided Clarity. Anthemon’s strengths have always lied elsewhere. A certain ease for crafting memorable melodies, a subtle use of piano and acoustic guitars to enhance the melancholic atmosphere without ever sounding cheesy, and this too rare ability to cleverly surprise the listener – think of these Hammond organ bits on the two aforementioned tracks, or the inclusion of industrial samples on The Unperfect Mechanics. “Aloïs” was supposed to be a concept album about the fictional life of some mysterious genius, a good pretext to explore various soundscapes, and this variety can already be felt in its current state of recording.

But reflecting on how grand the final album could have become does not make its aborted foetus more viable. If anything, it only adds to the frustration. Listening to seven-minutes-long guitar-and-drums patterns, even from skilled musicians, is nothing fascinating. A few songs may still work as instrumentals on their own, like, again, the epic Ink Black Life Lines, even if the absence of vocals is obvious, or the shortest tracks, probably intended as interludes: Genesis of a Renewal – gloomy pounding bass and squeaking leads inside – and Twists of History, a predominantly piano song which seems to have been purposely written as an instrumental.

Again, Anthemon was an unfairly overlooked great band. Now, if you want to hear the real thing, check Arcanes or Dystopia, and abandon these scraps to the few uncurable completists.

Highlights: Ink Black Life Lines, When Passion Became a Scar