Doctrine

happened to Sombre Chemin as the music here is very clear and actually quite bright and positive in its general orientation. If you only know the early recordings and were expecting something with a filthy sound and a punk BM style, this album will surprise you.

A clear melodic Burzumesque influence is present in the melodies and the riffing, the simple keyboard melodies (even if they are washed out) and in the general minimalist repetitive pop structure of some of the tracks. The sandpaper vocals might be the only really major depressive element on this album, being set far back in the mix and usually cloaked in reverb. The percussion may not be very remarkable but do enough to sustain the music which by turns can be dramatic, lively and even very triumphal. The minimalist grinding guitars with the occasional tremolo lead solo are dominant throughout the recording and sustain its flow and energy.

No doubt after their early murkier period these guys are in a celebratory mood on their full-length debut, even if their lyrics beg to differ as they promise to bring destruction to our current world so that a new, supposedly more authentic world, cleansed of corruption and racially and ethnically pure, can take its place: the music exalts in its frenzy, massive scale and aggression, and within the limits of its sonic make-up and range can be a glory to hear and follow. The vocalist doesn't so much sing with feeling as erupt with a life-force far beyond the one he was born with. The keyboard wash tones magnify the force powering the music and aggression. Where slower, more contemplative moments appear, their sorrow seems all the more deeply felt.

All the tracks are quite good and they're best followed as chapters in one all-embracing work. A surprise is "Pan est mort", a darkly industrial ambient instrumental with deep sinister machine rhythms and sounds, led by a hissing high-pressure water hose drone and a one-finger synth melody: the title suggests this is a lament to the destruction of nature thanks to humanity's thoughtless actions over the centuries. "Rien qu'une volonte" ("Nothing but a desire") is a long tortured piece of howling vocal and rapid spoken voice though the music itself is steady. The singing rounds off with a punkish cover of French 1980s neo-Nazi band Bunker 84's "Les feux de joie" ("Lights of Joy") which sits oddly with the rest of the album: it's an awkward angular song with a garage ambience.

I don't care much for the National Socialist theme of the lyrics but you don't have to be ideologically aligned with SC to thrill to the music as the emotion and anger fuelling it come from a frustration with modern Western neoliberal capitalist society and its ills, and how it rewards a small minority handsomely while everyone else is forced to fight for the crumbs left behind. Much the same could be said for a lot of BM inspired by other political ideologies. Ultimately the music and the passion with which it is pursued matter and this recording is indeed powerful and passionate.