Psyclon Nine is back with And Then Oblivion, darkening the spring equinox in this far too sunny month of March. After the very well donel Less To Heaven, released nearly three years ago, Nero Bellum, known for his ability to blend aggrotech, black metal and industrial music in a style all his own, resurfaced. He already set the tone, as dark as ever, with his first single I Choose Violence, released a few weeks ago.
Indeed, while the previous album contained a rather melancholy aura in line with his side project Not My God (in which Tim Skold laid down vocals on his compositions), this one takes us dancing in hell. The catchy, danceable art of the first albums resurfaces, but with a mystical, bewitching twist. The lively, accessible sounds oscillate in an endless nightmare. Devil's Work is an entry point into an insidious world driven by obsessive rhetoric : “the devil made me do it” whispers the artist, seemingly complicit in the worst things past and to come. The tension keeps building, the production is perfect, and from the very first listen we feel we've found a new outlet for this world.
If the aggressive rhythms of Locust Of Everything crush us, and those of Say Your Prayers condemn us to the harshest judgment in this reality tinged with black pessimism, the final section takes on a more melancholy velvet, proving that Nero Bellum is as relevant when it comes to invoking the Devil as it is to invoking beauty. The eighth track, Après Toi le Déluge, is the ghostly twin of Après Moi le Déluge (eighth track from the previous opus, also instrumental), making this work an evil mirror of its predecessor. Its layers of piano fluttering in an atmosphere of sad, haunted invocations are the point of communication between these two worlds. The universe, fleshed out, more complex and without false notes, is sure to please old and new fans alike. The final track Taxidermy (if you don't count the hidden one), sung entirely in clear voice, sounds like a desperate ditty with broken wings. “I don't wanna hurt you so push me away” sings a trembling, bitter voice that breaks our hearts. That's the audacity of Psyclon Nine, which makes you want to dance with the devil, and the next minute, you want to cry.
