With their debut album Teach Me To Cry, released in 2022, Sexblood laid the foundations for a strong universe of nostalgia, sinister references and theatrical gothic gimmicks. Catchy, effective gothic rock, made with passion and a definite respect for codes - in short, the ideal way to cool your veins after dark. Intimidating Visions picks up where their predecessor left off, continuing along the same tortuous path strewn with graves that fans of The Mission, The Sisters of Mercy, Rosetta Stone and The Fields of the Nephilim should appreciate so much.
With its plaintive, sepulchral vocals, catchy riffs and otherworldly reverberations, Sexblood has no equal when it comes to setting the scene. The heady I Choose to Live in Hate kicks off the album at a frenetic pace. The tracks are short, rising from their tombs, biting with frightening precision and returning to earth in one powerful hit after another. Time is Running Out, they tell us: Sexblood have no time to dawdle and, as if propelled forward by an inhabited bass, line up irresistible refrains and melancholy melodies that immediately lodge themselves in your head.
Sexblood's charm lies in their indefinable ability to make music that's immediately familiar, made with real passion and skill, and which is a joy to listen to: with all its morgue, restrained outbursts of rage, superb cinematographic atmospheres and bad looks, Sexblood are diabolically cool and provide instant regressive pleasure. And yet, between the unifying tracks (Out of the Dark, Doctor Death inspired by serial killer surgeon Harold Shipman - recalling the theme of the track Bad Priest on the previous album and the mask of social acceptability that hides the worst horrors, Dark Side of Paradise and its screeching guitars), Sexblood have a few delectable side-steps in store for us.
On rare occasions, the pace slows and the Mulhousians move into more haunted territory, to great effect. The spooky atmosphere of The Dust is irresistible, the spectral melancholy of the synths on Walpurgis Night and its grandiloquent and indispensable organ, and there's a very successful finale where, on Maudit Carillonneur, Sexblood try their hand at French. The lyrics are well crafted, the vocals are strikingly emphatic and the funeral heaviness is sumptuous: this second album ends with a sinister masterstroke of darkness that we're only too happy to succumb to.
