(Andy Synn encourages you to embrace the mellifluous black magic of Miserere Luminis)
I have no problem at all acknowledging that one thing I’m not great at is making predictions… or, at least, a certain kind of prediction.
There have been bands that I was sure would see massive success who have continued to labour in obscurity for years after what should have been their break-out moment, just as there have been bands who have suddenly blown up out of nowhere… even though that’s exactly where I expected them to go.
But while I’m not all that good at prophesying future fame and success (honestly, I’m not even sure what “success” looks like for bands these days, as most of the old metrics have been rednered obsolete) I like to think I’m at least pretty good at scrying out those albums, regardless of genre, that have the requisite depth and potency to have real staying power.
And Sidera is definitely one of them.
If you’re unfamiliar with the band’s previous work – 2009’s self-titled debut and 2023’s outstanding Ordalie – it might be worth familiarising yourself with the latter at the very least (which you can read more about here) as understanding where they came from is key to understanding who, and where, they are now.
Drawing comparisons with the likes of both Schammasch and Panzerfaust, Anomalie and – perhaps most intriguingly (and, as it turns out, propetically) – Ulver, the band’s most recent work prior to Sidera was an alchemical blend of atmospheric, melodic, but most of all cathartic, Black Metal that ended up being one of the finest releases of 2023.
And on their third album, set for release tomorrow, the band have dived even deeper into this sound, immersimg the listener (and themselves) in waves of shimmering atmosphere and keening melody, rich, commanding riffage and dynamic, complex drum work (the clever percussive patterns underpinning each song are one of the album’s many highlights), all topped off with a scorching series of harrowing, heart-wrenching howls that express both venom and vulnerability in equal measure.
On paper, of course, that may seem like a familiar formula… but Miserere Luminis imbue each and every song with so much of their own unique magic – from the glimmering melancholy and gorgeously gloomy ambience of opener “Les fleurs de l’exil” all the way through to the electrifying shimmer ‘n’ shudder of “Dans la voie de nos lumières” (which, with its seemingly effortless combination of breathtaking melodic beauty and electrifying metallic energy, feels like a more “blackened” and brooding cousin to the best works of Alcest or Anathema) – that there’s never any question as to the band’s ability or their individuality.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this, to my ears at least, is the way the group have expanded upon the almost Ulver-esque elements previously showcasd on tracks like “Les Couleurs De La Perte” and “De Venin Et D’os”, with parts of “De cris & de cendres” (especially its sombre, shadowy outro), “Aux bras des vagues & des vomissures”, and the many moody, ambient passages which punctuate “À la douleur de l’aube”, being particularly reminiscent of the gloomy, orchestral glamour of their Messe I.X-VI.X era.
As you may have already guessed, for all that its biting blastbeats and chilling tremolo lines are more than capable of leaving just as many lasting wounds as any of their more “kvlt” compatriots, Miserere Luminis are far from your “standard” or “orthodox” Black Metal band – indeed, there’s going to be a certain type of listener who will, due to their intensely introspective and emotive nature, probably deny that they’re “truly” Black Metal at all (and I think we all know how that goes by now) – but that, in many ways, is to the group’s credit, as they resolutely refuse to be limited or defined by such a narrow vision.
So don’t let this one pass you by… or you’ll be missing out on one of the most captivating albums of the year.