Photo by Mickael Auffret
What else can one utter about a band named Dead. that their moniker doesn’t proclaim outright? These French purveyors of sonic chaos summon an aura drenched in darkness before a single sound spills forth. Yet, when their music strikes, it conjures an even more formidable force—a wild, rhythmic reckoning. If Dead aren’t already plotting the planet’s collapse, they’ve surely composed its grim anthem. Stark, unyielding, yet wielding grooves so deep they pulse with command.
After four long years since their latest EP, Dead. reemerges with Paradise, their new album steeped in coldwave, laced with electronic pulses, and layered with shoegaze echoes. Influences ripple through, from The Soft Moon’s brooding beats to A Place To Bury Strangers’ sonic storms, and the poetic cadence of Anne Clark. It’s hypnotic, enigmatic, unearthly—a storm murmuring beneath a steady, quietly menacing heartbeat.
“In heaven, dreams are dreams,” says the band. “In heaven, secrets sleep and time runs. Clear, rippling waters reflect the heavens. The wind is a choir. Beyond the veil of earthly conflicts, there is this realm, both near and far, where souls rise, like the evening star.”
Backwards speaks with the solemn clarity of reckoning, laying bare the collapse of human ambition and a planet in its dying throes. It sings of steadfast companionship, a vow whispered across unraveling time, to stand together even as earth falls apart, dreaming of solace somewhere in the stars—a peace free of pain and loss. Hints of hope flicker through the chaos, like an echo of an old INXS tune suffused with the raw grit of a Nine Inch Nails undertone.
Two Thousand Years resonates like a somber sermon with the hypnotic motorik beats of The Soft Moon, the weight of consequence pressing heavily, underscoring how our endings are carved from our choices, not luck. The song speaks of releasing burdens, letting fall the forgotten oaths, and leaning into the fleeting pleasures of now, a resigned yet resolute embrace of the present.
Angels, with its shuddering alt-rock guitar tones, trembles on the tightrope between faith and yearning, grappling with a longing for proof of something unseen, something felt but never found. The hope of a brush with the divine haunts the edges, always teasing, never tangible, a dance of doubt wrapped in the promise of the unreachable.
Edena is an industrial lament, mourning a lost sanctuary, echoing with the ache of an old heart, heavy and desperate for Eden’s embrace. The night stretches endless and cold, the pulse slow and tired, craving warmth and peace that remain a dream, a distant and unyielding vision. It’s hypnotic, enigmatic, strange yet simmering with a quiet, biting insistence.
What, with its baroque cinematic elegance, muses on the grind of time, piling trials and unanswered questions, lamenting the weight of missed moments and warnings disregarded. The weariness of existence seeps through, a resigned nod to chances squandered. The guitar work on this track is classic gothic rock, slicing the cold atmosphere of the song with icy grace.
Bliss unfolds like a reverie, pulsating and swirling with dark electronic rhythms—at times sparse, reminiscent of traversing a slender bridge laid with industrial shoegaze, stretching over an expansive landscape of resonant guitars. It evokes a memory rich with unbounded joy and seamless unity—lovers entwined, dreams intact, the world basking in a pristine tranquility. The portrait is radiant, untouched by shadows, yet a haunting sense of finality lingers, as if this beauty was always fated to fade, inevitably overshadowed by the reality of endings.
Opening with synth pulses reminiscent of the effervescent beats of Kraftwerk, We Were emerges from a haze of ethereal tones, leading into piercing guitar wails that slice through the air. The track unfolds with its hushed spoken word vocals, charting a journey from bold swagger to the sobering reality of reckless choices. Flames once sparked by youthful bravado now leave nothing but smoldering embers and ash beneath our feet, stark reminders of the consequences that linger. That once-unshakeable sense of invincibility begins to crumble, laying bare the fragility that lies beneath—an inherent vulnerability we all share, shaped and scarred by the fires we ignite.
The album closes with the somber romance of Bird Song, a bleak wall of noise and melancholic tones that frames love as an elusive, near-mystical force—a sister to the night, softly born from whispers of light yet fierce enough to fan wild desires. It’s tender yet tenacious, bending but never breaking, enduring betrayal, and ebbing under stars, only to renew with morning’s blush. A persistent yearning echoes, hands outstretched for a touch in the darkness, grasping for that fleeting spark of connection that seems ever out of reach. Love dances, defies, and dares in that delicate, dazzling interplay between dusk and dawn.
Listen to Paradise at the link below or order here.
Catch Dead. live:
Follow Dead:
We are makers of masks, artisans of our own disguises, shaping and shading ourselves to be seen, accepted, or remembered.…
Here we are on a stakeout, stakeout I don’t see a way out, way out And if you’re bent to…
Glazyhaze, Italy’s youthful maestros of shoegaze and dreampop, summon melodies that pull listeners straight into the blissed-out haze of the…
Dark Disco presents the 3rd Annual Oddities Market, a feverish gathering of fierce performances and pounding DJ sets, all unfolding…
Modern post-punk creatives Cyborg Amok are gearing up for a another go, this time bringing along an impressive ensemble of…
Siphonophores, those curious architects of the deep, drift through the endless expanse of oceanic blackness, each a patchwork of parts,…