Denver’s drear-draped darkwavers, Devoratus, step out of the shadows once again with Vida Irreal (Unreal Life), a three-track EP that walks the razor-thin line between the ethereal and the eerie. With a mix of wry wit and blues-soaked melancholy, the EP unfolds like a twilight stroll down a bilingual boulevard of ghostly musings. As summer exhales its last breath, this release channels the band’s signature spell of irresistible gloom—a decaying tapestry woven from the echoes of contemporaries such as Forever Grey, Lebanon Hanover, She Past Away, and Buzz Kull. A spectral symphony of synth and sorrow, the record is soaked in a decaying gothic romanticism that hangs heavy in the night air.
Behind the shroud is Tomas, the architect of these somber soundscapes, whose chilling melodies and brooding vocals glide through the EP like a shadow in a cemetery. Aero’s synths pulse with a dark, danceable energy, while Renee’s basslines anchor the songs, drawing together the threads of this melancholic mosaic.
Cold Night, the EP’s opener, is an icy, jangling piece sung in Spanish that feels like the moody cousin to the melancholic musings of Los Prisioneros and Soda Stereo. The song’s atmosphere glistens like a chandelier in a haunted mansion, lingering long after the final note fades, like the restless spirits of a sleepless night. Tomas’s voice, soaked in sorrow, reverberates with the forlorn frequencies of The Sound, Chameleons, and The Damned’s Phantasmagoria—a gothic lament that gnaws at the marrow of the soul.
Then comes Mal, plunging further into Spanish post-punk shadows. Opening with a shimmering synth that dances above the resonant throb of bass and echoing vocals, the song offers a dissonant yet dreamy hook. It flutters like a moth to a flame, a fleeting tango with memories as ephemeral as a candle’s flicker in a cold, drafty room.
Closing the trilogy is Vampira, a tribute to the horror icon and first modern Goth. This track pulls Devoratus firmly back into the dim-lit realms of contemporary darkwave, where the backbeat and synth lines are reminiscent of a Twin Tribes cut if helmed by Dave Vanian or Dracula himself. A mournful Spanish ballad, Vampira conjures visions of nocturnal phantoms and creatures of the twilight, each note steeped in both reverie and remorse.
Listen to Vida Irreal below:
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