From the Depths of Sorrow — Listen to Denver Darkwave Outfit Devoratus' "Amissus" EP

In Latin, amissus signifies “loss.” From lost gloves to lost loves, the overarching concept of the ancient word constantly shadows us, reminding of moments gone and opportunities escaped. In this grand theatre of life, we all play the tragic hero, mourning what was once held but exists no longer. Yet, in every “amissus,” perhaps there’s a hidden invitation: to cherish the present, lest today’s treasures become tomorrow’s undiscovered artifacts.

Denver, Colorado darkwave darlings, Devoratus, are making their dramatic debut. Laced with a dash of dry humor and a touch of the blues, they have unveiled their EP, “Amissus.” It’s like opening a window into their bilingual realm of eerie verses. As the warm days bid adieu, this little record is dripping in their classic, irresistible gloom. One might catch echoes of Belgrado, Lebanon Hanover, and Buzz Kull, a sorrowful cocktail of synth, light industrial, and ghostly new wave.

With “Amissus,” Devoratus paints their sentiments, leading us through a hall of endless, empty doorways. It’s a peculiar jaunt into the band’s soul, amplifying that particular melancholic charm of their tunes.

Let’s dive a bit deeper, shall we? The forlorn “Anxiety” evokes the sour stomach and churning mind of a restless night; overthinking at 3 am, every note echoing the beats of an overwrought heart. When we come to the most post-punk “Lost,” we feel that desperate search for a connection, the very core of a memory you can almost touch but never quite hold, much like a love letter hidden in an old book. “Shadows” is a waltz with the ephemeral, dancing with fleeting memories, as transient as the brief shade cast by a noon sun. “Escapar,” with its industrial elements and ominous sound, conjures the passionate heartbeats of someone longing for freedom, the rhythmic pulse of footsteps against cobblestones, evoking a chase scene in an old Spanish noir film.

As for “Distancia,” it’s a lullaby for every missed touch, unsaid word, and longing glance across crowded rooms; a tribute to every ounce of space that keeps hearts apart.