The Silent Era are Swept Away by a Torrent of Icy Passions in Their Latest Album “Wide And Deep And Cold”

There is no appetite for grief

So feed the faithless lullabies

Soothe all our fears with sweetened words

The rotten gospel you preach

Emerging from the labyrinthine shadows of London, The Silent Era returns with Wide And Deep And Cold, an album that deftly grapples with the paradox of silence amid a cacophonous age. While silent films—a touchstone for goth and post-punk aficionados—conveyed depths of emotion without uttering a word, The Silent Era inverts this notion, flooding that monochrome aesthetic with waves of reverb and distortion. Those expressionist masterpieces, with their exaggerated gestures and stark chiaroscuro, have long whispered their influence into dark corners of music history. Yet, it’s worth recalling that their power lay in silence, in the unsaid and the unseen.

In this latest offering, The Silent Era transmutes their brooding intensity into a sonic storm that is anything but quiet. Their soundscape is a turbulent blend of dark shoegaze textures layered over a relentless post-punk heartbeat, each track swelling like a sonic echo of a silent film’s gasp—now amplified and unrestrained. Each member of this spectral quartet weaves their unique origins into the fabric of the music, culminating in an industrial-goth fusion that boldly refuses to hold its tongue. Unlike those cinematic muses whose ghosts haunt the silver screen, The Silent Era speaks volumes, crafting an immersive experience that is as much a homage to the power of silence as it is a defiant break from it.

Bri Macanas leads with otherworldly, ethereal vocals that twist between vulnerability and defiance, while Chris Schwarten’s guitar lines crash like dark waves. Nicolas Zappa lays down a bassline that thrums with urgency, and Jo Eiffes drives it all forward, drumbeats pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark. Their sound straddles somewhere between the brooding wail of Chelsea Wolfe and the power ballads from Ann Wilson of Heart, the hard industrial drive of NIN, the dreamlike weight of Deftones, and the emotional charge of The Cure. It’s a sound born of longing and lament, a dive into the deeper recesses of human experience, embracing heavy rhythms and ghostly echoes.

Boldy beginning with the title track, Wide And Deep And Cold, unfolds the album with a wordless, whispering wail, echoing as if seeping through old walls or drifting down airwaves—soft, dissonant murmurs carrying a chill. On The Run unleashes a torrent of powerful vocals and swirling guitars, a relentless rush that captures the haunting weight of unforeseen consequences, with fate’s shadow ever at hand. The lyrics deliver a fierce indictment of sweet-tongued deceivers—those silver-tongued charmers whose words evaporate like mist, leaving no refuge from the approaching storm. The track paints a vivid picture of being pursued, cornered, ensnared by shattered promises and beguiling lies. Macanas’ voice emerges as a formidable force, soaring above the lush shoegaze basslines and dissonance, echoing the raw edge of Sonic Youth.

Next, Vendetta moves more into metal realms as it seethes with a stark portrayal of smoldering feuds and the sting of unresolved grudges. Anger lies coiled, hissing beneath polite façades, driving a relentless grudge that won’t rest, can’t forgive. It crackles with bitterness, echoing the ache of old wounds, dashed hopes, and the fierce yearning to escape a ruinous past. Scars linger like stubborn reminders, clinging to every beat. There are echoes of classic 80s stadium rock; INXS comes to mind with this one.

With its industrial goth rhythms, Matter of Time broods over the inexorable march toward mortality. It hums with resignation, whispering the truth of ticking clocks and paths fated to meet their end. Longing pulses through the search for solace, grappling with the unknown’s abyss. Forgotten souls, prayers unanswered, the weight of time relentless—despair threads through each breath, yearning for a purpose that often slips away.

Imbued with a jazzy alt-rock swagger, Strange To Me thrums with the ache of entrapment, capturing the raw strain of a soul ensnared in a toxic web. Frustration flares, exhaustion drips like rain from a weary roof. The speaker wades through deception’s mire, fighting to cling to fragments of reality. Images of being yanked, spun, suffocated in confusion paint a vivid storm of longing—for release, for clarity, for a calm that seems far off.

Peur slips in with its eerie windy wails; a trembling bridge to the ethereal gothic metal cries of Dead of Night, where purity becomes a prayer murmured in the dark. Redemption feels distant, guilt clings like stubborn mud. An inner battle roils, past wrongs refusing to rinse away. Hopes for a beacon flicker, but dread drapes over everything—a haunting sense of destiny creeping in the still night air, whispering consequences yet to come.

Paradise Beach dives headlong into the brooding realms of post-punk and alternative rock, embodying a profound sense of longing and sorrow. The guitar strumming weaves a haunting thread through the track, each chord echoing the emotional turmoil of losing someone dearly cherished. The vocals convey a journey through darkness, burdened by heartache and the painful necessity of letting go.

Desperation and an intense yearning for reunion are starkly juxtaposed against a backdrop of uncertainty. Waves of regret and unresolved feelings threaten to engulf, mirroring the struggle against an overwhelming tide. The song captures the raw essence of being pulled under by emotions yet fighting desperately to stay afloat.

Cliffs opens with guitars that wail with haunting romance, leading into sultry vocals that smolder over percussion that crescendos into icy, powerful heights. The track then cascades into the old-school post-punk shivers of Oscillations, a stirring exploration of cycles spinning endlessly within a stormy relationship. Unkept promises and raw upheavals rise and fall, circling back like waves against stubborn shores.

The lyrics convey a wrestling with the grind of recurring letdowns, marveling at the madness while growing weary of the same tired trials. Fatigue settles in, yet there’s a flicker of reflection—a pause, a breath, a hesitant step toward forgiveness. Still, recognition looms: these rhythms are not new, these echoes familiar, the same voices murmuring old cautions. It’s a tale of repetition where the dance between hope and resignation never quite finds resolution.

Raining, Again closes the album with a final instrumental, a dreamy and ghostly outro bringing to mind Cocteau Twins and Dead Can Dance. Overall, this album is extraordinary and defies easy categorization, but captures the zeitgeist with its beautiful, ambitious artistry.

Listen to Wide And Deep And Cold below – or your preferred service here.

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