Beacon of foul light carry us forth into the great beyond
The veil is lifted, black light spilling
Burning obsidian star
Athens has always seemed like the sort of city where the old gods might still be loitering behind the clubs, smoking clove cigarettes and waiting for somebody to plug in a guitar loud enough to wake the Kraken. On Burning Obsidian Star, Greek goth rockers Reflection Black come on like alchemists turning ritual into rhythm, hauling myth, mortality, and a little metal-bred menace.
Too many bands dabble in the occult like they bought the Cliff’s Notes for The Lesser Key of Solomon. Reflection Black sounds like they have actually spent some time in a dungeon with these ideas, letting them stain the walls and seep into the songs. The whole album carries itself with conviction, but not the kind that turns pompous and topples over under its own robes.
Reflection Black have influences all over the place: The Sisters of Mercy, The Damned (particularly in their Phantasmagoria era), The Mission, a little of that newer cemetery-club cool, and yes, some steel in the spine from older metal, but they never sound like record collectors playing dress-up. They sound hungry, focused, and a little dangerous in the way all good gothic rock should.
Dreams Fade to Nothing opens the album with the kind of hook that knows exactly how to plant itself in your head and redecorate. From there, the band move with a cool, deliberate gait, letting the guitars carve sharp lines while the synths mass in the distance like storm fronts over stone ruins. The rhythm section keeps everything taut and driving, never overplaying, never wandering off in search of some grand statement. That discipline gives the songs their force. Nobody is showing off for the mirror; they are too busy building the mood and keeping it alive.
The Architect in Slumber reaches into Lovecraftian dread without turning into costume drama, which is harder than most groups seem to realize. It has scale, it has pressure, and it has a voice at the center that lands with enough gravity to keep the whole thing from floating off into gothic pageantry. The title track is where the album really bares its teeth.
Burning Obsidian Star swings harder, drags in blackened edges, and gives the band room to show how comfortably they can move between post-punk tension and heavier instincts without sounding confused about who they are. It is a hymn for people who’d kiss the apocalypse on the mouth and call it communion. These lyrics turn annihilation into ascension, with fire as sacrament and the black star as cruel saviour. Flesh chars, blood boils, mouths fill with ash, and somehow the whole damned thing still glows with ecstatic purpose.
Alex offers insight into the theme of Wonders of Night: “Nyx…according to Orphic Theogony, is a primordial force from which the universe has spawned. She is considered the mother of several divine beings, but also breeds a number of primordial negative forces like Thanatos, Nemesis and Eris.” In that lineage, the song finds its gravity. It carries the sense of standing before something older than doctrine, older than daylight.
Burning Obsidian Star is a strong, fully formed album by a band that seem to know exactly where they’re headed, even if the destination happens to be a boat ride with Charon to the underworld.
Listen to Burning Obsidian Star below and order the album here.
Follow Reflection Black:
Or via: