Charlotte Wessels is on a journey. After the breakup of her band, cult Dutch powerhouses Delain (who are still performing under the same name with an almost entirely new lineup), the multi instrumental artist shaved her head and took to Patreon, releasing a double solo album one song at a time to her fans. Now the dust has settled, she’s ready to release what feels like her ‘real’ first solo record, simultaneously an epilogue to her time in Delain and an introduction to a new chapter in her career.
Of course, there’s elements of her earlier sound on this record. How could she avoid that? Especially considering she has three members of her former band as her backup. But there’s a sense that what we’ve seen from her up until now – mostly bouncy euro power metal mixed with with piano-heavy emotional solos – is only part of the story. This is less an album and more a collection of symphonies that attempt to evoke the vast potential of a theatre on the moon, and that’s a compliment. Dramatic without giving in to the desire to drift into over-twiddly prog, this is the road-less-travelled for the entire Delain project. Fans of the complexities that can be poorly encompassed by the label ‘metal’ will rejoice, as will aficionados of the ‘all-conquering yet sensitive frontwoman’ sound.
From the get-go, there’s a driving ambition that practically beams out from every chord. Opening track and early single drop ‘Chasing Sunsets’ features catchy hooks, crashing guitars and enough delicious layers to make this the musical equivalent of a mille crepe cake. “I might not make you feel good, but I will make you feel something,” Wessels promises, and she makes a good point: whether you’re into her sound or not, you can’t help but admire just how much has gone into it. Simone Simons of Epica adds operatic wails to ‘Dopamine’, a fast paced, late night tribute to everyone’s favourite chemical. Moody, piano heavy ‘Soulstice’ is wintry, choral comfort. So far, so expected.
It’s when Wessels starts to break away from her established groove that things begin to get really interesting. ‘The Exorcism’ is a slow burner, growing over it’s five minutes from artic murmuring to a full, gutsy scream, dipping in between determined meditations and rage. ‘Crying Room’s dives into electronic hums make the sunshine guitar squeals even brighter in comparison. Alissa White-Gluz of Arch Enemy’s appearance on the cinematic ‘Ode To The West Wind’ fuels a pleasurably compact narrative that slinks into the sophisticated struggle of ‘Serpentine’. It seems as though Wessels is walking a tightrope on this release between wanting to put out the songs that take you through a kaleidoscopic drama and ones that are more guaranteed to provide the catchy, memorable setlist moments when she tours this autumn, and blend she’s created between the two seems to be working.
As a finale, in what feels like a thank you note to her devotees who’ve stuck with her, fan favourite solo track ‘Soft Revolution’ gets a ‘(2024)’ suffix and full studio treatment. “I call for a soft revolution instead of a war,” she sings as her manifesto. She’s not going to announce hostilities against her former band and previous musical output. She’s going to remake her sound with euphoric string and, make her call to arms through infinite emotional tweaks through backing vocals with enough space for classic metal guitar solos. It’s a seven minute epic, with a subtle shift from ‘I’ to ‘We’ halfway through to make it clear how much she values her friends and supporters.
This is a bold first statement from Wessels. It’s a line in the sand about where she’s come from and where she wants to go, interesting enough to capture casual listeners but with enough warmth and gratitude to enthuse her fanbase, with a lot to like and a whole lot more with which to intrigue the metal scene.
Kate Allvey