#notmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Now canonized in the church of dark, experimental electronica, Saint Vengeur approaches us in a new(ish) form. In this incarnation, the not-so-latent eroticism of their debut, Par Feu et Par Flammes is laid bare,1 and following singles have continued to show titular Saint Herman Pańkow delving into the psychologies of love, hate, and religion and exorcising related emotional demons. Godless Tonight is the next chapter, and its weirdly disturbing art and title that could read as either condemnatory or liberational, only give some clue as to its contents. With poetry delivered through the conceit of a bizarre play, and a fluid, unlabellable mélange of EBM, darksynth, witch house, and many things between, Godless Tonight explores the inherent cruelty and pain yet also the necessity of love.

Just as you would were we discussing extreme metal, don’t dismiss the relativity when I say that Godless Tonight is less weird than Par Feu. This is still the person who wrote what I originally described as “like […] music composed by an alien.” The cold chimes whose tunefulness drains out of them, synths that burble and distort themselves in and out of haunting refrains erratic, fickle tempos, an overwhelming sense of hostility and tension: all are present. Sometimes, the exact same themes even arise (“451,” “HELLSTAR ANDROMEDA”). But the manner in which these are delivered is more tempered by harmoniousness and navigable groove. This works in step with the album’s mode of execution, as characters variously present musings, throw accusations, make confessions, commands, requests, and proclamations amidst the shifting scenes of seductive and sinister synth, which—intentionally or not—feel directed at you, the audience. Thus a part of the proceedings, one’s ear naturally sympathises to even the strangest and ugliest turns and finds more beauty in the greater abundance of mournful refrains.

The chameleonic nature of Godless Tonight is what makes it so potent. Is it abstraction and maximalism coalescing into a mesmerising, even danceable whole (“PRURIENT SOCIETY,” “HELLSTAR ARNDROMEDA,” “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD”)? Is it deceptively straightforward, hiding the next sudden turn of madness or cruelty (“451,” “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE,” “POOR HOMME (DISCO)”)? Both, it seems. The album’s greater stylistic breadth across the EBM and EDM spectrum nonetheless hinges on Saint Vengeur’s characteristic burbling sulky arpeggios and dissonant synth chords, into which the melancholic, uptempo themes repeatedly dissolve. The melodies are alluring, the beats catchy, the refrains memorable; but the ugliness is never far away, and so the sense of dread and tension rises. Thus, when tracks like “PRURIENT SOCIETY” and “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE” tread the line with hypnotic witch house, their weirdness reads only as beautiful; and when a shivering refrain chimes in midway through “451,” or starts to dominate “(S)LAUGHTER,” it feels like a blessing. By the time you reach “POOR HOMME (DISCO)” and “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD,” you take their irresistible cadence in stride, discomfiting as those voices and keys may be. As Godless Tonight morphs through variously solemn and vicious expressions, the disparity in styles is both more obvious and less troublesome; somehow it all just comes together.

That’s not to say that Saint Vengeur has actually performed a miracle; it’s not all perfect. The tongue-in-cheek self-awareness—the opening speech (“GOOD EVENING”) and playful mockery of our leads that the music is “like a child banging on a xylophone[…]” (“PRURIENT SOCIETY”)—might trigger some soft eye-rolls amongst the less tolerant, and doesn’t itself free Saint Vengeur from the responsibility to deliver compelling music. The oddly broken-up “DEVOURING FEMININE” into “CONFESSION,” somewhat stalls the flow, with the sudden volume of the latter’s sample just a tad jarring. It’s hard to believe, however, that this disturbing interlude is not intended to shake the listener’s complacency. Indeed, with the continual evolutions of the music and shifting dynamics between the speakers (and us), the album—the play ostensibly being performed—feels like a bad trip in a strange club, where you’re dragged into the messiest relationship ever. So while mileage may vary on some of the lyrics and their delivery, Godless Tonight succeeds in its presumed goal of making you squirm.

Godless Tonight, with its addictive rhythms and intricate blending of bizarre and beautiful, is primed to capture even those faintly sympathetic to the weird and electronically expressed. It’s groovy and fun, creepy with a small “c”, and sexy with quite a big “S”. It’s not exactly a palate-cleanser from the heaviness of metal so much as a way to satiate some dark, playful curiosity. I’d take the apple Saint Vengeur offers.

Rating: Very Good
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: stream (of consciousness)
Label: Genom Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Now canonized in the church of dark, experimental electronica, Saint Vengeur approaches us in a new(ish) form. In this incarnation, the not-so-latent eroticism of their debut, Par Feu et Par Flammes is laid bare,1 and following singles have continued to show titular Saint Herman Pańkow delving into the psychologies of love, hate, and religion and exorcising related emotional demons. Godless Tonight is the next chapter, and its weirdly disturbing art and title that could read as either condemnatory or liberational, only give some clue as to its contents. With poetry delivered through the conceit of a bizarre play, and a fluid, unlabellable mélange of EBM, darksynth, witch house, and many things between, Godless Tonight explores the inherent cruelty and pain yet also the necessity of love.

Just as you would were we discussing extreme metal, don’t dismiss the relativity when I say that Godless Tonight is less weird than Par Feu. This is still the person who wrote what I originally described as “like […] music composed by an alien.” The cold chimes whose tunefulness drains out of them, synths that burble and distort themselves in and out of haunting refrains erratic, fickle tempos, an overwhelming sense of hostility and tension: all are present. Sometimes, the exact same themes even arise (“451,” “HELLSTAR ANDROMEDA”). But the manner in which these are delivered is more tempered by harmoniousness and navigable groove. This works in step with the album’s mode of execution, as characters variously present musings, throw accusations, make confessions, commands, requests, and proclamations amidst the shifting scenes of seductive and sinister synth, which—intentionally or not—feel directed at you, the audience. Thus a part of the proceedings, one’s ear naturally sympathises to even the strangest and ugliest turns and finds more beauty in the greater abundance of mournful refrains.

The chameleonic nature of Godless Tonight is what makes it so potent. Is it abstraction and maximalism coalescing into a mesmerising, even danceable whole (“PRURIENT SOCIETY,” “HELLSTAR ARNDROMEDA,” “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD”)? Is it deceptively straightforward, hiding the next sudden turn of madness or cruelty (“451,” “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE,” “POOR HOMME (DISCO)”)? Both, it seems. The album’s greater stylistic breadth across the EBM and EDM spectrum nonetheless hinges on Saint Vengeur’s characteristic burbling sulky arpeggios and dissonant synth chords, into which the melancholic, uptempo themes repeatedly dissolve. The melodies are alluring, the beats catchy, the refrains memorable; but the ugliness is never far away, and so the sense of dread and tension rises. Thus, when tracks like “PRURIENT SOCIETY” and “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE” tread the line with hypnotic witch house, their weirdness reads only as beautiful; and when a shivering refrain chimes in midway through “451,” or starts to dominate “(S)LAUGHTER,” it feels like a blessing. By the time you reach “POOR HOMME (DISCO)” and “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD,” you take their irresistible cadence in stride, discomfiting as those voices and keys may be. As Godless Tonight morphs through variously solemn and vicious expressions, the disparity in styles is both more obvious and less troublesome; somehow it all just comes together.

That’s not to say that Saint Vengeur has actually performed a miracle; it’s not all perfect. The tongue-in-cheek self-awareness—the opening speech (“GOOD EVENING”) and playful mockery of our leads that the music is “like a child banging on a xylophone[…]” (“PRURIENT SOCIETY”)—might trigger some soft eye-rolls amongst the less tolerant, and doesn’t itself free Saint Vengeur from the responsibility to deliver compelling music. The oddly broken-up “DEVOURING FEMININE” into “CONFESSION,” somewhat stalls the flow, with the sudden volume of the latter’s sample just a tad jarring. It’s hard to believe, however, that this disturbing interlude is not intended to shake the listener’s complacency. Indeed, with the continual evolutions of the music and shifting dynamics between the speakers (and us), the album—the play ostensibly being performed—feels like a bad trip in a strange club, where you’re dragged into the messiest relationship ever. So while mileage may vary on some of the lyrics and their delivery, Godless Tonight succeeds in its presumed goal of making you squirm.

Godless Tonight, with its addictive rhythms and intricate blending of bizarre and beautiful, is primed to capture even those faintly sympathetic to the weird and electronically expressed. It’s groovy and fun, creepy with a small “c”, and sexy with quite a big “S”. It’s not exactly a palate-cleanser from the heaviness of metal so much as a way to satiate some dark, playful curiosity. I’d take the apple Saint Vengeur offers.

Rating: Very Good
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: stream (of consciousness)
Label: Genom Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Now canonized in the church of dark, experimental electronica, Saint Vengeur approaches us in a new(ish) form. In this incarnation, the not-so-latent eroticism of their debut, Par Feu et Par Flammes is laid bare,1 and following singles have continued to show titular Saint Herman Pańkow delving into the psychologies of love, hate, and religion and exorcising related emotional demons. Godless Tonight is the next chapter, and its weirdly disturbing art and title that could read as either condemnatory or liberational, only give some clue as to its contents. With poetry delivered through the conceit of a bizarre play, and a fluid, unlabellable mélange of EBM, darksynth, witch house, and many things between, Godless Tonight explores the inherent cruelty and pain yet also the necessity of love.

Just as you would were we discussing extreme metal, don’t dismiss the relativity when I say that Godless Tonight is less weird than Par Feu. This is still the person who wrote what I originally described as “like […] music composed by an alien.” The cold chimes whose tunefulness drains out of them, synths that burble and distort themselves in and out of haunting refrains erratic, fickle tempos, an overwhelming sense of hostility and tension: all are present. Sometimes, the exact same themes even arise (“451,” “HELLSTAR ANDROMEDA”). But the manner in which these are delivered is more tempered by harmoniousness and navigable groove. This works in step with the album’s mode of execution, as characters variously present musings, throw accusations, make confessions, commands, requests, and proclamations amidst the shifting scenes of seductive and sinister synth, which—intentionally or not—feel directed at you, the audience. Thus a part of the proceedings, one’s ear naturally sympathises to even the strangest and ugliest turns and finds more beauty in the greater abundance of mournful refrains.

The chameleonic nature of Godless Tonight is what makes it so potent. Is it abstraction and maximalism coalescing into a mesmerising, even danceable whole (“PRURIENT SOCIETY,” “HELLSTAR ARNDROMEDA,” “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD”)? Is it deceptively straightforward, hiding the next sudden turn of madness or cruelty (“451,” “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE,” “POOR HOMME (DISCO)”)? Both, it seems. The album’s greater stylistic breadth across the EBM and EDM spectrum nonetheless hinges on Saint Vengeur’s characteristic burbling sulky arpeggios and dissonant synth chords, into which the melancholic, uptempo themes repeatedly dissolve. The melodies are alluring, the beats catchy, the refrains memorable; but the ugliness is never far away, and so the sense of dread and tension rises. Thus, when tracks like “PRURIENT SOCIETY” and “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE” tread the line with hypnotic witch house, their weirdness reads only as beautiful; and when a shivering refrain chimes in midway through “451,” or starts to dominate “(S)LAUGHTER,” it feels like a blessing. By the time you reach “POOR HOMME (DISCO)” and “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD,” you take their irresistible cadence in stride, discomfiting as those voices and keys may be. As Godless Tonight morphs through variously solemn and vicious expressions, the disparity in styles is both more obvious and less troublesome; somehow it all just comes together.

That’s not to say that Saint Vengeur has actually performed a miracle; it’s not all perfect. The tongue-in-cheek self-awareness—the opening speech (“GOOD EVENING”) and playful mockery of our leads that the music is “like a child banging on a xylophone[…]” (“PRURIENT SOCIETY”)—might trigger some soft eye-rolls amongst the less tolerant, and doesn’t itself free Saint Vengeur from the responsibility to deliver compelling music. The oddly broken-up “DEVOURING FEMININE” into “CONFESSION,” somewhat stalls the flow, with the sudden volume of the latter’s sample just a tad jarring. It’s hard to believe, however, that this disturbing interlude is not intended to shake the listener’s complacency. Indeed, with the continual evolutions of the music and shifting dynamics between the speakers (and us), the album—the play ostensibly being performed—feels like a bad trip in a strange club, where you’re dragged into the messiest relationship ever. So while mileage may vary on some of the lyrics and their delivery, Godless Tonight succeeds in its presumed goal of making you squirm.

Godless Tonight, with its addictive rhythms and intricate blending of bizarre and beautiful, is primed to capture even those faintly sympathetic to the weird and electronically expressed. It’s groovy and fun, creepy with a small “c”, and sexy with quite a big “S”. It’s not exactly a palate-cleanser from the heaviness of metal so much as a way to satiate some dark, playful curiosity. I’d take the apple Saint Vengeur offers.

Rating: Very Good
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: stream (of consciousness)
Label: Genom Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Now canonized in the church of dark, experimental electronica, Saint Vengeur approaches us in a new(ish) form. In this incarnation, the not-so-latent eroticism of their debut, Par Feu et Par Flammes is laid bare,1 and following singles have continued to show titular Saint Herman Pańkow delving into the psychologies of love, hate, and religion and exorcising related emotional demons. Godless Tonight is the next chapter, and its weirdly disturbing art and title that could read as either condemnatory or liberational, only give some clue as to its contents. With poetry delivered through the conceit of a bizarre play, and a fluid, unlabellable mélange of EBM, darksynth, witch house, and many things between, Godless Tonight explores the inherent cruelty and pain yet also the necessity of love.

Just as you would were we discussing extreme metal, don’t dismiss the relativity when I say that Godless Tonight is less weird than Par Feu. This is still the person who wrote what I originally described as “like […] music composed by an alien.” The cold chimes whose tunefulness drains out of them, synths that burble and distort themselves in and out of haunting refrains erratic, fickle tempos, an overwhelming sense of hostility and tension: all are present. Sometimes, the exact same themes even arise (“451,” “HELLSTAR ANDROMEDA”). But the manner in which these are delivered is more tempered by harmoniousness and navigable groove. This works in step with the album’s mode of execution, as characters variously present musings, throw accusations, make confessions, commands, requests, and proclamations amidst the shifting scenes of seductive and sinister synth, which—intentionally or not—feel directed at you, the audience. Thus a part of the proceedings, one’s ear naturally sympathises to even the strangest and ugliest turns and finds more beauty in the greater abundance of mournful refrains.

The chameleonic nature of Godless Tonight is what makes it so potent. Is it abstraction and maximalism coalescing into a mesmerising, even danceable whole (“PRURIENT SOCIETY,” “HELLSTAR ARNDROMEDA,” “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD”)? Is it deceptively straightforward, hiding the next sudden turn of madness or cruelty (“451,” “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE,” “POOR HOMME (DISCO)”)? Both, it seems. The album’s greater stylistic breadth across the EBM and EDM spectrum nonetheless hinges on Saint Vengeur’s characteristic burbling sulky arpeggios and dissonant synth chords, into which the melancholic, uptempo themes repeatedly dissolve. The melodies are alluring, the beats catchy, the refrains memorable; but the ugliness is never far away, and so the sense of dread and tension rises. Thus, when tracks like “PRURIENT SOCIETY” and “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE” tread the line with hypnotic witch house, their weirdness reads only as beautiful; and when a shivering refrain chimes in midway through “451,” or starts to dominate “(S)LAUGHTER,” it feels like a blessing. By the time you reach “POOR HOMME (DISCO)” and “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD,” you take their irresistible cadence in stride, discomfiting as those voices and keys may be. As Godless Tonight morphs through variously solemn and vicious expressions, the disparity in styles is both more obvious and less troublesome; somehow it all just comes together.

That’s not to say that Saint Vengeur has actually performed a miracle; it’s not all perfect. The tongue-in-cheek self-awareness—the opening speech (“GOOD EVENING”) and playful mockery of our leads that the music is “like a child banging on a xylophone[…]” (“PRURIENT SOCIETY”)—might trigger some soft eye-rolls amongst the less tolerant, and doesn’t itself free Saint Vengeur from the responsibility to deliver compelling music. The oddly broken-up “DEVOURING FEMININE” into “CONFESSION,” somewhat stalls the flow, with the sudden volume of the latter’s sample just a tad jarring. It’s hard to believe, however, that this disturbing interlude is not intended to shake the listener’s complacency. Indeed, with the continual evolutions of the music and shifting dynamics between the speakers (and us), the album—the play ostensibly being performed—feels like a bad trip in a strange club, where you’re dragged into the messiest relationship ever. So while mileage may vary on some of the lyrics and their delivery, Godless Tonight succeeds in its presumed goal of making you squirm.

Godless Tonight, with its addictive rhythms and intricate blending of bizarre and beautiful, is primed to capture even those faintly sympathetic to the weird and electronically expressed. It’s groovy and fun, creepy with a small “c”, and sexy with quite a big “S”. It’s not exactly a palate-cleanser from the heaviness of metal so much as a way to satiate some dark, playful curiosity. I’d take the apple Saint Vengeur offers.

Rating: Very Good
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: stream (of consciousness)
Label: Genom Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Now canonized in the church of dark, experimental electronica, Saint Vengeur approaches us in a new(ish) form. In this incarnation, the not-so-latent eroticism of their debut, Par Feu et Par Flammes is laid bare,1 and following singles have continued to show titular Saint Herman Pańkow delving into the psychologies of love, hate, and religion and exorcising related emotional demons. Godless Tonight is the next chapter, and its weirdly disturbing art and title that could read as either condemnatory or liberational, only give some clue as to its contents. With poetry delivered through the conceit of a bizarre play, and a fluid, unlabellable mélange of EBM, darksynth, witch house, and many things between, Godless Tonight explores the inherent cruelty and pain yet also the necessity of love.

Just as you would were we discussing extreme metal, don’t dismiss the relativity when I say that Godless Tonight is less weird than Par Feu. This is still the person who wrote what I originally described as “like […] music composed by an alien.” The cold chimes whose tunefulness drains out of them, synths that burble and distort themselves in and out of haunting refrains erratic, fickle tempos, an overwhelming sense of hostility and tension: all are present. Sometimes, the exact same themes even arise (“451,” “HELLSTAR ANDROMEDA”). But the manner in which these are delivered is more tempered by harmoniousness and navigable groove. This works in step with the album’s mode of execution, as characters variously present musings, throw accusations, make confessions, commands, requests, and proclamations amidst the shifting scenes of seductive and sinister synth, which—intentionally or not—feel directed at you, the audience. Thus a part of the proceedings, one’s ear naturally sympathises to even the strangest and ugliest turns and finds more beauty in the greater abundance of mournful refrains.

The chameleonic nature of Godless Tonight is what makes it so potent. Is it abstraction and maximalism coalescing into a mesmerising, even danceable whole (“PRURIENT SOCIETY,” “HELLSTAR ARNDROMEDA,” “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD”)? Is it deceptively straightforward, hiding the next sudden turn of madness or cruelty (“451,” “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE,” “POOR HOMME (DISCO)”)? Both, it seems. The album’s greater stylistic breadth across the EBM and EDM spectrum nonetheless hinges on Saint Vengeur’s characteristic burbling sulky arpeggios and dissonant synth chords, into which the melancholic, uptempo themes repeatedly dissolve. The melodies are alluring, the beats catchy, the refrains memorable; but the ugliness is never far away, and so the sense of dread and tension rises. Thus, when tracks like “PRURIENT SOCIETY” and “LUST FANTASY PRESAGE” tread the line with hypnotic witch house, their weirdness reads only as beautiful; and when a shivering refrain chimes in midway through “451,” or starts to dominate “(S)LAUGHTER,” it feels like a blessing. By the time you reach “POOR HOMME (DISCO)” and “THE LIGHT OF THIS WORLD,” you take their irresistible cadence in stride, discomfiting as those voices and keys may be. As Godless Tonight morphs through variously solemn and vicious expressions, the disparity in styles is both more obvious and less troublesome; somehow it all just comes together.

That’s not to say that Saint Vengeur has actually performed a miracle; it’s not all perfect. The tongue-in-cheek self-awareness—the opening speech (“GOOD EVENING”) and playful mockery of our leads that the music is “like a child banging on a xylophone[…]” (“PRURIENT SOCIETY”)—might trigger some soft eye-rolls amongst the less tolerant, and doesn’t itself free Saint Vengeur from the responsibility to deliver compelling music. The oddly broken-up “DEVOURING FEMININE” into “CONFESSION,” somewhat stalls the flow, with the sudden volume of the latter’s sample just a tad jarring. It’s hard to believe, however, that this disturbing interlude is not intended to shake the listener’s complacency. Indeed, with the continual evolutions of the music and shifting dynamics between the speakers (and us), the album—the play ostensibly being performed—feels like a bad trip in a strange club, where you’re dragged into the messiest relationship ever. So while mileage may vary on some of the lyrics and their delivery, Godless Tonight succeeds in its presumed goal of making you squirm.

Godless Tonight, with its addictive rhythms and intricate blending of bizarre and beautiful, is primed to capture even those faintly sympathetic to the weird and electronically expressed. It’s groovy and fun, creepy with a small “c”, and sexy with quite a big “S”. It’s not exactly a palate-cleanser from the heaviness of metal so much as a way to satiate some dark, playful curiosity. I’d take the apple Saint Vengeur offers.

Rating: Very Good
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: stream (of consciousness)
Label: Genom Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026