Defence Of Rage’s Heaven: A Darkwave Dream from '97 That Still Haunts
Alright, let’s talk about Heaven, the 1997 album by Defence Of Rage. It’s one of those records that sneaks up on you—kinda like when you're walking alone at night and suddenly notice someone following you. But instead of freaking out, you’re kinda into it. Released under PlancTon Records in Germany, this baby blends EBM, Synth-pop, and Darkwave into a moody cocktail that feels both nostalgic and ahead of its time.
First off, the tracklist reads like a diary of emotions: "Where to Turn," "Nameless," "It's a Dream"—you get the vibe. These aren’t just songs; they’re little worlds you can sink into. Two tracks really stuck with me, though: “Shadows (Dance Version 97)” and “Colours.”
“Shadows” is pure hypnotic energy. Imagine being in some dimly lit club where everyone’s wearing black, but somehow, you feel alive for the first time all week. The beat hits hard enough to make your chest rattle, yet there’s this melancholy undertone that keeps things grounded. You don’t just hear it—you feel it. And honestly? I couldn’t stop humming the synth line for days after hearing it. It’s catchy as hell without trying too hard, which is rare these days.
Then there’s “Colours.” This one’s different—it’s softer, almost dreamlike. If “Shadows” is the chaotic heartbeat of the night, “Colours” is the sunrise that comes way too early. The synths swirl around like watercolors bleeding into each other, creating something fragile and beautiful. It reminds me of staring out a rain-speckled window while zoning out to old memories. Like, damn, how do they bottle up feelings like that?
The rest of the album follows suit—moody instrumentals like “Heaven (Instrumental)” give you space to breathe, while tracks like “Free Spaces” bring back the groove. Even the more experimental stuff, like “The Night (Instrumental),” works because it doesn’t try to force anything. Everything flows naturally, like the band knew exactly what they were doing but didn’t care about impressing anyone.
What strikes me most about Heaven is how timeless it feels. Sure, it came out in ’97, but it doesn’t have that dated “oh, this is so ‘90s” vibe. Instead, it sounds like it could’ve dropped last month—or maybe twenty years from now. That’s the magic of good electronic music: it transcends time if done right.
And here’s the kicker—I listened to this album during a power outage once. Yeah, ironic, right? No lights, no phone, just my headphones and Heaven. Turns out, it sounded even better in the dark. Maybe that’s why it’s called Heaven. Or maybe it’s just proof that sometimes, the best moments happen when everything else falls apart.
