Breathing Solitude by Downfall: A Blackened Gem That Still Kicks Ass (1995)
Alright, let’s talk about Breathing Solitude, the 1995 black metal masterpiece from France’s own Downfall. Released on Not On Label (because who needs a label when you’re this raw?), this album is like that one friend who shows up uninvited but ends up being the life of the party. It’s grimy, it’s chaotic, and honestly? It rules.
First off, let’s break down the vibe here. This isn’t your polished, stadium-ready rock—it’s black metal through and through. Think frostbitten riffs, blastbeat drumming that sounds like someone’s trying to exorcise a demon, and vocals that are equal parts growl and shriek. If you’re into music that feels like it was recorded in a crypt, this is your jam.
Now, onto the tracks. I’ll keep it short because ain’t nobody got time for a track-by-track dissertation. But two songs stood out to me like headbangers at a library—Breaking Solitude and Mourning My Harmony.
Breaking Solitude kicks things off with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face. The opening riff hits you like a caffeine jolt on a Monday morning, and before you know it, you’re hooked. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to grab your air guitar (or actual guitar, if you’re fancy) and pretend you’re the frontman of a band no one’s ever heard of. The pacing is relentless, and just when you think it can’t get any heavier, it does. Classic black metal shenanigans.
Then there’s Mourning My Harmony, which throws a curveball with lyrics penned by Jorg Buchholz. This track feels like staring into the void while the void stares back—and maybe flips you off. It’s slower, moodier, and packed with enough gloom to make Edgar Allan Poe proud. The melodies twist and turn like a snake that’s had too much espresso, and the haunting atmosphere sticks with you long after the final note fades.
The rest of the album keeps the energy cranked to eleven, with gems like Chronicle Of A Foretold End and the two-part saga Exhumed Souls. Each track feels like its own little apocalypse, drenched in distortion and despair. And honestly, isn’t that what we’re all here for?
So, why does Breathing Solitude still matter almost thirty years later? Maybe it’s because it captures the essence of black metal without taking itself too seriously. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s so damn fun to listen to. Either way, it’s a reminder that sometimes the best art comes from places (and labels) you’d least expect.
Final thought: If this album were a person, it’d probably be that moody goth kid in high school who secretly loved bad puns. And honestly? We need more of those.
