Shades by Painted Sick Illusion: A Rock Odyssey That Doesn’t Take Itself Too Seriously
Let’s get one thing straight—1996 wasn’t exactly a banner year for Norwegian rock albums. Sure, Norway had its black metal scene cranking out frostbitten riffs and church-burning antics, but Shades by Painted Sick Illusion? This is classic rock with a hard edge, served with a side of ‘90s grit and zero pretense. Released under the mysterious “Not On Label” banner (probably because they couldn’t afford one), this album feels like a bunch of dudes jamming in a garage somewhere near Oslo, fueled by bad coffee and questionable life choices.
First off, let’s talk about the lineup. You’ve got Geir Hansegård holding down the bass like it’s his day job—which, honestly, it might be—and Arve Aaslie smashing drums as if he’s trying to exorcise some deep childhood trauma. Terje Stensvoll and Torkel Olstad trade guitar licks like they’re dueling at high noon, while Bobby belts out vocals that are equal parts raw and relatable. And props to Børge Finstad, who not only produced this beast but also mixed it alongside Audun Strype, ensuring everything sounds tight enough without losing that rough-around-the-edges charm.
Now onto the tracks. With titles like Tracked With Torture, Nothing But Lies, and Agony All Over Again, you’d think this was an emo album ahead of its time. Spoiler alert: it ain’t. These songs are pure rock ‘n’ roll catharsis, dripping with swagger and just a hint of self-loathing. Two tracks stand out for me personally, though, and here’s why:
1. “Down On My Knees”: If I had to pick a single moment where Painted Sick Illusion nails their sound, this would be it. The opening riff hits you like a punch from your drunk uncle at Christmas dinner—unexpected yet oddly satisfying. Then there’s Bobby’s voice, raspy and desperate, telling a story we’ve all been through: screwing up big time and begging for forgiveness. By the time the chorus kicks in, you’re ready to fall on your own knees, even if it’s just to crank the volume louder.
2. “Bleed Alone”: This track sneaks up on you. It starts slow, almost melancholic, like someone staring out a rainy window thinking about past mistakes. But then—bam!—the tempo shifts, and suddenly you’re headbanging so hard your neck might snap. Lyrically, it’s vague enough to mean whatever heartbreak or existential crisis you’re dealing with, which is probably why it sticks. Plus, those dual guitar solos? Chef’s kiss.
The rest of the album follows suit: catchy hooks, crunchy riffs, and lyrics that veer between angsty and introspective. Tracks like Changing Seasons and In My Thoughts bring a softer touch, proving these guys can do more than just scream into the void. Even the untitled track (No Title) has a weird charm, like finding a forgotten Polaroid in an old shoebox—it doesn’t make sense, but you keep looking at it anyway.
So what’s the verdict? Is Shades a masterpiece? Nah. Is it worth spinning once or twice? Absolutely. What sets it apart isn’t perfection—it’s personality. This album feels human, flawed, and unapologetically real. Listening to it is like hanging out with old friends who tell dumb jokes, spill beer everywhere, and still manage to make you feel less alone.
And hey, fun fact: Norway gave us both black metal legends and this quirky little rock gem. Who says Vikings don’t have range?
Final thought: If Painted Sick Illusion ever reunites, I hope they name their tour something ridiculous, like “Still Not Dead Yet.” Until then, crank Shades loud and enjoy the ride—it’s messy, memorable, and totally worth it.
