Few experiences make me as aware of the inexorable passage of time as reviewing an album by a band whose discography I’ve been following for a significant period. Remembering parts of who, where and when I was while first becoming aware of and enamored with Impure Wilhelmina in 2017—all while realizing this is almost 10 years ago—seems like a fitting backdrop for reviewing a band so steeped in nostalgic melancholy. Especially since, both of their last two albums have been a timely and meaningful if sporadic companion to different melancholic moods throughout the years, bathes the musical experience in different hues and revealing new patinas with every (re)visit.
Le Sanglot (“The Sob”) is the first Impure Wilhelmina album to be sung entirely in French since 1996, and sees the Geneva four-piece sounding smoother and leaving behind much of the angular, angsty barbs and urgent riffing that permeated their last two releases. Radiation and Antidote had a riffier, urgent energy, driving forward like a November gale that brought to mind 2006–16-era Katatonia and incorporated elements of Smiths-like indie alongside the bleak gothic rock of Deathwhite or a more downcast Doctor Smoke, while still being firmly rooted in post-metal. Le Sanglot is a generally more languid affair, more akin to the pressurised, gray doldrums that precede a grandiose summer storm, filled with an expectant heat that threatens to break by the albums end, and while the first thick drops are felt there, the thundering release remains anticipated by the album’s final notes.
The album’s grasp of an ironically tense détente is bolstered by the shift to French lyrics, which elicit the kind of natural comfort that can be felt as much as heard when a vocalist switches to a language that is presumably native. While some songs have a tendency to meld together, the album’s strengths are apparent in different forms throughout. The boost in tempo and undeniably effective guitars and rumbling bass of “Larmes de joie” retain the natural and unbothered sound of the album’s opening salvo, while reintroducing some of the heavier urgency of past triumphs. “Train Mort” even reintroduces harsh vocals (possibly courtesy of Mütterlein, who feature on this track) to great dynamic effect, while “Demain J’Abandonne” shows Impure Wilhelmina at their stripped down and vulnerable, hair-raising and gorgeous in its minimal use of guitars and Michael Schindl’s excellent vocals, which land somewhere between Jonas Renkse, Morissey and Failure’s Ken Andrews.
Recently added guitarist Edouard Nicod leaves his skillful mark on the guitar parts, with he and Along with Schindl leading the musical equivalent of a nostalgic Alpine roadtrip with the occasional sharp and dangerous switchback. Meanwhile, Sebastian Dutruel’s bass rumbles to life underneath, providing a strong foundation along with Mario Togni’s punchy drums, which are deceptively clever while never overpowering the album’s guitar and voice-focused presentation, but still show their teeth when incidentally erupting into blasting territory on "Blanche Réalité."
The warmer (though never sunny) moods have made this an easy companion in the past weeks, and I love the band's shift to French lyrics. However, I miss the heavier tones of Antidote, and the passing of time and the many different iterations of me that have experienced Impure Wilhelmina throughout the years make this a hard album to rate in comparison to previous works. Still, there is something in Le Sanglot that sounds undeniably natural. Like the turning of a cold spring to early summer, or the smoothing of sharp stones with the passing of time. With it, Impure Wilhelmina have once again evolved, but it is a natural evolution—unhurried, yet never losing the tension that draws the listener back in, no matter how much time has passed.