Review: Klone ‘The Unseen’

On paper French art-rockers Klone have slowly evolved since 1999, but their genesis began some years earlier in 1995 when guitarist Guillaume Bernard, bassist Julien Comte and vocalist David Ledoux formed the nascent Sowat, combining the power groove of Pantera, the terrifying crunch of Alice In Chains and the prog dalliances of Tool and Porcupine Tree.

Despite refining their sonic direction and line-up, becoming Klone in 1999, the band would not release their full debut, Duplicate, until 2004. Over the next two decades and nine albums, the evolution would continue this expansion, introducing more atmospheric, progressive and post-rock elements which have sought to balance the heaviness of their earlier work with a more cinematic sound. The most dramatic of shifts came in 2015 with their Here Come The Sun album which saw them largely eschew the faster, metallic elements and harsh vocals for a more ethereal and moodier sound.

The release of their tenth album, The Unseen, comes on the back of last year’s Meanwhile, which called back to some of their earlier heavier compositions. Most strikingly for this release is that it is almost devoid of any overt metal moments and is brimming with slow, melodic and haunting compositions, saving the height weight punch for the bleak despair they can conjure and banish with the gossamer light introduction of hopefulness, making them kindred spirits of the departed Anathema.

The warm indie sounds of Interlaced dance with steady drums courtesy of Morgan Berthet and ringing guitars from Bernard and Aldrick Guagagino. The humming bass of Enzo Alfano acts more like an additional lead instrument with thoughtful, noodling runs, before the clean and earnest delivery of vocalist Yann Ligner soars over the track. As the lilting pace ebbs and flows, the introduction of saxophone from Matthieu Metzgar (who handles several additional instruments) takes flight, giving Interlaced a wistful, jazz-like vibe.

The title track’s more tentative, down-paced strains are slow and considered. The languid sway grows more assured, and undercurrents of heavier instrumentalisation creeps in. Stopping short of descending into their previous grungy angst, the swirling effects add a swell to the plaintive emotions as the band transitions into a rougher, more discordant sound that doesn’t compromise the glorious harmonies, even when Ligner teases a more full-throated delivery.

Magnetic arrives on an oscillating rhythm that hints at their previous Tool influence with the off-kilter thump of the toms. As tingling guitars jostle with the more energetic strum, Ligner stretches his range and provides haunting atmospherics with trademark panache that makes the lyrics, exploring various introspective themes, hit home with stunning execution.

Pulsing bass lines form the backbone for After The Sun as the guitars intertwine with sumptuous melodies. Similarly to fellow countrymen Alcest and their recent Les Chants De L’Aurore album, Klone focuses their collective energy on creating a dream-like soundscape where heavier moments emerge fleetingly and drift with existential musings. As the track grows in strength and confidence, pulling back the rumbling bass, they build in subtle stages, returning each time allowing the vocal development to match the emotional journey.

an incredibly beautiful album that is a worthy addition to their catalogue as they carve out another slice of cinematic post-rock soundscapes…

The swinging waltz of Desire Line calls back to the jazz vibes of earlier as the smokey club feel of the lazy sway is comforting, airy and loose. The expansive post-rock has a refreshing bluesy depth which gives the impression of being more an improvised jam as the catchy guitar hooks give texture over the orchestral swell and the stirring lyrical turns.

Slow Down is one of The Unseen’s most striking highlights; the mellow, pondering flow accentuates the lush guitar tones and the stark vocals. As the more striking riffing emerges, the vocal melodies and otherworldly range of Ligner remind me of The Ocean’s Loïc Rossetti with the detached and narrative contributions to the lighter moments of the Phanerozoic albums. The sombre, melancholic nature of the track has an epic feel that walks on the side of mournful, pining for some grand vision just out of touching distance.

Opening with the pondering sounds of guitar and electronics, the final track, Spring, is the longest contribution to the album, double the length of the nearest track, before the almost symphonic warmth of the earlier numbers informs the first half. Teasing and showing off the interlocking chemistry of the band, there is an undercurrent of unravelling that begins to reveal darker and heavier tones.

After a pause, Vangelis-like strains drip into your ear, and unsettling picked notes with heartbeat-like percussion give the second half a bleaker feel. This instrumental passage evokes the drifting sense of the ethereal that they fold into the compositions of The Unseen and ends the album in a muted, surreal manner.

Klone have long sought to distinguish themselves from their contemporaries by channelling their sound into a discourse in the spatial relationship between the words and the music. At times they can appear detached from any distinctive genre as they explore the emotive tug they create. The music is saturated with dense layers and nuances that can hone on the listener’s response, taking them on a soulful journey that offers those hopeful moments amongst the complexities of modern life. At times it can feel deceptively simplistic, but on repeatedly listens the album is awash with deep resonance and questioning, searching lyrics that are carried like echoes on the wind.

The Unseen is an incredibly beautiful album that is a worthy addition to their catalogue as they carve out another slice of cinematic post-rock soundscapes. Long-time fans may pine for the heavier bombast of previous releases, but there is no denying that Klone continues to raise the bar of their vision to great results.

Label: Pelagic Records
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Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden