Formed in 2008 in the wild lands of Central
Brittany, Stonebirds carved a unique path
through the European heavy underground. Their sound grew from the damp soil of
rural decay and isolation, a reflection of landscapes haunted by both myth and
modern neglect. The trio’s early work, starting with "Into The Fog… And
The Filthy Air", captured a haunting mix of sludge, psychedelia, and
progressive textures. As the years passed and their music darkened through
albums like "Time" and "Collapse and Fail", Stonebirds
refined their craft into something raw, spiritual, and distinctly human.
"Perpetual
Wasteland" marks their farewell, and it feels like a final storm rising
over their long-buried roots. The album unfolds with the patience of erosion.
Riffs crash and fade like waves on cold stone, while the vocals wander between
despair and fragile hope. The production by Cyrille
Gachet gives everything a harsh brightness, balancing heaviness with
space, as if the air itself is vibrating with the last remnants of life in a
collapsing world.
"Perpetual
Wasteland" doesn’t rely on excess. It’s focused, emotionally heavy, and
elegantly shaped. The trio’s chemistry is remarkable, every hit of the drum,
every bass rumble, every haunting chord is like the echo of years spent
perfecting a single, sorrowful language. There’s a meditative undertone running
through it, as if the band is saying farewell not only to music but to
something larger, maybe even the world that inspired it.
As a final
chapter, this album captures Stonebirds’
vision in its purest form. It’s not an easy listen, but it’s deeply human,
filled with despair and a faint shimmer of light behind the darkness. "Perpetual
Wasteland" stands as a fitting monument to Stonebirds’
legacy, solemn, crushing, and strangely beautiful, like the ruins left behind
after the storm.
Score:
7.0
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