There is a Katatonia colour. A blue-grey of day’s end, a declining light, that hushed melancholy which, since the turn of the 2000s, has been the Swedish band’s signature. Former heralds of death/doom, Jonas Renkse and Anders Nyström long ago moulted toward an atmospheric, refined metal, closer to progressive rock than to their early brutality. Sky Void of Stars, hailed by a faithful press (an 84 average across eight reviews), offers a new and superb variation.
What strikes is the constancy of feeling. Katatonia speak of only one thing — loss, the inner night, the slow erosion of things — but they speak of it with an accuracy that never falters. Renkse’s voice, a wounded murmur, traces melodies of fragile beauty, carried by weightless guitars and a production of extreme refinement.
The press note, rightly, that the record introduces a hint of dynamism, a few brighter flashes that pierce the greyness. Therein lies all the subtlety of this band: never quite sinking, letting a clarity filter through the clouds that makes the melancholy bearable, almost sweet.
One might object that Katatonia repeat themselves, tending their garden without seeking to scale its walls. True. But that garden is of such beauty that one readily forgives them for no longer wishing to leave it.
Verdict: 8. A record of flawless melancholic elegance, for those evenings when one seeks less to be cured of one’s sadness than to contemplate it.
