"For Lilies I just wanted to retreat to a cave with my Pro-Tools, my computer, and my cheap, 100Euro Shure SM-58 microphone. I could have gone to a big studio, made a big production – but I wanted none of that. I wanted to go back to the seed of creativity, the simplest materials. I was in this room where there was no light, no night or day at all, no heat. Very uncomfortable. But I felt free. I was happy to have this feeling – ‘I don’t need more, I have everything I need here.’” The spirit and the context in which Melanie De Biasio created Lilies are certainly in keeping with this unique artist's life and work... A singer-musician who is always ready to question and challenge herself anew and push the boundary markers which are so often set down between musical genres. Released in 2013, her album No Deal excelled as an atmospheric meeting of jazz, electro and rock. The Belgian who worships Nina Simone and Abbey Lincoln took another departure from the beaten track with what is commonly called vocal jazz, and wandered towards soul, trip hop, blues: into the most impalpable of ethers. In these weightless sequences, Lilies is firmly stamped with the De Biasio hallmark. This is a way of doing away with labels and playing with light and dark, day and night. © MD/Qobuz

This is a debut album that hits the bullseye for a number of reasons. White Void is a project assembling musicians from various backgrounds here to rub shoulders with players on the fringes of the sonic terrain marked by their original bands. Singer Lars Nedland of the black metal scene (Solefald, Borknagar) meets drummer Tobias Solbakk (Ihsahn), bassist Vegard Kumme, from the world of electronica, and guitarist Eivind Marum, virtuoso from the realm of old-fashioned blues rock and hard rock. It’s an assemblage of bad-asses that, on paper, could have generated an unprecedented new creature, even if likely to trend into the extreme zone of music that the Norwegians practically own. But White Void decided otherwise. Yes, they’re delivering something different, but not what you might have expected. This is a tour de force that borrows as much from vintage rock as from contemporary music; in fact, it is difficult indeed to classify this album in a specific category. Sure, you can feel the hard rock side in the riffs, but the airy sounds, drowned in reverb, immediately suggest and channel in something bordering on psychedelia. Neither space rock, nor pure hard rock, a bit prog, and always catchy, Anti checks off a number of boxes without settling into any one precise style, like a group possibly ever in search of its true identity. The opposite, however, is obvious from the outset. White Void already have a style all their own, unfolded with surprising consistency throughout the album. The sublime melodic work in these eight songs is sure to draw parallels with Ghost or even some tracks by Blue Öyster Cult. Why not... But this outfit has its very own personality, reinforced by the excellent guitar work that solidifies its rock identity without ever giving in to the siren lure of the catchy chorus too easily coated with keyboards, overly polishing up the whole. Take songs like There is no Freedom but the End and The Fucking Violence of Love as the ultimate proof. There’s ample clarity in the vocals, but an ever-ready guitar lick or riff always muscles in to strengthen the entire ensemble. Even when White Void works in a few electronica elements, it’s to darken the sound or make it even more progressive, (the excellent The Air Was Thick With Smoke). Turning old-fashioned sounds into avant-garde flourishes, and alchemising vintage influences into contemporary music, this Norwegian combo has the swag to knock any listener onto his back foot. However, their collective nerve and musical mastery are sure to win you over as this devilishly convincing album unfolds its secrets. Anti is a genuine masterstroke that proves it’s still possible to surprise, using tried-and true hard rock elements prized for decades, without cloning or copying the iconic past. Already a cult fave.  © Chief Brody/Qobuz