No Devotion – No Oblivion | Album Review

When No Devotion faded from public eye following the release cycle of their 2015 debut Permanence, many presumed it to be the quiet death of the band.

After all, given their unique formation, it wouldn’t be a crime to assume that the aforementioned record was a one time offering from a band formed from circumstance. In the years of silence that followed their debut it was easy to presume the band was done, dusted and nothing more but a brilliant albeit quick flash in the vast pan that is the scene – especially with vocalist Geoff Rickly returning to his primary band Thursday. Lo and behold though, for after faint whisperings of productivity No Devotion are back after seven years with their second release No Oblivion. Is it a worthy successor of Permanence? Well that’s going to a subject of fierce debate in the weeks to come, especially given it’s singular and narrow focus on drab majesty.

Whereas the group’s debut was an electronic-tinged romp through danceable melancholia, No Oblivion is very much a tonal shift in stylings. In contrary to the jittery New Order romanticism abundant in Permanence, No Oblivion is very much a record of dreary ennui expressed via monochromatic synthetic soundscapes. It’s not entirely surprising given the band’s utilisation of such bleak textures and despondent pacing in the past, but what is unexpected is how apathetic despair is the only emotion to be found within the eight songs that form the record. The profoundly gloomy ‘Starlings’ and following title track wastes no time whatsoever in establishing such a fact. As minimalist synths swell and surf amongst Rickly’s drowned, morose vocals, one is dragged down into the cold depths of despondency that No Oblivion bathes within.

Though of course, No Devotion has been a conduit for Rickly’s depression and heartbreak since it’s inception. That much has always been obvious. But what separates this record from it’s predecessor is just how profound and blanketing this sense of despair is. Long gone is the danceable and chemical indigence from years prior, with the allegories on depression now profound within the band’s instrumentation as well as Rickly’s direct lyricism. This may sound too overt and intense – and it will be for some – but the way this potent, profound misery is articulated is brilliantly composed and infectious on an emotional level.

As Rickly laments “but that was just a dream” against the oppressively brooding fretwork on the fantastically visual ‘Love Songs From Facist Italy’, it’s impossible not reflect on not only the band’s once buoyant sound but one’s own inner turmoil and sociopolitical despair. Similarly, the pulsating synths and rich textures of ‘The End Of Longing’ harken thoughts of Perturbator with it’s fatal melancholia and it’s aggressive and pounding synthwave textures, hammering callous misery into one’s foremind.

But as the record slides into it’s final arc with ‘Endless Desire’, ‘Repeaters’ and the closing funeral march of ‘In A Broken Land’, one may began to succumb to fatigue. The obsidian electronic textures that coat this record are velvety and rich but towards the end of the record’s runtime they become threadbare from continuous usage. In the same nature, the glacial pacing of the record does animate the misery binding the album to a grimly palatable degree but respite is needed prior to the final drone of the stated closer. No Oblivion is a record lacking in variation and sadly no amount of carefully composed structures, stark human emotion and delicately crafted synthwave textures will ultimately change that.

This isn’t a bad album, far from it in fact; ‘The End Of Longing’, ‘Love Songs From Facist Italy’ and the title track itself are brilliantly considered movements on the very nature of sorrow and some of the best songs No Devotion have released. But with it’s narrow-lensed focus, lack of deviation in it’s meandering pacing and thick atmosphere that becomes suffocating, many will be left wanting for the catharsis they came to No Devotion for.