Domhain – In Perfect Stillness


Belfast post-black metal quartet, Domhain, attracted the interest of record label, These Hands Melt, early in their career. The Italian company released their first EP in 2023, and you can see why. This is a group that can take their place next to K L P S, Noctambulist, and Svnth as an artist of great introspective intensity. As their debut album, In Perfect Stillness will have no trouble landing them a place at next year’s ArcTanGent Festival.

A brooding cello and choral harmonies anchored around a bass baritone voice unleash the anguish in opener, ‘Una Tarra Ci Hé’. The soprano voice over the top of this creates a penitent sense of responsibility that might be mistaken for guilt. This is powerful stuff. Listen how the atonal mid-range guitars erupt in ‘Talamh Lom’ under the umbrella of multi-tracked vocal lines. Adding screams in the places you’d expect backing harmonies is unique. If only the guitar distortion had more to it than just dissonance. It’s a relief to hear the odd power chord among the noise until they reset at 02:25 with delicate bass notes and cautious cello movements. Fortunately, Domhain understand the power of tension and dynamic variation, and they gallop their way back to the existential battle with a heroic performance on the drum stool from Anaïs Chareyre-Méjan. The heavenly surrender of the soul is something to aim for in music like this if you can force your imagination to match your instinctive emotions.

The French-language dream pop in the intro to ‘Footsteps II’ is a remarkable contrast to what came before it. Andy Ennis demonstrates the power of his head voice and its sorrowful quality when he takes the microphone. This band are strong on their vocal arrangements. They know here that an incandescent doom metal tempo can project their emotions better than an abrasive black metal torrent. You wonder if Anathema might do something like this if they came out of retirement. Unlike the melodrama of gothic metal, Domhain’s atmospheric post-metal exists in a secular world where there is no God of redemption. How to confront this tragedy and how to make sense of loss is what animates its creators.

The black metal aspects of the quartet’s music are as tuneless as a vacuum cleaner when all instruments blaze at their loudest in the title-track. Yet the blast beats are powerful enough to reveal the snare rather than the hi hats, and Andy Ennis articulates his shrieks with surprising clarity. Domhain are far more interesting at their loneliest and most delicate, when the dual vocal harmonies unite and the bass guitar weaves through the quieter moments. This also sets them up for the discordant doom metal glory at the five-minute mark, where tremolo rhythms dub over the ringing chords and double-kick eighth notes. Listen to the vocals turn to belting at the end from all angles and participants. Jesus Christ, this could make your eyes water if you’re feeling vulnerable.

The song title alone for closing effort, ‘My Tomb Beneath the Tide’, should be poignant enough to pique your interest. Here, Andy Ennis pleads into the void with the heavy heart of a man ready to say, “Take me from this world.” Musically, it lands in the Cult of Luna soundscape of monumental struggle, but the pleading vocal harmonies and wailing guitar solo drag you in other directions. It feels like you’ve dropped to your knees with a dagger pointing at your chest when the surface tension breaks at 05:05. Are you ready to end it all and sleep among the willow beds? Don’t be. The will to survive is strong here once you accept that pain and torment are an unavoidable fact of life. It means you can imagine the possibility that you might be in control of how to exit the stage. “Here I will finally rest in the salty waves of death,” declares Ennis. Amen.

Kirk Houghton


Verdict