MELEKH - 'Монохром' (2015)

14 December 2015
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For various reasons, this album might have not been completed at all. And we would have suspected but would never be sure just how much we would have missed. Because 'Monohrom' is simply splendid. Greyish-black, autumnal, unexpectedly beautiful and somewhat poetic, melancholic and pessimistic, inspiringly melodic, bursting out with all the energy the band has been storing inside during their 11-year long history.

 
We should probably position MELEKH as a hardcore band – after all, that's the secene they emerged out of. But still, this definition would be largely misleading. Their sound is pretty newschool, with notable nuances of both post punk and even new wave, so we should probably refer to them as post hardcore, vague though the term might be. And probably a vague description is most fitting, because 'Monohrom' is an album driven by its own logic and not the scene's unwritten rules and regulations.
 
Without falling into the trap of sounding emo or screamo, MELEKH manage to switch straightforward hardcore aggression for pure energy, expressive musical structures and a lot of melody, with all elements coherently blending in with the notably dark existential lyrics dealing largely with alienation and grief. Apart from its excellent and almost surprisingly varied instrumental side, what makes 'Monohrom' shine throughout are the splendid lyrics (check them out if you're fluent in Bulgarian) and Boro Brodnik's painfully emotional vocals, varying from a scream to a whisper to a rather convincing melodic singing. Maybe that's the reason MELEKH's debut reminds is mainly of NOVA GENERATSIA's 'Vhod B' and TUMNO's self-titled debut. And that comparison is not really based on the stylistic similarity between those albums but on their emotional charge and eerie autumnal qualities.
 
And even though we usually urge you to listen to the better albums in their entirety, we should point out the tracks off 'Monohrom' that immediately make us want to go poggoing inside our little office – the self-titled song (featuring guitar intensity and some splendid screech by Boro), the somewhat occult-themed 'Patia Na Liavata Raka', the straigh-on hardcore piece 'Kinjali' and album opener 'Prizrak' (partly based on poem by Charles Baudelaire) that alone weighs heavier than half of Bulgarian albums released in the last 5 years.
 
Source: RadioTangra.com