Welcome back my fellow black metalheads, Sean here at the Black Metal Archives, and whooboy, I’m still shaking from Trëma’s Volutes Oniriques—it’s like a French hex fucked my soul into a trance. I dug this up in a Bandcamp stupor, and it hit me like a dark, smoky dream—haunting, hypnotic, and goddamn raw. Dropped July 6, 2023, via Antiq Records, this three-track EP from one-man enigma Disheol (formerly Hreidmarr) has got me swaying and snarling—let’s tear this mystic motherfucker apart!
Trëma slithered out of Nouvelle-Aquitaine, France, in 2020, a solo spell from Disheol, who conjures all instruments and vocals like a blackened shaman. This fucker’s been weaving his dark magic since, and Volutes Oniriques is his 2023 incantation, a short but potent blast.
“Animal” creeps in like a beast stalking my mind, guitars weaving this hypnotic, melodic haze that’s got my blood simmering. Disheol’s vocals are a goddamn trance—shrill and eerie, pulling me under—while his drums pulse like a ritual heartbeat. The bass thrums low, and I’m hooked, swaying like a possessed fucker, lost in its primal grip.
“Les Rêves De l’Alb-Atroce” keeps the spell rolling, and holy fuck, it’s got me snarling like a fiend. The guitars churn out this raw, frostbitten melody—sharp as hell—while the vocals rip through, wild and unhinged, with guest choral chants adding a ghostly wail. The drums blast with relentless fury, and I’m banging my head ‘til my brain rattles—nightmares never sounded so goddamn good.
“Onirisme” is where I fucking lose it—a beast that owns my soul. The guitars blaze with this eerie, triumphant fire—riffs that swirl like smoke in a trance—while Disheol’s voice snarls and soars, dripping with hypnotic rage. The rhythm section thunders, and I’m screaming along, caught in its fucking web—pure black metal sorcery.
Trëma’s sound on Volutes Oniriques is a goddamn elixir—Disheol’s guitars are a storm of hypnotic riffs and dark melodies, while his bass is the deep, pulsing vein that keeps me raging. The drums are a fucking whirlwind, blasting with savage grace, and his vocals are the raw, mystic heart—wild, pained, and perfect. Choral guests sprinkle in, lifting this shit to a spectral plane. In the black metal genre, this fucker dances with the atmospheric elite—Alcest’s dreamy chill, early Ulver’s rawness—but with a French hypnotic edge that’s pure Les Discrets or Amesoeurs, unpolished and spellbinding. This EP’s a fucking ritual, a blast of shadowy trance that’s got me hooked—crank it loud, let it rip, and join me in this dark goddamn dream.
You beautiful sum bitches reading this, tell me in the comments how this EP hexed your soul—I wanna hear your grim fucking tales! You can blast the full album on Bandcamp, so get your ass over there and dive into the trance!
Stay grim, you filthy bastards, and keep the black flame burning!
