Black Metal is a complex beast. It has many legs and many feet planted into many camps. There’s Melodic Black Metal, Symphonic Black Metal, Atmospheric Black Metal, Depressive Black Metal, and the list goes on and on. And while that’s all well and good, and I do love a lot of different bands across the black rainbow of Black Metal, sometimes I just want my Black Metal to grab me by the t-shirt and slap the shit out of me. You know, the way it did when I first heard Darkthrone’s A Blaze in the Northern Sky or Immortal’s Pure Holocaust. Sometimes I just want a Black Metal band to come along and drop something in my lap like: “Hot potato! Oh, and by the way, we might have just made a fucking classic.”
Ladies and Gentlemen, today that happened. Today was the day my ears were laid siege to by L’appel du Spectre by 1928, a work so fucking good that I’m convinced more than ever that Black Metal is alive, well, and possibly living in France.
From the first few seconds of this record, it’s clear 1928 aren’t here to gently ease you in. They’re here to tear your face off. The production is raw enough to keep things grim but polished enough to ensure every strike, riff, and scream cuts through with venom. There’s no atmospheric intro, outside of a 30 second blast of the French national anthem, no ten-minute prelude to mood — just a straight-up assault, the kind that feels like being caught in a blizzard of riffs and howls, and you’re left gasping for air.
The guitars? Razor-sharp. They don’t meander; they fucking stab. The riffs are relentless and cold, but they never get bogged down in repetition. Instead, they keep shifting like a storm, finding that sweet spot between savagery and memorability. The drumming is thunderous without overplaying its hand — always pushing forward, always pounding like a war drum leading the charge. And the vocals — Jesus Christ. They sound less like a human voice and more like the wailing of something clawing its way out of the grave. It’s nasty, tortured, and absolutely glorious.
What makes L’appel du Spectre so fucking exciting is its sense of purpose. This isn’t just another Black Metal record in a sea of faceless releases. It feels alive, urgent, like it has to exist. It’s the kind of record that makes you sit up straighter, makes you remember what it felt like the first time you stumbled headfirst into this genre and realised you were dealing with something dangerous. There’s a purity to it — not in some corpse-paint-and-church-burning way, but in how it captures the raw, ugly beauty of Black Metal at its best.
And here’s the thing — for all its ferocity, it’s not mindless. There’s structure here, there’s intent. It’s not chaos for chaos’ sake; it’s chaos sharpened into a weapon. Every track feels like part of a bigger picture, pulling you deeper into the maelstrom, daring you to keep up. And by the time it’s over, you’re left dazed, battered, and already reaching for the repeat button.
In short, 1928 have crafted something that doesn’t just fit into the Black Metal landscape — it fucking stands out. This isn’t background music. This isn’t a half-hearted homage. This is Black Metal with teeth, claws, and an appetite. If you were worried the genre had lost some of its bite, this record will remind you that it can still tear you limb from limb.
L’appel du Spectre is available now from the 1928 Bandcamp page.
CHOICE CUT: Invocation
Black Metal Archives Verdict: Ferocious, purposeful, and absolutely seething with life, L’appel du Spectre is a reminder that Black Metal isn’t going anywhere. France’s 1928 have dropped something that feels like an instant classic — raw, relentless, and utterly fucking unmissable.
