Out now
Words by Kris Peters
Going into the review for Satin White‘s second album Born – out now – all I know about the band is that they are German, and they rock, which normally would mean fuck all to me until I catch a look at the cover of the new release which features two smiling babies sitting in a resplendent white pram with children’s letter blocks below spelling out the name of the album.
For some reason, this wholesome picture somehow manages to have a disturbing feel, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. It just does and it’s strangely creepy as fuck. Which, incidentally, I like.
And then I see that Satin White is a duo comprising Carsten Kettering (vocals, bass, drums, virtual instruments) and Frank Schnitzer (guitars, choirs, background vocals, keyboards) and immediately my main fear of doing this review – having to repeatedly type out long-length German names when talking about the musicians in the band – dissipates, and I am finally ready to actually listen to the music.
Monster is first up, and my mind instantly conjures the worst, but things are set at ease somewhat by the opening strains of faint keys that almost sound like a rabid lullaby. A softly spoken but strangely eerie child-like voice sweeps over the landscape, and every time I feel like it’s about to get nasty, it pulls back and continues on its merry way. Although I don’t understand a word, it is mildly discomforting until a voice chimes in with something about feeding their hunger with you – which maybe means me – and things quickly turn into a children’s nightmare of sweepingly epic proportions.
Part Viking chant, part sinister bedtime folly, Monster is fully unsettling and foreboding, giving nothing away as to what might potentially follow, which, it turns out, is a song called New Born.
Chunky guitars replace the previous monotonous drawl and begin to soar majestically, suggesting a more upbeat track. But despite this, it seems Satin White aren’t a band of hope and fortune. They are more a band who wish to take you on a sonic journey, which is spread over the 14 tracks that comprise Born. Is it a concept album about life? It seems like it so far, but I personally have forgotten so much about childhood innocence that I am only guessing at this stage.
In another strange turn of events, the next song – The Ballad For The Moon – is listed as a bonus track, and suddenly I find myself hoping that I have received the tracks in the correct order, otherwise this review won’t be making much sense. This is a much more upbeat song with a skipping pace that suggests all is well at this particular stage of the album’s evolution. I still haven’t quite got a grasp on where Satin White fit into the sonic realm, but at this stage I am leaning more towards folk-influenced rock rather than the harder edge of the spectrum.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that – it’s actually a welcome change to be swept up in the grandeur of an album rather than be relentlessly pummelled – but this also sounds like an album with a larger backstory, which must be contained in the liner notes. The band keep telling me “this song is for you”, a gesture I greatly appreciate. Thanks guys!
Up next, Talisman has an electronic swirl resonating before the vocals kick in, and for some reason, I am reminded of a more rock-oriented version of the Wiggles. This very much sounds like a children’s tale directed at both the younger and older generation, while taking note to not intentionally come across as offensive to anyone in between.
Friend Song starts with a much tougher rock riff that soon gives way to the friendly vocals that reinstate the feeling of harmonious balance that briefly threatened to degenerate into madness before the morbid sounding I Die Before I Live restores the folkiness that has permeated throughout the album thus far. This feels like one of those songs that would be exacerbated by a campfire setting, with one man and his guitar singing a mournful passage into the darkness to tell a tale of unrequited love.
Up next, Lucifer promises something more out of the fires of Hell and starts with a thumping bass run that speeds things up a bit into more of a thigh slapping number before regressing into an almost spoken word passage that highlights the emotion intended through this song. When the guitars kick back in, there’s an underlying rockabilly nature to them that rises and falls throughout in a sonic display of disparity that makes the moodier parts darker and the upbeat section much more cheerful. Personal pick of the album for me.
We Loved Us is a shuffling fable of sorts, while Back To The Stars is awash with distorted guitars and Well Born is by far the most guitar led track on an album that is multi faceted in terms of intent and conviction, constantly leaning into a soothing anecdotal story instead of one that relies on shock and awe to dictate terms.
Low Born is perhaps the toughest sounding song on the album, complete with harmonics, sweeping broad strokes and even more layers of guitar, Forever Or Never the token album ballad before a song with the coolest title yet in Say How Are You And Fuck Our Earth rollicks to life with a more whimsical and friendly approach than the name suggests.
Leading into the final track Still Born I take a moment to pause and reflect on Born as a whole. It definitely wasn’t what I was expecting and 100% mellower than anything I have listened to in a long while, but it was also a refreshing change of pace to the disposable and frenetic music that punctuates much of modern music. What it has been is a meaningful body of work with a majestic tale of wonder and loss at its core that would be lost on anything with more urgent delivery.
Born is a journey inside the very fabric of human life, told from the perspective that things are bleak and perilous in the real world. Which is an honesty and decisiveness not addressed often enough in the modern age.
