Which direction could Chelsea Wolfe take after She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She, which felt like both a synthesis and a rebirth – the start of a new cycle looking both to the artist’s past and her future? A return to something more metal? More acoustic? A transformation? Stagnation? As a coherent continuation of her previous album, perhaps the closing track, Dusk, offered a clue: hints of hope, a return to life, something more theatrical and less anxiety-inducing… With its title, however, The Dark doesn’t exactly give a solar first impression. Yet, on the album cover, the artist strikes a pose in full light, standing, facing the camera, exuding an unprecedented confidence – she whom we’re more used to seeing hiding behind her hair, sulking in the dark.
Indeed, Chelsea Wolfe seems more outgoing and confident right from the opening title track: her voice resonates powerfully rather than hiding behind thick, mysterious veils of reverb. The song’s structure, with its piano and chorus that eventually bursts forth, could almost feature in a musical (as we said, there’s now something more theatrical about her music). Above all, the production embraces a pop sensibility – something immediately accessible and free from the nightmarish elements of noise, drone or doom. The album was co-written with Jennifer Decilveo, who also worked on the production: having collaborated with the likes of Miley Cyrus, Beth Ditto and The Strokes, could she be turning our Queen of Darkness into a pop star (just listen to how Seethe – which starts with a post-punk rumbling bassline – evolves into a surprisingly radio-friendly hit)?
And above all, if that were indeed the case, would it really be such a dire thing? It may well be that, whilst listening to The Dark, you find yourself unable to fully recognise the woman who kept you company through your darkest nights. Then, you will also have to accept this change yourself so that it, in turn, may guide you towards the light.
Chelsea Wolfe brings the guitars more to the fore than in She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She, whilst the electronic, trip-hop and darkwave experimentation are less prevalent here (though traces of it remain, as on the excellent Humours). We particularly appreciate how the more doom-influenced elements do eventually make a comeback on Swallower, on the hypnotic Turn the Key – which echoes Abyss or Hiss Spun and highlights the obvious connection between Chelsea Wolfe and her ‘cousins of the darkness’ such as A.A. Williams or Emma Ruth Rundle, or again on Death is not the End (that recurring notion of cycles and rebirth). Overall, whilst The Dark once again synthesises several periods of the artist’s career, it is also a less tortured album, giving the impression that Wolfe is more focused on the world and the outside than on her own torments. It is sometimes said that as we grow into adulthood, we become less self-absorbed: she is indeed evolving her songwriting style, as if aiming for a form of universality, at the risk of the whole thing seeming less cathartic, less visceral. It's more about writing effective songs than about self-exorcism.
There is something that never fails to work and is enough to captivate us from start to finish: her singing. Rich, deep and full of emotion, it casts a spell over us from the very first moments and carries us along right up to the very last second, bringing depth, contrast, elegance and melancholy to every composition it enhances. Her voice remains the expression of her soul and lends a personal impact to every word, even when the lyrics may at times seem less intimate (perhaps the cumulative result of a less self-centred approach, her collaboration with Decilveo and this theatrical style). When The Dark draws to a close with Dancer in the Sky, the piano makes its return, accompanied by subtle backing vocals and violins, like an end-credits sequence that restrains its grandiloquence to avoid kitsch. The curtain falls on this sense of calm, this peace made with darkness, this acceptance that allows one to move forward.
We’ll have to get used to it: the young woman plagued by suffocating nightmares, raw and tormented, has emerged from her cocoon of shadows. Chelsea Wolfe seems at peace with herself, a confidence that goes hand in hand with her status of icon (just recently, her name was once again linked to a new perfume!). Aware of her shadow, she faces it head-on and brings it into the light rather than running from it. So yes, there is something in The Dark that is more pop, more sunny, more immediate, less tortuous, less painful, less haunted. We wondered if it was such a big deal; well, no, it isn't, and so much the better for her. Whilst this new album may move us less, whilst it may not haunt us as much as in the past (though haunting is indeed a trait specific to the past), it is nonetheless wildly elegant and of rare beauty, thanks to her performance, which remains as otherworldly as ever.
Rather than repeating her gimmicks and lazily confining herself to a self-indulgent image, as certain dark icons have done and keep doing, Chelsea Wolfe displays a refreshing honesty and artistic vitality. Yes, now that she’s turned forty, she could well become a pop star in her own unique, mysterious way… and, still, a bit dark nonetheless! So let’s see The Dark as her first steps into a new life, the foundation stone of a structure that won’t, after all, be a mausoleum, the sometimes still slightly clumsy beginnings of a career path that promises to be fascinating. Come on Chelsea, go for it – you’ve earned it. We’ll follow you wherever you want to go (but we’ll bring the parasol and the sunglasses if you carry on lingering like that in broad daylight)!
