Things are moving fast for PVRS. Jean-Pierre Mottin (vocals, guitar, bass) and Twan Landrin (drums) began their joint adventure in 2023, releasing their first album in early 2024. A year and a half later, Let the Silence Begin is already their second. Continuity is ensured right from the artwork, with its partially hidden and damaged faces: the Belgian duo sings about their wounds and torments.
Conceived as a selection of personal stories, Let the Silence Begin starts off strong. A distant lament, a piano... Fraktal swells and explodes, with Mottin's high-pitched, expressive vocals immediately establishing themselves as one of PVRS's most notable personality traits. It brings to mind Einar Solberg's impetus in Leprous, that same blend of power and vulnerability. Nevertheless, our attention is quickly drawn to something else: the gutsy drums, each beat heavy with a funereal weight, the fog of reverb, the cold echoes of cold wave that give the doom its gray, suffocating hue. Sommeil Refuge, the anguish of Hangman's Chair meets the raw despair of The Devil's Trade: it's overwhelming, sad, and beautiful.
More than on their first album, PVRS embraces their non-metal influences. The atmospheres are more refined, the vocals clearer. And that's a good thing, because it's when their riffs, weighed down by the full force of existence, meet introspective atmospheres that PVRS finds its grace. The piano, particularly in the intro to Dead With You, is a real bonus. Solitude, night, addiction... the themes are contemporary, both intimate and universal. The performance is full of visceral rage; you can feel that it comes from within, that PVRS has a need to extirpate all this darkness in order to try to catch a breath of fresh air, a ray of light. The riffing is simple but unstoppable, as are the rhythms: there's no technical demonstration here, everything is at the service of emotion, taking us on an hypnotic inner journey. But that doesn't prevent a few constructions that lose us in intimate labyrinths (Lonely Nights, TKTX, Beneath the Ruins) where we happily wander.
With its pronounced reliefs, cold mists, and visceral melancholy that manifests itself as much in dazed and apathetic despondency as in fiery outbursts, PVRS juggles nuances and emotions. It's done with enough sincerity and personality that we can forgive a few repetitions or predictable phrases here and there. It's perfect for wandering around in winter, ruminating on loneliness and failure, and contemplating the emptiness of the night. You're welcome.
