Charnia – Dageraad
Charnia's debut album Dageraad is like a fog—thick, comforting and sometimes hard to breathe
I’ve been sitting on this review for months and months. Even if you’ve been writing almost every day for the past three or four years, sometimes you encounter things that are not only hard to put into words but also hard to take in personally before you can describe or retell them. Charnia’s debut album was released back in September by Belgium’s Consouling Sounds, probably best known as the home of most things Church of Ra, plus a bunch of other rad stuff like Caudal and Year of No Light.
Leaving the obvious references and comparisons behind, Dageraad is like a big black hole in the small, neat country of Belgium. Charnia’s music is contemplative and spacey, achieved through a carefully crafted, almost organically structured abrasive sound. The album explores melancholic ambiences, reaching post-metal climaxes through slow buildups.
You’ve surely heard plenty of music that evokes similar emotions. What this album achieves is a specific state of mind, the result of a deeply personal interpretation of the world, expressed through excellent musicianship.
Dageraad is not a groundbreaking album. It’s dark and thick, but comforting at the same time. Just like the Belgian fog in November. There’s not too much to analyze here. I find that feeling it is the most appropriate way to approach this record, because its power lies in the whole rather than in individual bits and pieces.
Another great thing about this album is that it exists in a place where few bands sound convincing: on the border between sadness, negativity, and perhaps even defeat. Balancing those feelings is harder than simply tuning as low as possible and playing as dark as possible. So not big, but huge ups to Charnia for being able to exist and create in such a complex realm.