Hinin – Diagonales

Feeling nostalgic? Maybe some melodic, fresh yet old-school post-punk will help. With a deceptively vintage sound, French band Hinin started life as the duo of Adri and Anton before third member Pierre joined in 2023. You might already know the band from their previous EP and debut album, as well as their split EP with fellow French anarcho-contemporaries Litovsk. Together, the two are playing a huge part in this new wave of French punk revival. Hinin’s particular brand hints at moody goth rock, with elements of coldwave seeping into the mix too, plus a hint of whatever their national equivalent of Oi! would be.

“Hyakki Yakō” (Night Parade of One Hundred Demons) is proof that post-punk is alive and kicking. Lyrics, echoed powerfully in their native French, describe supernatural night creatures of legend, like yōkai and oni. Its title ties in with the Japanese theme following the band around (their name refers historically to the country’s term for outcast groups comprising criminals, the sick, the poor, and the working classes), and the guitars brew a distinct feeling of tension with splintering, tinny screeches and rumbling drums. It’s gloomy, atmospheric, and gives you the feeling you’re doomed, but in an entirely listenable way. Essentially, it’s Molchat Doma (without the curse of accidentally going viral on TikTok).

The more you hear, the more convincingly you’re transported back to 1981, straight into the heart of traditional post-punk. “Comme au premier jour” (Like the First Day) feels Smiths-inspired, with agile, jangly guitar tones and ethereal synth washing over humming bass and echoing drums. It’s like the whole thing was recorded in a huge, vacant industrial warehouse, the way the instruments highlight a resounding vacancy that eventually swallows every note.

“D’ordre et de sang” (Of Order and Blood) is a record highlight, reminiscent of mid-’80s Yugoslav punk rockers Van Gogh, as is “Avancer ensemble” (Advance Together), with its opening echoey distortion, swinging percussion, and light synth sheen. By now, you can tell the nostalgic ’80s nod is deliberate, with all its wavering clouds of hovering distortion and sullen, low-end snarl giving off heyday Killing Joke.

“Dans le noir” (In the Dark) uses big, heavy backing vocals and plenty of attitude against spacious, melodic chords, in a fusion that recalls The Ruts. An album highlight, it marries catchy pop elements with gnarly guitar licks and adds some classic punk chants for good measure. Along the same lines is the emotive “Perdu” (Lost), with memorable big choruses that work best as rallying singalongs you just want to join in with (even if you don’t speak French).

Elsewhere, “Élégie” (Elegy) deals with grief and loss in a less linear way than the standard, distant coldwave we’ve grown used to from Hinin. At times, there are power-pop sensibilities—the way The Cure might go about it, with bright, shimmering guitar and loud and proud drumming—though, at the chorus, there’s a devolution into reverbed, picky fuzz that you just wish they’d let fully de-escalate into chaotic discordance.

One track that begins to indulge this is the punchier “Cauchemars” (Nightmares). It feels familiar, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly it reminds me of. It’s some kind of revamped, ghoulish national anthem, only with audible scowls, fast-paced, stilted chants, and staggering guitar slides.

Despite some songs beginning to blend into one, there are more than a few highlights on Hinin’s second album—and it’s probably the most believably ’80s post-punk album I’ve ever heard (that wasn’t recorded over 40 years ago). Given that they’re often described as “melodic,” and you clearly hear this in their musical arrangements, it would be great to hear a more tender dynamic in the vocals, too. But for those of us weirdly satisfied by the sounds of bleak, gloomy nostalgia, with added driving attitude and intricate musicianship—we’re more than happy to join these outsiders.