There is something about the cover art for the new Twilight Sad [Facebook/Twitter] record that is disturbing. Even for a band who deal in almost exclusively dark imagery, the eye-catching sleeve for No One Can Ever Know is a whole other level of scary. Its intrigue is increased when paired with the album’s title. The phrase ‘no one can ever know’ hints at dark secrets, deeds committed in the dead of night that must never be spoken of. It’s just the kind of thing you’d expect them to call an album, in fact, but their third album is about the furthest thing from a ‘typical’ Twilight Sad release as it is possible to get – and it might just be their best one yet.

I realise I’ve just put my head above the parapet, but bear with me, because I’ve been living with this album for the best part of six weeks at this stage, and I am not making that statement lightly. In my preview piece last month, I likened the album’s sound to the peaks of the careers of Nine Inch Nails and Manic Street Preachers: The Downward Spiral and The Holy Bible, and since then, my initial reaction’s proved correct; it has the cold production of the former and the hooks of the latter, but this is no mere homage. It’s still very much The Twilight Sad, and it couldn’t really be anyone else.

Thanks for this must go, at least in part, to James Graham’s lyrics, which are a paradox of cryptic imagery and detailed scenarios, leaving the listener to fill in the blanks; it’s like he’s an artist who produces a complex sketch but deliberately leaves it at that, and the viewer is left to imagine what else might be. Just one example of this is album opener Alphabet, where, over relentless drumming and a soaring synth line, he captures the desperation of a relationship (I say relationship, but this is my own reading of the lyrics, and they are open-ended enough for any number of meanings to be discerned from them): ‘So sick to death of the sight of you now / Safe to say I never wanted you more.’

Having set out its stall, No One Can Ever Know immediately becomes more intense. The bass riff on Dead City is downright evil, and the song itself is six-and-a-half minutes of the band at their most claustrophobia-inducing. Even when the chorus hits and the song shifts to a major key, it’s only a brief respite, and after the second chorus, anchored by that riff, the song builds to a stunning climax, establishing itself as perhaps the darkest thing the band have ever done – though it’s given a run for its money by album closer Kill It In the Morning, which is driven by yet more menacing bass, and has the most impressive finish on the entire album.

The singles chosen from the record so far are arguably the most accessible songs on it: Sick is reminiscent of The Antlers, albeit with more electronics and a vocalist with a Scottish accent, while the propulsive rhythm section on Another Bed (not to mention a huge chorus) make the song immediately arresting, masking the fact that Graham’s lyrics are at their most menacing, loaded with ominous threat: ‘You’re breaking your back in the new low / I’ll find you, don’t worry.’

The album is nine songs long, and doesn’t mess about, each one of them composed to the highest standard, and containing at least one moment that is shiver-inducing. There are multiple layers to these tracks, too: in that respect, the new record is business as usual for The Twilight Sad. In most others, however (I can’t honestly say I thought they had a song like Nil in them), it’s something new, brave and completely brilliant. They always make an effort to experiment with their sound on each album, and they’ve pushed themselves so much that they’re almost like a totally different band now. They say change is good, but rarely is change anywhere near as good as this.

No One Can Ever Know is released on February 6th through FatCat Records.
[PRE-ORDER] The Twilight Sad – No One Can Ever Know @ FatCat | Amazon

Another Bed

Sick

Kill It In the Morning