We Melt Chocolate. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

The language of romance, it is ultimately one that can send a shiver down the spine and a thrill through the heart is conducted with passion and mystery.

The feeling of being swept of your feet, or even teased like the light touch of a wicked bow on a taut string, is forever hanging in the air and like the operatic gala to which Florence once gave the world, so too does the silver tongued refrain in which the art of the shoe-gazing genre plough its love into the hearts of those who listen intently to the sound provided by a band that can justify pronounce that We Melt Chocolate, and the those who see temptation in this act are not wrong, for the Florence-based band We Melt Chocolate speak the language of enigmatic love.

Whilst opera is not to everybody’s taste, the language to which it exists, that of the cryptic and the clandestine is one that feels as is part of a narrative holding secrets, the whispered beauty held in the vocals almost shimmering like the moon as its reflection glides upon the possible torrential Arno River. It is the whisper of the alluring uplift in which We Melt Chocolate capture the feeling of Tuscany, and through the gaze of Italian romance, songs such as 12 Hours, Blue Hair Girl, Orange Sky, Space Girl and Golden Eyes play out with full eyed expression and dreamy, but nevertheless forcibly, with strength to the listener.

It is to the sonic atmosphere that We Melt Chocolate introduce themselves, the craft installed in their debut album one of curious attentiveness not normally found in any group’s first offering. The sense of depth is thought-provoking across the entire album, an intensity that burns but also soothes immediately, for a group of musicians embarking on their first foray into the unknown, We Melt Chocolate is a wonderful example of how to blur lines, of how to pull an audience in and leave them motivated by what they have heard.

We Melt Chocolate release their self-titled debut album on June 28th via Annibale Records.

Ian D. Hall