Bastien Pons takes a midnight pilgrimage into the unknown on debut album 'Blinded'

Some albums greet you like an old friend at the door. 'Blinded' is not that record. Bastien Pons’ debut isn’t interested in comfort or small talk as it slinks into your subconscious like a moonlit fog, asking unsettling questions you didn’t know you had.

Opening with 'Babi Yar', Pons shoves you into a chasm of droning textures and tectonic hums that pulse beneath the skin. While on 'Black Clouds', featuring Frank Zozky, the tension coils tighter. Metal-on-metal clashes echo like lost voices in an abandoned subway tunnel, and each layer creeps closer until you’re not sure if you’re listening or hallucinating.

The title-track 'Blinded' stands as a sombre chapel at the album’s core, a still point amid the swirling dark. Instead of following predictable arcs, it pulses like a lone lighthouse beam, offering a stark reminder of your own solitude.

What makes 'Blinded' so captivating is its commitment to emotional honesty. Pons has crafted a work that feels like an experience, an echoing corridor of thoughts you tiptoe through alone. It captures the hushed moments between thoughts, the haunting spaces you visit when no one’s watching.

If you approach 'Blinded' expecting catchy refrains or easy catharsis, you’ll be lost. But for those willing to lean into the shadows and get swallowed by the abyss, Bastien Pons offers a rare kind of intimacy that is stark, spectral, and deeply human.