REVIEW: Blackbriar - A Thousand Little Deaths

The night is frigid, and thick with spectral mist. You're lost in an endless forest, the overgrowth forming a labyrinthian maze of thorns and branches. Before long, your foot unwittingly slips into a ring of mushrooms and you soon find yourself leaving behind the world you know. As you take your first steps through the fairy circle and into this eerily familiar place, you realise, with awe and macabre fascination – you've now entered the haunting storybook land of Blackbriar. Since their first release in 2014, the Dutch symphonic metal six-piece have twisted fairy tales and mythological stories into songs, channelling mystique and magic through their sweeping gothic epics. At their beating heart, they're not just a band; they're storytellers, poets, theatrical folklorists. They’ve added consistently to their repertoire of stories, and show no signs of letting up as a third full-length collection joins their growing library: A Thousand Little Deaths.

Opener 'Bluebeard's Chamber' lures us in with an ominous keyboard overture, before thrashing drums and rhythmic guitars come crashing through the stained glass windows. Soon, we're being serenaded by the melodic vocals of Zora Cock as she recites the ancient French folktale of Bluebeard. She puts herself in the place of the tale's heroine, the soon-to-be wife of a noble whose previous wives have all mysteriously vanished. She finds herself overcome with morbid curiosity when she finds one chamber in his home locked tight – within, she finds the murdered bodies of Bluebeard's lovers. Through Blackbriar's interpretation, the story is recontextualised; it's the story of overcoming your denial of a hideous truth, but blaming yourself for ruining the perfect life that existed on the surface.

Second entry 'The Hermit and the Lover' turns the next page of the story with little introduction. René Boxem's drum work stands out especially on this track, the thunderous beat the perfect backing to the dramatic story unfolding before our ears. The vocals are haunting with their highs and lows, and guitars match it with their soaring tunes. This is immediately followed up by 'The Fossilized Widow', a tale that is ultimately about a woman frozen in time, who can't bring herself to let go of the past. Here is where the band's talent lies – despite their classical folk tale context, their songs carry timeless messages applicable to anyone.

The next story in this release is 'My Lonely Crusade', a track carrying slightly darker tones than the preceding ones. The guitars are especially grimy, and soul-stirring screams fill the air at one point to accompany them. The works of Bart Winters and Robin Koezen, dual guitarists, stand out particularly here with their symphonic riffs. After that comes a standout and favourite, 'Floriography'. It opens with quiet chimes and a soft vocal recitation before cutting into the atmospheric, eerie basslines that permeate this album. Despite the band's fittingly flowery language, there's no need to decipher through petals what they're communicating here. The message is clear – it's a voice begging to be spoken to, desperate for a message that will never arrive.

'The Catastrophe That Is Us' is especially operatic, a gothic soundtrack laced with tragedy and sinister riffs. There's a macabre sense of dread and lurking peril written between the lines of this track, rising to the surface when the eponymous lines are sung. Capitalising on the atmosphere set by this track is the follow-up in 'A Last Sigh of Bliss'. Immediately we're hit with an intense, orchestral wall of sound carried by imposing guitar riffs, and operatic, dramatic keys from Ruben Wijga, before Zora's familiar siren-song vocals make an alluring appearance.

'Green Light Across the Bay' comes in after, a song packed with references to F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Zora compares herself to the titular figure multiple times – she's standing on the dock, gazing longingly out at the emerald light in the distance; she's throwing parties in the hope that her love might show their face; she's longing to recapture a love long lost. While the literary references in this track are obvious, they're not as up-front in the following track, 'I Buried Us'. Instead in this lament for a doomed love, we're met with obscure mentions of Taxus - the Latin for yew, a pagan symbol of rebirth. She poses a question: if this couple bury themselves beneath this tree, will their love be everlasting in the afterlife?

Finisher 'Harpy' is where the album finds its namesake in one of its lyrics: "I have died a thousand little deaths." In this grand, orchestral epic, Zora calls upon the mythological harpy to take her away so that she might finally break free from the curse of eternally rotting and meet one more, final death. Interlaced between the vocals are the occasional screeches from the birdlike creature, driving home the inspiration behind the track. This one is painted in shades of Celtic rock, the chord progression offering a powerful, resplendent take on an often-overlooked myth and a strong closer to the album.

A Thousand Little Deaths is an eerie, macabre library of stories that is Blackbriar's best work yet, and hopefully indicative of what lies in store for their future. Like many classic fables, each song carries a moral behind it, a message behind the folk stories they tell. Some are teeming with literature and folklore references, while others are original pieces, but no matter what approach the band take, they have us fully spellbound. Only time will tell what the next page in the book of Blackbriar will contain, but much like the infamous harpy they sing of, we can expect them to soar even higher than before.

Score: 9/10

A Thousand Little Deaths will be released on August 22nd 2025 via Nuclear Blast Records.

Words: Naomi Colliar Duff

Photos: Blackbriar