Music review: Paradise Lost – Ascension 2025 (Nuclear Blast), 8/10
Paradise Lost, pioneers of death/doom metal alongside Anathema (unfortunately disbanded) and My Dying Bride, are often remembered as the “Peaceville Three.” All three bands originated in the heart of England, bound by a shared destiny and the same label, Peaceville Records, a true pioneer of the genre. It’s worth remembering that in the ’80s the Internet was practically non-existent, and only with the arrival of Myspace in the early 2000s — later closed in 2009 — did the music world begin to transform profoundly. For this reason, back then all the bands mainly influenced each other due to geographical and cultural proximity, creating an almost natural bond between them. It’s a fascinating topic that we might explore more deeply in the future.
Paradise Lost have had a less linear career than the other two in terms of style, but perhaps also the most commercially successful. Ascension ranks among their top five albums ever, second only to Obsidian if we consider their latest phase.
Let’s move on to the album: 12 tracks just over an hour of music. This has always been a minor flaw of the band—albums often too long; trimming a few songs would make listening smoother. As always, the artwork is stunning—a true visual masterpiece that has become the band’s signature since the ’90s. The production, impeccable in its simplicity, frames the work with an aura of raw and direct perfection.The lineup is practically unchanged from their early days, with Holmes on vocals in great form, alternating moments of intense power with parts finally more convincing, deep, desperate, yet at the same time biting. Mackintosh on guitar shines, with integrated solos and inspired riffs recalling Icon and Draconian Times, often screaming suffering and funeral dirges in their lines.
As usual, Holmes continues to explore themes of mortality, spirituality, and human suffering with the poetic darkness that has become his trademark. To those who say “the audience expects us to get even more miserable,” Holmes replies that it’s not really the case: the band has always had this drama, sometimes dark and gloomy, and Ascension reflects all of that.
The album title comes from the belief in rising to a better place—in fiction, from Earth to Heaven, with all the requirements that entails. In real life, people strive from birth to reach a better place, to become better people, despite the only certainty being death. The album offers no religious enlightenment, rather a post-religious, introspective, solitary, existential vision—a spiritual consolation traditional faith no longer provides—where beauty and truth are found in the darkness of the human condition, not in the light of revelation.
The first two tracks flow quickly, full of riffs, choruses, and solos that easily lodge in the mind. They are classic Paradise Lost songs, different in structure and concept but embodying the perfect synthesis of what the band has been and remains up to Obsidian, with a touch of novelty. Listening to them, I thought, “If the whole album is like this, it’s a bomb.”
But from the third track on, the album slowly enters a less immediate phase, with more dispersed songs hiding extraordinary sections buried beneath bland, annoying, or repetitive structures and weak melodies, making it hard to fully appreciate each track, which tends to fall into anonymity.
Sad ballads like Lay a Wreath—with acoustic guitars and female choirs—never reach a real climax, offering a tedious selection of melodies that go nowhere. Or Saguave Days, perhaps even more of a ballad, which might appeal to those who love this kind of atmosphere.
This is followed by Silence Like the Grave, decidedly more hard rock but not memorable, and then Sirens and Salvation, two metal bangers that could have come from a ’90s Metallica or Megadeth album, at least vocally.
The last four songs instead grow slowly, awakening the listener with increasing pleasure. Deceivers opens the way to The Precipice, a true gothic metal masterpiece with growls, clean vocals, echoes, piano, and a desperate solo, ending epically with the line “…find a way, mark away, burn away…”.
Stark Town is a classic Paradise Lost track, with interwoven melodies reminiscent of Draconian Times, closing with Your harbour empathy, the sweetest smile in tragedy—a poignant and delicate image.
The album closes on a colossal, epic, classic note with Life Unknown, a finale worthy of their career.
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