by Angela Dauthi
The music caresses me like a soft tongue, stroking my mind and body. How can I explain what separates Corpus Delicti from other Goth bands? A feeling, from the very core of my heart, creeps outward. A feeling like scales… Serpentine. Sarabands twists and weaves organically, unlike so much that has passed through our office. Sebastian’s voice is deep, heavy, and refined. It touches me, weighs me down, covers me. The percussion is wider than ordinary, stretching beyond the confines of the expected, full of twisting hips and quivering muscles. With the exception of a David Bowie cover (“Suffragette City,” and why doesn’t some band do a Bowie cover that’s a little less known, like “She Shook Me Cold” or something? Just wondering), the music is sensuous, confident.
Maybe their difference comes from living in France – country of monuments, art, and underground crypts – a country known for its decadence. Maybe because they combine so many of the best elements and bands into their songs. Traces of Christian Death, Dead Can Dance, The Wake, and Mephisto Waltz are found here, and can rightfully be called “influences” rather than the standard rip-off techniques (and poor techniques at that) that bands usually employ. Sarabands is an album that has stayed in my CD player ever since it was given to me, and it hasn’t even gotten close to boring yet. I’m always hearing a new part in a song, a new undulating guitar line, and it never fails to inflame and incite me to stand up and do something. The results are always rewarding.