My Review: Clan of Xymox - Clan of Xymox

 Alex Dematteis 

Musicshockworld 

Salford

26 February 2026

Clan of Xymox - Clan of Xymox

Capturing the need to change boundaries, to ease tensions and transform them into personal hives, to illuminate restlessness and direct it towards shady skies is the sign of a clear separation, at a time (the mid-1980s) when much was in danger of becoming mouldy, of spoiling the gifts of a recent movement of thought. Europe was fortifying obedient masses built on lacerations, deceit and fine clothes...

Sensitivity, clenched teeth and smiles forgotten in the washing machine led three young men to experiment with loopholes, playing on instruments to create a horror spirit to be metabolised, filling everything with illusions, short but dilated sequences, with notes like postmodern sacrifices to be defined with delay, echoes and grey dust in order to deliberately weigh down their reflections.

A loneliness in search of an intimate space. And songs are sometimes an infinite but definable resource, in this context, to free spaces from uncomfortable habits. The Nijmegen trio's research was meticulous, assiduous, determined to make musical art a refuge and not a lure, to relate to their inclinations with the bravado of those who have the right places, spaces and shortcomings not to waste energy on dreams of grandeur that are harmful. Clan of Xymox write eight tracks to open up a fan of light in the sky they have deliberately lowered, generating almost silent flashes and thunder, with lamentations entrusted to guitars, and hallucinations through synths like soul excavators, in constant connection with the foundations of classical music. 

It is striking how synthwave and darkwave make post-punk a memory to be disregarded, bringing brightness to the grey clouds of a reality that breaks down the dreamlike aspect so widely used in the recent past. One senses how spirituality is considered a support to be channelled into everyday events, not as a resource but as a garment to be displayed, yet without attaching too much importance to it. 

The voices are like paint, cavernous liquids in baritone expression (Ronny Moorings) and vitriolic sighs (Anka Wolbert). They all play keyboards, sing and write lyrics, a rare episode of compactness and intent, with Pieter Nooten contributing his fingers to paint the interiors of feelings stuffed with melancholy.

John Peel calls them Darkwave songwriters, Ivo signs them to 4AD after a dinner in their town leads them to talk to Brendan Perry and Lisa Gerrard: certain nights are the first cry of a future that is already making its mark. In these eight streetlights, a funnel is born, a contagious heart attack, the timid courage to explore new modes of expression, like an album waiting to continue elsewhere, at another time... It all originates from an EP (Subsequent Pleasures) that arouses amazement and attracts insiders with a spasmodic desire for connection. The fact that Holland was able to bring Australia and England together in this way was a real surprise to everyone.

The atmospheres reveal the magnificent ethereal tendencies typical of British bands of that period, bringing together reverberations, fog, rain and wind to make Gothic romanticism a bulwark, a crossroads, a springboard and a blanket under which to seek shelter. Balance is provided by the essence of the musical theatricality of that period, favouring instead an immersion in expansions that develop the description of literary structures, of the feeding of existence towards the crudest and most specific alienation.  Chaos, a determining factor in this art form over the last twenty years, bows out here, leaving and watching in a daze as thousands of details proliferate throughout the songs, like cells seeking contact without raising their voices, often using the strategy of near silence to water the ideas. This explains why the songs that strike fastest are those to be experienced jealously in one's own attic, as they are able to gratify tears with the right dreams...

A credible album that completely buries the myriad of cultured bands obsessed with turning music into a stage, seeking to share their work in order to celebrate their ability to convince. Clan of Xymox go in the opposite direction: miles of intuition, experimentation, fossilised moments captured without necessarily becoming loops and deceptive status quos, preferring to calibrate the enveloping synth work, delegating to the drum machine the task of not dominating but simply being part of a complicated and moving simplicity. To make the ensemble of instruments a carpet aimed at procreating unexploded glass crystals that are nevertheless hypothetically capable of becoming lava.

A culture of two-speed anguish is practised, with the intention of establishing the point of cohesion between reality and fiction, in order to develop osmosis and concreteness. The songs are passionate vehicles, still devoid of the band's future electronic domination, but already forged by an apparent malleability, while, to be honest, the suggestions towards a slight danceability prevail, chords and notes suggested rather than exposed, to make us approach listening with the determined will to match ourselves to their notes. A work that seeks and finds international support from Central Europe, arriving slowly but surely in the United States, with vibrant word of mouth in solitary dance halls. The deceptive gothic aspect of this album is actually a golden opportunity to show how the Dutch band's music has no flag, is not a centre of gravity but a possible way out and escape, a daring balcony from which to observe new inclinations and needs. 

Every initial transformation requires patience, a rarefied and slow involvement, but undeniably, the three know how to generate enthusiasm, a candle in advance, joyful tremors while crying inadvertently, with the glacial mystery smiling.

 It is as if the nature of coldwave had found a cousin, in a moderate euphoria, which ultimately leads to jealousy and not possession. Unique work, a recognisable style, abundant references but never detracting from its merits make this work the outpost of a future that young people have wanted to inhabit for at least a couple of years. Promotion, sharing, and the deep ambition to be crouching cubs will allow the band peace of mind as the stages begin to increase, as does the dense adherence of new followers.

COX suggest that there is no need for the generous guitars of Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy or Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to give and allow gothic pills to permeate the mood of decadent smiles. More texture than riffs, more hints than presence, resulting in greater flexibility and proximity to the proactive aspect of souls that want to diversify, with greater inventiveness as a benefit. The ingenious use of the acoustic guitar makes them credible where it tends to be excluded a priori. The powerful production allows the songs to enter black and white films of various genres (from drama to thriller-suspense), to the point of being perfect even for documentaries, because all the compositions open up the gaze, gradually giving life to new, often intrinsic images. 

The trance-like atmosphere leads to catchy choruses, inspiring the listener to memorise distances and proximities as a tribute to creativity. Experiencing urgency, moderation, introspection and sentimentality, always within a genuflection of joy towards melancholic sweat, is truly impressive. Songs like ice cubes in which you can hear the heartbeat but not glimpse the well-being of the breath: in this coexistence (without forcing) a thin thread unfurls, made of nocturnal movements sheltered from all corruption. Listening is imprisonment, dancing is robotic mechanicality, resulting in a sudden, different, indecipherable sense of well-being. From here begins a revolution that will conquer the world: Clan of Xymox should be recognised for their role as drunken conservatives who seek to scratch away at history and fertilise young urges, writing a page that has not yet been consumed...

Song by Song

1 - A Day

The beginning is a procession of sound, water flying over the motorised pattern of the drum machine, analogue synth scanning the horizon with nostalgia on high notes and a bass like thunder searching for the right sky. The sound becomes a perfect gothic manifesto for 4AD, like quick tears on an electronic valve that develops axioms without fear of consumption....

2 - No Words

A more complex track, with constant modulations in the guitar, with a harmonic turn that suggests nostalgia and awareness, with clever singing that overturns short words, breaking the rhythm and raising a magnetic and magical dust. The arrangement allows for links with late 1970s England, with those modulations that embrace lightness, plunging us into absolute addiction. Even tears can dance... 

3 - Stumble and Fall

We enter the intimacy of the most uncontrollable rock, between dandy sweetness and synth and guitar interlocks, searching for the voice that illuminates with romanticism a text that tends to be attracted to a description of an existence destined for pain. When Ronny's vocal register rises, we get the impression that the whole song was waiting for that moment. Close to the decadent inclination of Momus and Marc Almond, the vocal pathos nails the music, pushing it to generate sensational empathy...

4 - Cry in the Wind

The heartbreak was probably waiting for this song to become concrete. Dark arpeggios shift into hypnotic velvety synths, the bass here is dry, linear, a fiery machine holding everything together to convey warmth and the need for change. The acoustic guitar lends itself to sterile comparisons (The Cure, Essence), as here it becomes a poetic continuity and not a mere technical musical aspect. The finale is a bitter, enthralling, definitive apotheosis, a delirium that takes us back to that of Is This Life? by the Cardiacs...

5 - Stranger

The fear, almost loved, sought after, exhibited, endured, which knew no opposition, as described by H.P. Lovecraft, finds its full potential in the first part of this single, a desert of slowed-down nightmares, leading to the purest of thrills. Then it is delirium of hypnosis and predatory flirtation, a changing scenario, a stylistic lesson that makes darkwave a new bridge, a journey with snakeskin skin, in a nocturnal walk. The guitar leaves whispers, while the rest of the musical apparatus aims to create visionary aspects, between an electrified Morricone and a more conscious Moroder. Glances, words, steps, places: an existential assemblage sung as if it were a hybrid, a thrill, a blind and slow resignation from reality. Suggestive, more than capable of revealing forces, the song is a masterpiece of effective, columned vibrations....

6 - Equal Ways

A romantic ballad in search of dark designs, a slow exposition of opaque crystals makes this gem a perfect moment to curl up, avoid dancing and rediscover mental balance, until the drum machine draws overlapping rainbows and lightning bolts, transforming this core into a monument of passage, of deliveries, a delicate game where rhythm and harmony study each other. Sublime...

7 - 7th Time

The bass line, later taken up by Madreblu in the song Primanotte, is a striking stylistic watershed, a door that opens up new possibilities for the Dutch band. One of these is Anka's splendid singing, which strips away Anja Huwe's disruptive nature and makes her human. The synth is a discreet travelling companion, almost devoted to silence, but when it comes to the fore it becomes deadly. Everything seems to be percussion in search of support, an ancient fairy tale full of interruptions and accelerations. Exciting, sensual, devoted to total adoration... 

8 - No Human Can Drown

The debut ends with a truly interesting, profound textual investigation, while the quasi-gothic ballad seeks multiple spaces, with a reverberation that covers the draughty rooms, incorporating light but significant echoes. An evocative finale, notes exposed to embalm, a tragedy kept almost close to a dark pop that inspires affection and attraction...