My Review: My Beloved - November Sun

My Beloved – November Sun

Review by

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld 

8th November 2026

My favourite Post-Rock album of the year 2026

Song of the year: The Morning

To feel as though one is penetrated by descriptions that lay bare every secret.

To find oneself in places that have already been part of our past experience.

To rediscover, as time passes, moments free from fear or tension.

Depending on our personality, the three situations mentioned above can define joy or its opposite, in an emotional and rational turmoil that can tear us in two.

Here comes a piece of work that is nothing less than a concert, a live evolution, a controlled yet powerful experiment that leaves the doors to thrills wide open, allowing us to attempt to uncover hidden passages through a fertile imagination, thereby proving wrong those who think that instrumental music – and, specifically, post-rock – is the weak point of those who know how to play their instruments.

The band lays bare all the complexities of their home city, venturing into the tree-lined avenues of Frederiksberg (through the breadth and slowness of the visionary gaze that sweeps through the streets), bringing us the dampness of Christianshavn (when the guitar and bass come together, the rain falls and the soul grows damp), the bustle of souls in the famous Indre By (the sombre, tribal, albeit slow, drumming, and the sighs of a warm, passionate synth), offering a live glimpse into an urban agglomeration that lives and experiences existence.

There’s no need for voices, words or panoramic photos taken from above…

The layout of the Danish capital makes a music studio an extension of its lakes, a long journey towards the Baltic and North Seas, allowing us to swim whilst listening to these notes that reveal the boundaries of the seasons of existence, of the soul, of silent voices that in no way dampen the dynamic sense of wanting to live the life entrusted to them to the full and with passion.

*November Sun* curtails and expands every empty frenzy, teaching calm and patience through a distinctive portrayal of the connections between places and people, in a narrative that moves the reader with its precision and descriptive quality. It really does seem as though they – these four knights of sound – are in fact writers of sociological and philosophical treatises, poets wrapped up in coats with their collars turned up, on a journey towards defining what is happening without overlooking a single detail.

Indeed: this is the greatest – and wisely awe-inspiring – merit we find in this Nordic pentagram, through the study, exploration and interpretation of the events they have experienced, imagined, intended, and which took place without them acting as photographers or directors, in that they do not stage a story nor freeze it in still frames, but rather continue to live out their own experience and that of others through subjects unsuited to display but rather to introspection – which is, after all, what cinema and photography shy away from by nature and out of fear…

If, whilst listening or afterwards, you think this is an artistic project in which the guitar dominates, shapes and defines the whole, you’ll be in for a sound slap in the face from Vecchio Scriba: in this year of 2026, there is no other album that better defines the interplay not only of the instruments but, above all, of the textures and inspirations, in a dense, continuous dialogue that is both instinctive and rational, representing, through perfect dynamics, the full range of personalities at play in this truly majestic collection of sonic films. 

Seeing dreamlike, arcane, gentle and twilight-like situations paired together – right up to the fleeting ones – with echoes that celebrate action and memory, becomes an event of great magnitude, one that is difficult to manage and therefore fascinating, and which fosters personal growth. 

Powerful, skilful in opening up to the very heart of its rhythms, this work of art allows secrets to breathe whilst enfolding them within skilful embraces. The musical notes carry within them melancholy and emotional explorations, like a prayer that soars beyond the heavens, allowing the senses the chance never to fall asleep, to feel united in a rhythmic interplay that gives voice to truths, dreams, traumas and frenzy – all of which share a common thread of gentleness and controlled chaos. 

Contrasting colours (one need only think of the interplay between black and white and the red on the album cover),  which broaden the scope of vision, and those of sound (the alternation between evocative rhythms, rich in echoes and reverberation, and those that are more sinuous, almost silent and slow), form a cohesive whole, a perpetual descent into the inner self, into its channels of perception and expression, combining noise and silence in a Hamlet-like dance.

And then, strikingly, the narrative of the passage of time emerges through the use of the silent film technique, which forces the viewer to imagine the colours where they seem to be missing: indeed, it is undeniable that this is an album which demands a committed use of this kind of approach – skilfully honed to engage with these continuous, immersive journeys through the labyrinthine alleys of thoughts and events, so intertwined and interdependent…

Ultimately, it is not a musical genre that asserts itself or celebrates itself; rather, it is a journey that questions itself, enabling itself to accept and overcome its limitations, in order to move forward wherever there is a desire to take it – into a different, lofty space, one never before reached: in the specific case of My Beloved, that of trust, of personal needs realised through interlocking elements that unleash the orgasms derived from playing, transforming them into sonic poetry…

To describe them as individual songs or a concept album is, I believe, incorrect and inappropriate: I would say, rather, that we are faced with episodes with strong personalities, with ample scope to stand out, like those in a conversation that highlights differences and points of contact, thereby succeeding in becoming a treatise in which psychology and physicality meet at the same boundary. Yet they are never static, ponderous or intrusive, preferring the creativity of slow, animal-like movements, constantly exploring and safeguarding their own individual identities.

Generous, fertile, devastating – this pure yet hazy whole takes one’s breath away with its vehemence, subtlety, refinement, elegance and ardour. An expressive journey that tears apart those who seek a comfort zone in music. They, for one, certainly do not inhabit one: every single moment of this work is a walk on water, through the waves of the woods, along the steps of the sky…

The quartet releases toxins in the form of enchantments to be kissed; they apply the brakes just where we’d like to be left breathless by a mad dash: they are masters of magic, modern druids with just the right potions to bestow upon us unknown qualities, transforming the listening experience into the discovery of new layers of skin – all, incidentally, governed by intense shivers…

We thus find ourselves, willy-nilly, bearing witness to a narrative that is anything but modern, but rather a triumphant march of ancient forms and content, setting aside the thrill of novelty in order to restore to us that which we have turned our backs on: an intellectual, attentive listening experience, devoid of ambiguity and brimming with that culture now long buried. 

They prefer to remain grounded in reason and scholarship, celebrating the marriage between childhood and adulthood, and taking on the task of making art a space that brings together the true and the untrue, but never the false…

Take, for example, the most intense moment of this journey (so called because what preceded it laid the right foundations…): ‘The Morning’, a track considered by the Old Scribe to be the absolute best of 2026. 

Here we have a story rich in nuance, the centripetal forces that propel us towards cardinal points where our emotions can savour the benefit of losing control, leading to a triumph that transcends catharsis – like a celebratory act that never ends, aware of its eternal life, like a storm that ceases to frighten us but allows the water to continue to quench our thirst…

A delightfully heavenly moment of almost superhuman beauty: when music takes on this form, beholding it finally grants us the most perfect vision…

It is no coincidence that this work comes from the north, from the mind, from where everything begins and where everything ends: the Danish band manages to transform dance steps, from the joy of ‘Awake’ to the gloomy, trembling alleyways of ‘Hercules’, before throwing open the windows in the gentle ‘November’, where dawn and dusk gaze at one another almost in silence, with a faint hiss turning their dialogue into a well into which the guitar’s arpeggio plunges, only to transform into a march dictated by the drumming. 

When you reach the final episode of *Last Sun, First Tears* – which opened the series – it feels like a book in which everything has been written, yet, cleverly, the word ‘The End’ is missing, because this gem leaves the door open for a re-listen, like a cylinder of oxygen you simply cannot do without…

Out on November 13, 2026

Album link:

https://mybeloved.bandcamp.com/album/november-sun

My Beloved official site:

https://mybeloved.dk/

Instagram page:

https://www.instagram.com/mybeloved_band?xtok=OGIydGc3ZjZ4YXc3