Where I realised metal could sound like dreaming underwater.
By this point, I was feeling reasonably smug about my metal journey. I knew my way around a few subgenres. I could survive a conversation about blastbeats without breaking into hives.
Then Mike—because of course it was Mike—blindsided me with Alcest.
"One of my all-time favourites," he said, casually dropping a link to Les Voyages de l'Âme (2012).
I hit play.
Guitar shimmer. Gentle. Patient.
At 1:46, Neige starts singing.
And I just sat there thinking:
This is metal?
Alcest: From Raw Black Metal to Dream Architecture
Alcest started in 2000 as a raw black metal project—Neige (Stéphane Paut) screaming into the void alongside Argoth (bass) and Aegnor (lead guitar).
Their 2001 demo Tristesse Hivernale was pure frostbite: screeched vocals, raw noise, no hand-holding.
But after that one demo, Argoth and Aegnor bailed—and Neige was left to wander alone.
What happened next wasn’t just a pivot. It was an alchemical shift.
The 2005 EP Le Secret introduced a new element: shoegaze.
Translation: shimmering guitars, blurred vocals, and a sound less about assaulting you—and more about pulling you somewhere you barely recognised.
Alcest didn’t just soften black metal.
They mutated it into something new: blackgaze.
Raw pain meets reverb pedal. Blast beats meet cloudscapes.
Shoegaze 101 (Because I Definitely Had to Google It)
Shoegaze, it turns out, was a late-80s indie rock subgenre where musicians layered so much guitar effects noise that they ended up staring down at their pedalboards the entire show—thus the name.
Traits include:
- Obscured vocals
- Guitar distortion thick enough to swim through
- Feedback for days
- VOLUME (capital letters required)
Shoegaze mostly collapsed in the early ‘90s when grunge and Britpop kicked it off the stage.
But somehow, Alcest reached into its grave, stole its ghost, and gave it corpsepaint.
Les Voyages de l'Âme: A Portal, Not Just an Album
The opening track, Autre Temps [Other Time], is disarming in the best way:
Clean guitars. Crystal-clear vocals. No aggression.
Just an invitation to drift out of yourself.
By the time the second track Là Où Naissent Les Couleurs Nouvelles [Where New Colours Are Born] hits, it’s clear:
This isn’t about rage or chaos. It’s about escape.
The lyrics to Là Où Naissent Les Couleurs Nouvelles sealed it for me.
Even translated from French, they read like a love letter to somewhere just beyond reach:
| "I've always lived here though,
| Like a wandering stranger.
| On this earth, lonely,
| in perpetual detachment..."
| I hear in me the call of another universe
| Which resounds bitterly.
It’s not despair.
It’s longing.
It’s homesickness for a place your waking mind can't find anymore.
| "From here below I see my home,
| these eternal meadows
| lost in the clouds.
| Where new colours are born,
| where my heart and my soul have remained."
Neige isn’t screaming at the world.
He’s reaching for something behind it.
And somehow, the music carries you with him.
There are harsher sections—blastbeats, tremolo picking, even growled vocals—but they feel like storms breaking inside a dream, not breaking you.
And when that melodic finale kicks in at 7:21?
Yeah. Good luck keeping your feet on the ground.
Fairyland Metal (And Why It Works)
Les Voyages de l'Âme continues the theme Neige started with Souvenirs d'un autre monde: the memory of a "Fairy Land" he visited in his mind as a child.
Unlike black metal’s typical aesthetic (misanthropy, despair, Satan probably lurking in the woods), Alcest’s vision is hopeful.
It’s luminous.
It’s–weirdly uplifting.
Even when the songs lean heavier, there's always an undercurrent of yearning.
Not rage.
Not nihilism.
Longing.
The guitars shimmer under heavy distortion.
The vocals float rather than punch.
The drums (Winterhalter’s steady hand since 2009) keep everything grounded without ever pulling it down.
It’s metal—but if metal built cathedrals from mist and starlight instead of blood and bone.
What Hit Me Most
The first time through, I couldn’t figure out why I liked it so much.
The second time through, I didn’t care.
The third time, I realised:
It’s not about the heaviness.
It’s not about the aggression.
It’s about finding something in yourself you thought you’d locked away.
Les Voyages de l'Âme is proof that metal can dream just as hard as it screams.
And sometimes, dreaming hits harder.
Final Words (Before I Drift Away Again)
If you think you know what metal is supposed to sound like—
Play this album.
If you think metal can't be tender, or beautiful, or transportive—
Play this album.
If you’re convinced "metal isn’t for me"–
First of all, you’re wrong.
Secondly: Play this album.
I dare you.
[2025 Editor’s Note:]
When I first wrote this, Les Voyages de l'Âme was a new discovery—a portal into a part of metal I hadn’t even known existed. I had no idea how much this album would stitch itself into me.
Since then, I’ve listened to every Alcest album.
I’ve tried them all, explored them all.
But this one?
This one never left.
It’s not just my favourite Alcest album.
It’s part of me.
I first saw Alcest live in 2023—didn’t quite land the way I had hoped.
(The full tale of that emotional whiplash is on the blog, if you're curious.)
But then came Prophecy Fest 2024.
Inside the ancient Balver cave, everything shifted.
The moment Neige and Nicolas Horvath performed Autre Temps live, surrounded by candles and ancient stone, it felt like something snapped into place.
Like the universe was fixing a moment it had fumbled before.
It wasn’t just a concert.
It was the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.
I cried.
Unashamed. Overwhelmed. Grateful beyond words to simply exist in that moment.
And somehow, I even got to meet Neige afterward—have him sign my programme while I tried very hard not to combust on the spot.
I reported on Prophecy Fest for Stormbringer, but this memory belongs here—with this album that started it all.
With this doorway that changed the shape of my heart.
[Photos: me, somewhere between laughing and crying, and the cave where magic happened.]