There are albums I circle around like a wolf, too unsure to bite into. Reflections of a Sad Soul was one of those—at first. Not because it’s bad (oh no), but because I didn’t know how to survive it, let alone describe it.
But then I looped it. For a week straight. And like a ghost whispering the same line over and over again in your hallway at 3am—it got in. So now I have to write about it, whether I’m ready or not.
A Pit Called DSBM
I stumbled into Nocturnal Depression while nose-diving into the abyss that is DSBM: Depressive Suicidal Black Metal. Yes, that’s a real genre. Yes, it sounds exactly like you think.
DSBM is an umbrella term for an arrangement of metal styles. Some bands skip the suicidal part and call themselves Melancholic Black Metal, Depressive Black Metal, or Atmospheric Black Metal. Musically, DSBM bands meld the second-wave black metal style with doom metal elements.
You’ve got lo-fi recording, distorted guitars, and tormented shrieks—but also acoustic guitars, slow to mid-tempo pacing, and an overwhelming sense of decay. The lyrics? Suicide, self-harm, nihilism, death, sorrow.
Cheery stuff.
But sometimes... we like it dark.
Enter the French
Nocturnal Depression was formed in France in 2004 by Herr Suizid (drums, guitars, bass—because why have bandmates when you have depression) and Lord Lokhraed (vocals and rhythm guitar).
They call themselves Depressive Black Metal/Atmospheric Metal. I call them emotionally ruinous.
My first taste was Her Ghost Haunts These Walls—track four on Reflections of a Sad Soul .
Ten minutes of repetition so obsessive, so relentless, it crawled into my brain and rewired something.
Let’s be clear:
It’s one melody.
For ten minutes.
Lokhraed's vocals are more anguish exorcism than singing.
But holy hell, it works. It’s bleak, broken, and beautiful.
The Album Itself
The full album clocks in at 66 minutes across seven tracks (and no, you’re not allowed to be happy during any of it).
The Whispering Spectrum: I usually skip it. It's a standard-issue black metal intro—the kind of thing that thinks it’s setting the scene but mostly just makes you check if your headphones are working. It ends with a gunshot, though, which yanks your brain back into the room if you’ve already mentally checked out. Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Annoyingly, also yes.
Fading Away in the Fog: The lone wolf that picks up the pace. There’s tremolo picking! Drums that don’t sound like they’re drowning! Almost fun—if your definition of fun is slowly freezing to death in the Alps.
Solitude and Despair: An instrumental breather. Just a sad little guitar riff spiraling for seven minutes straight. It’s gorgeous, it’s hollow, and it hurts.
Her Ghost Haunts These Walls: Already covered. This song IS the album.
Nevica & Voices from Inside: Now we’re talking. These are the ones I keep returning to, like a masochist poking a bruise. Voices from Inside, in particular—there’s a clean guitar passage around 5:50 that always wrecks me. Lokhraed wails like he’s trying to claw his soul out through his throat. It’s almost too much—which makes it perfect.
The Trance
Look. This isn’t for everyone. If "Depressive" and "Suicidal" in the genre name already made you close the tab, you’re not coming back. But if you get it—if you crave that melancholy slow-burn—then Reflections of a Sad Soul delivers.
Put on Her Ghost Haunts These Walls, Nevica, and Voices from Inside. Let the melodies repeat until they fuse with your bones. Let Lokhraed’s voice become indistinguishable from your own internal screaming.
And when it ends?
You’ll feel lighter.
Not because it’s hopeful—because it exorcised something.