hope are in the black phase. everything around them is obscured. every lyric and every spark of music, every photograph and every recording is drenched in black. it’s not the black of wave or gothic bands, but the unpretentious black of portishead or talk talk. a black arising from a wound and at the same time covering the wound, burying it. a scab. a black letting you forget the jazz, the academics, and the provinces that hope has come from. in germany, jazz, academics and the provinces are very close, and hope had to live through most painful experiences, play many unnoticed concerts, and remain unloved to find the love for themselves and their music. only this explains the dark stringency and consequence of their self-titled debut album (produced by olaf opal), featuring monolithic songs like cell, kingdom and raw. songs, sounding rather like dystopic infinity than a light-hearted debut album. songs, compressed to one word, as if the listener should not waste any time with reading, but start listening. listen and dive into the endless hope wave of sound, vehemence and black. and yes, during all of this, the iconic singer christine börsch-supan is naked. we can only guess her contours - it is too dark.
