Trait D’Union
Il n’y a Pas d’Ailleurs
Frozen Records
There’s precious little information about Toulouse’s Trait d’Union in English, or the band’s native French for that matter. What we do know is that the band released their debut in 2024, a mixture of the punk half of the post-punk equation with darkwave synths, and have followed it up with late 2025’s quite good Il n’y a Pas d’Ailleurs, a more polished but no less bracing effort. Where its predecessor felt somewhat boxed in structurally, the new record is less mannered and more comfortable charging into the fray, to its advantage.
While an obvious point of reference for Trait d’Union’s sound is the now ubiquitous Molchat Doma, thanks in no small part for their affinity for twangy guitars and touches of manic coldwave, the sound of the album is more vital and lively than that comparison suggests. A more apt reference is the hardcore by way of new wave being made by Home Front, albeit with more emphasis on atmospheric pads and reverbs overlaying the shouted vocals and snappy drum programming. It’s a formula that really works to sell the emotion of the songs; while the delivery of highlight “Rêver d’Envol” has the invigorating energy of a basement show gang chorus, its frigid synths and sepulchral production lend it a different emotional tenor, a sort of high test melancholy. It’s a combination that is powerful enough to cut through the deliberate cloudiness of the record’s mix; on a cover of the Mylène Farmer ballad after which the record is named, the sound of the twinned male and female vocals fight to keep from being buried under a massive wall of shoegazey guitar noise, riding the wave to a funereal organ-led outro.
That sense of emotional struggle is the thing that really makes the album’s best moments, especially when the songs are at their speediest and most baroque. “Hélas” introduces itself as a sparse bit of gloom, but as the vocals grow gruffer and more desperate with each verse, and more layers of synth, bass and guitar are piled on the track becomes anthemic, even inspirational despite its morose lyrical outlook. There’s nothing wrong with the songs that indulge the gloom, although given the choice between a perfectly serviceable bit of death disco like “Lendemain Défaite” and a primal cry of furious heartbreak like “Ni Muet ni Menteur”, it’s understandable that you’d favour the latter.
And really, that’s what makes Trait D’Union an interesting quantity in the current dark music landscape. There are plenty of bands making overcast music with depressive, but few of them bring out that feeling of kicking back against the encroaching darkness so handily. Il n’y a Pas d’Ailleurs might not make you feel good, but it can make you feel alive, invigorated and ready to push back against a hostile and joyless world.
