Believe it or not, it’s not all baguettes and Ed Banger breakbeats round France’s way. Sure, their dance scene gets more attention that a bikini model at a D&D convention, but lurking in the shadows left by the glittering disco balls and spangly strobe lights is a metal underground, led by ferocious black metal hordes like Antaeus, Glorior Belli, Wolfe and Obscurus Advocam, that’s just dying to sink its talons into the rest of the world.

Perhaps the youngest and most audacious of all the underground French practitioners, Year of No Light stand out not only for their lack of corpse paint or black metal aspirations, but for their sheer impudence, blending buzzing, trip-the-light-fantastic guitars with pummeling breakdowns and roaring crests of Hum-like dynamics into gorgeous strains of splendor and vitriol. Like a storm reaching over the horizon, Nord is alternately beautiful and beguiling, swooping in with cascades of wistful, minor-key guitars before erupting in a blaze of streaking electric grandeur and sky-melting crescendos. What’s most impressive, especially given their age, is how they’ve drawn from their heroes without ever sounding like them, and from the petrol-drenched distortion-and-pathos of “Librium” to the swirling cacophony of sound and fury that is “Prosodia” you’ll hear strains of familiarity, but they are quickly dashed to bits by YONL’s ferociously ethereal attack.

They might be young, but YONL already know better than to forsake atmosphere for dynamics; that they’ve got as much in common with the ace shoegazer bands (Ride, Swervedriver and My Bloody Valentine) that used to call Creation Records home as they do with Neurosis or any of their art-metal minions is fantastic news for everyone sick of listening to their metal drown in a sea of mind-numbing repetitiveness. What’s more, given Nord’s dynamic complexity and epic sprawl, it becomes easy to forget that this is only the first chapter in their evolution, and given the stunning results of this initial outing, the future could very well belong to Year of No Light. – Jason Jackowiak (2007, The Daily Copper)