Few bands have endured the ages like Clan of Xymox. Led by the ever-enigmatic Ronny Moorings since the early 80s, the Dutch band has survived four decades of shifting cultural epochs, from the post-punk genesis of the '80s to the digital gothic renaissance of the 21st century. Their latest effort, Exodus, is an elegy for a world fraying at its seams, reflecting solitude and disillusionment. Perhaps their most austere work to date, it remains imbued with the melancholic grandeur that has long defined their sound. For those eager to experience Exodus live, Clan of Xymox will bring their signature gothic and darkwave sound to Control Club on Saturday, March 22.
Initially signed to 4AD, their early works, Clan of Xymox (1985) and Medusa (1986), put them among the luminaries of goth (Dead Can Dance, The Cure, et al.). While the late '80s and early '90s saw flirtation with synthpop through Twist of Shadows and Phoenix, the late '90s marked a return to darkwave with Creatures and Notes from the Underground.
Exodus continues through a dystopian atmosphere that mirrors Moorings’ discontent. Songs like Save Our Souls and Fear for a World at War confront our ever-present political anxieties through dread-laced propulsivity. In the former, Moorings' brooding delivery implores: "See all the others, helping each other, all men are brothers, leaving now their mothers." Thematically, war, instability, and existential despair are not abstract notions on Exodus. They are direct responses to an uncertain future. This thematic weight is nothing new for Clan of Xymox, but it feels particularly urgent on Exodus.
But beyond its bleak meditations, Exodus also effectively balances gothic rock and darkwave. I Can See Miles Across and The Blood of Christ showcase this interplay of slow-burning dirges and more club-ready arrangements. X-Odus also stands out with doom-fused danceability, addressing the plight of displacement: "They don't leave, they are forced to go, they don't plead, they're in the know." The instrumental piece Arcanus then acts as an eerie interlude between structure and reprieve before the album’s conclusion, Once Upon A Time, provides its most evocative moment. It is a meditation on loss and renewal that leaves no resolution, only the realization that all things, even despair, are cyclical.
As Exodus finds its place in Clan of Xymox's healthy discography, it reminds us that in darkness, there is beauty, and in sorrow, there is dance. It is an album that absorbs despair into a requiem that pulses with electro-goth life—a world crumbling in slow motion with a beat too infectious to ignore.
