AFI
Silver Bleeds the Black Sun…
RUN FOR COVER
Some bands get stuck inside themselves. Stunted by time or success, they end up becoming pale imitations of themselves—a copy of a copy of a copy. Sometimes it works (just ask AC/DC), but most often it’s a case of diminishing returns. AFI have never had that trouble. Formed in Ukiah, California as a hardcore-punk band in 1991 (“AFI” standing for “A Fire Inside”), they’ve steadily evolved their sound over the course of three decades, shapeshifting as time marched on and fashions and scenes (and hairstyles) changed. Not that AFI ever adapted their aesthetics or sonics to fit in. They were—and still are—the misfits, marching to the beat of their own drum, allowing success to come to them, as it did in spades with Sing the Sorrow and Decemberunderground in the mid-2000s as the band pivoted to meet the demand for emo-pop, post-hardcore, and screamo.
Silver Bleeds the Black Sun… is the band’s 12th album. Unsurprisingly, some two decades later, it sounds nothing like either of those two previously mentioned albums, nor anything like the blistering hardcore of their early work. It doesn’t even sound anything like their previous two records, 2017’s self-titled effort and 2021’s Bodies. What it does sound like, however, is a forgotten golden age of new wave music, a mythical time when Bauhaus, The Cure, Echo & the Bunnymen, and Red Temple Spirits were all the same band, with the tiniest bit of Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s weirdest moments sprinkled on top for extra flavor.
Long past the point at which a band who have been together for almost 35 years have any right to sound inspired and energized, AFI sound like the internal flame they take their name from is still at full force. From the jangly, atmospheric darkness of opener “The Bird of Prey” to the glowering, shadowy, high-octane ’80s dramatics of “Holy Visions”; from the exuberant decadence of “Blasphemy and Excess” to the widescreen, cinematic rumblings of “Spear of Truth”; from the jittery gothiness of “Ash Speck in a Green Eye” to the gloomy, synth-laden power of “A World Unmade,” this is an album that burns with dedicated intention.
Though the influences and tributes are obvious, these songs still shimmer with their own personality and identity. Listening to this album is akin to being caught in a time warp—the past, present, and future all colliding in one magnificent swirl. Yet while it harks back to another time and style of music, it never struggles, never gets stuck inside of itself. It ends with “Nooneunderground,” a hurried whirlwind of near-hardcore and campy new-wave that combines the restless evolution of AFI’s entire career into three minutes. It’s a world away from that opener, but then, perhaps time is circular rather than linear. Either way, Silver Bleeds the Black Sun… is a beautifully timeless piece of art, now, then, and forever.
