Ashes and Diamonds “Are Forever” Review

Ashes and Diamonds “Are Forever” Review: trio fronted by Daniel Ash go all killer, no filler on moody, atmospheric debut album.

For over four decades, Daniel Ash has left an indelible musical imprint. From Bauhaus to Tones on Tail and Love and Rockets and his own solo ventures, Ash has mastered the art of moody romanticism, wry humor, and sonic experimentation.

Never one to chase nostalgia or trends, Ash continues to reinvent himself. With his new band Ashes and Diamonds, he’s found a fresh spark alongside bassist Paul Spencer Denman (Sade, Sweetback) and drummer Bruce Smith (Public Image Ltd., The Pop Group). Their debut album, Are Forever (out October 31 via Cleopatra Records), blends instinct and evolution: ten days of initial sessions stretched into seven years of refinement.

Their debut album Are Forever, out October 31 via Cleopatra Records, emerged from both spontaneity and slow burn: ten days of recording, seven years of evolution. Ash, Smith, and Denman began trading ideas in a modest Los Angeles rehearsal space before the pandemic forced them into remote collaboration.

This delayed the projection longer than expected but allowed the album’s compositions to age like bittersweet wine. The result was well worth the wait.

Ash, ever the restless experimenter, turned to tawdry news headlines as lyrical fuel, using William Burrough’s cut-up technique to craft a series of vignettes that feel ripped from reality yet filtered through a surrealist lens that perfectly elevates the trio’s compositions. This approach, combined with the group’s sinister yet sensual interplay, proves aurally intoxicating.

The opener, “Hollywood,” is pure dystopian noir: drum’n’bass tension, cinematic sirens, granulated vocals and Ash’s patented E-bow guitar shimmer. It feels like scrolling the headlines with a hangover, hypnotic and detached, encapsulating the grit and grime that lies behind the city’s glittery facade

“Teenage Robot” is a pulsating dark disco sci-fi confection. Its lines about vanity, sin, and self-destruction glide over undulating synths reminiscent of Tones on Tail’s “Lions”. It’s danceable existentialism, the perfect fusion of Ash’s sardonic humor and melancholy.

Then comes “On A Rocka,” a revved-up glam stomper that opens with the sound of a motorcycle and dives headlong into sleazy fun. In my recent interview with Ash, he dubbed it “numbskull music” but it’s also cathartic noise therapy, and a romantic ode to Ash’s love of motorbikes.

Ash’s lyrical voice often hovers between playful detachment and bruised vulnerability. On “Boy or Girl,” his cooing falsetto toys with gender fluidity and identity politics: “Your girlfriend is your boyfriend now / When you gonna learn?” The delivery is both teasing and tender, the kind of ambiguity he’s perfected since Love and Rockets.

There’s levity too. “Ice Queen” features wonderful absurdist wordplay amidst glacial soundscapes, while “Setting Yourself Up for Love” strips things back to pure emotional push and pull: “Do you want it or not?” he asks, both lover and cynic, with a guitar riff akin to a jet engine.

Later tracks stretch out into space. “Alien Love” smolders with cosmic blues and weary sensuality, with Ash whispering through fuzz and echo. “Champagne Charlie” closes the record with sardonic glamour: prickly guitars, and lurid imagery, crafting a portrait of a desperate man chasing transcendence down the PCH.

Through it all, Smith’s intricate percussion and Denman’s fluid bass hold down Ash’s mercurial instincts. The trio’s chemistry is undeniable, equal parts elegance and chaos.

Ash has stated that he’s all in with Ashes and Diamonds, staking their musical future on Are Forever’s commercial prospects. One roots for its success, anxiously anticipating the group’s next musical chapter.