I have always been a simple man when it comes to music. Music, to me, is all about the emotional reaction it provokes. Sometimes I want a record to soothe me, sometimes I want it to make me want to kick out the jams, sometimes I want it to make me think, and sometimes I just want it to hate me.

Misères by Détresse does that last thing perfectly. It fucking hates you. It hates your family. It hates your ancestors. It hates people that you know. It hates the barista that gave you your cup of coffee this morning. It just hates you unequivocally and with a purity that borders on obsession.

It is, quite frankly, fucking great.

This isn’t the kind of black metal album you should put on if you don’t want your ears and senses assaulted by a wall of noise so aggressive and vicious that you would swear it was trying to crawl out of your headphones and strangle you. If that doesn’t sound like your thing then move on, nothing to see here.

However, if you want to feel utterly violated by a record then you need this.

Détresse are a razor sharp unit that, across the seven tracks that Misères offers up, manage to make you feel as if you are trapped in pure isolation while simultaneously being tortured by unseen assailants.

The riffs alternate between slashing at your flesh and beating you into a bloody pulp. The bass is so oppressive it feels as if it could overthrow a country and set itself up as a benevolent dictator, while the drums hammer into you relentlessly, only slowing down when necessary to bludgeon any parts of your anatomy they might have missed the first time around.

Vocally, the sound of hell being unleashed springs to mind, as a throat tearing growl is the weapon of choice. Imagine Lemmy gargling broken glass and you might be in the ballpark.

This is old school black metal. It is an album that wouldn’t have been out of place during the second wave of the movement, but it is also a record that doesn’t try and limit itself to that era’s production. Détresse might acknowledge the history of the genre, but they also understand that being tied down to a low-fi recording process is just nostalgia for nostalgia sake. Trust me, if Misères had been subject to that kind of treatment, it would have lacked the power it has and would have been a muddy mess. Here, it is clear, turned up to ten, and far more brutal than it has any right to be.

There is a clear theme running through Misères, and it’s one that should come as absolutely no surprise given the title. This is an album about human misery, oppression, deprivation and despair, and Détresse aren’t exactly the sort of band I’d expect to turn up with a collection of uplifting songs about how lovely everyone is. What makes it work is that the music doesn’t merely tell you that humanity is a miserable fucking business. It makes you feel it.

Compared to their debut, Pessimismes, the band have apparently stripped back some of the atmospheric passages in favour of a more direct, punishing approach. Having spent time with this record, I can certainly get behind that decision. There is very little room to catch your breath here, and any respite you might be hoping for is liable to be short-lived. The focus is on the riffs, the relentless drumming and those vocals that sound like they could strip the paint off your walls. It’s black metal without the frills, and Détresse seem perfectly happy to leave you sitting in the wreckage.

Misères is the musical equivalent of hate fucking, utterly uncompromising, and an absolute bastard of a black metal record. I wouldn’t have it any other way.