The greatest embarrassment a music journalist can experience isn’t accidentally misquoting what an artist said in an interview. It’s not asking a thoroughly banal question during an interview and not realizing how dumb it was until after the conversation concluded. It isn’t even rocking out at a concert, hard, for everyone to see, because the line between critic and fan can be so paper thin.
No, the real, deep-seated — even primal — despondency that courses through a music journalist’s body, shakes them to the core and compels them to reevaluate whether their opinion actually has any value whatsoever comes when the purportedly professional scribe “discovers” an exceptional musical talent, only to realize that thousands, or tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of people caught onto the musician or band long before the supposedly intrepid journalist stumbled across them.
No one seemed to notice, but yours truly felt utterly ashamed in December after stumbling across blackgaze phenom Sadness and thinking the artist’s career was nascent. Turns out Damián Antón Ojeda (a.k.a. Elisa) launched the one-person project all the way back in 2013 and has released piles upon piles of records between then and now. Sadness also has a rabid fanbase, as evidenced by the 3,400 people who viewed our conversation on YouTube.
After sulking in self-pity for a spell, a new way of coping with the Sadness oversight arose. As Ojeda/Elisa frequently collaborates with other musicians who must be talented in their own right if Sadness chose to join forces with them, it made sense to start exploring some of those comrades. The experiment proved to be a success right away; after spinning a split EP called Dusk Garden that came out in October, we became introduced to the other participant, a musician from the Scottish Borders, south of Edinburgh, who goes by the name Lux and, like Sadness, has an affinity for post-black metal.
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The Bad Penny (beta) 