Green Carnation – A Dark Poem, Part I: The Shores of Melancholia
- polsty00
- Sep 16
- 2 min read

Green Carnation – A Dark Poem, Part I: The Shores of Melancholia
Out now via Season of Mist
Green Carnation are back swinging with a vengeance, and The Shores of Melancholia feels less like a comeback record and more like a bloody statement of intent. The first entry in their ambitious A Dark Poem trilogy, this album proves once again that the Norwegians aren’t interested in half measures. If 2020’s Leaves of Yesteryear hinted at rebirth, then this release is the band stepping fully into their second life — older, wiser, and still willing to push the envelope until it bleeds.
Opener As Silence Took You wastes no time dragging listeners into the abyss, weaving progressive melodies with melancholic weight. Kjetil Nordhus delivers a vocal performance dripping with raw fragility, perfectly balancing against Stein Roger Sordal’s bass and Jonathan Alejandro Perez’s sharp, textured drumming. The follow up, In Your Paradise, channels the band’s Blessing in Disguise era, with hooks catchy enough to stick in your head long after the lights go out.
Me My Enemy is the record’s emotional centerpiece, marrying a spacey groove with aching lyricism that hits harder than a pint glass to the skull. In contrast, The Slave That You Are snarls with feral aggression, bolstered by guest vocals from Enslaved’s Grutle Kjellson — a clever nod to Norway’s extreme metal legacy. The title track is all mood and shadow, a haunting reflection matched perfectly by Niklas Sundin’s evocative artwork. And then there’s the closer, Too Close to the Flame, a near ten minute epic that fuses progressive ambition with searing emotional honesty, the kind of track that makes you want to hit repeat before the silence has even settled.
Production is crisp yet organic, giving each instrument room to breathe without sacrificing punch. Endre Kirkesola’s mix ensures that every nuance, whether Ingrid Ose’s delicate flute or the crushing guitar interplay between Tchort and Bjørn Harstad, lands with maximum impact.
What makes The Shores of Melancholia so bloody compelling isn’t just its scope, but its sincerity. This is an album crafted by a band that’s lived, fractured, and clawed its way back together. It’s heavy without being oppressive, proggy without being pretentious, and emotional without slipping into melodrama.
If this is just part one of the trilogy, then fans better buckle up. Green Carnation have made it clear, they’re not just revisiting old glories, they’re writing a whole new chapter, and they’ve still got plenty of fire left in the tank.

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