The power of storytelling is well-known to Belarusian post-black outcasts Dymna Lotva. Their previous album, The Land Under the Black Wings: Blood, progressed that series through tragic true and folkloric tales, its overt tragedy in this sense bringing the real devastation wracking their native and settled home countries. Vyraj sees Dymna Lotva continue to communicate with stories. Taking its name from the Slavic mythological realm to which both migrating birds and the souls of the dead travel, there’s an explicit parallel with the members’ own emigration as well as themes of personal journey, life, and death. But there’s always been more to Dymna Lotva’s music than their symbolically powerful concepts, and Vyraj makes no exception.
Dymna Lotva already had somewhat of a winning formula in a uniquely executed blend of black, folk, and post-metal. They evolve anyway, bringing in and emphasising further an electronic side that ranges from shimmering, chimelike keys to soft symphonics. It’s never enough to overshadow the metallic and, at its best, amplifies the (melo)drama of the climaxes and adds more layers to the band’s nuanced and emotional sound. This new direction brings with it something of the anthemic, with songs reprising uplifting melodies, stepping into steady sways, and being narrated more often by a duet, if not a chorus of voices. Leading those voices is the force of nature Katsiaryna Mankevich, who once again absolutely kills it with her wrenching screams and solemn classical cleans. The music is more direct, due to all the above as well as a comparatively shorter runtime, with fewer tracks, each of which references the others through recurring motifs.
Vyraj condenses and concentrates Dymna Lotva’s characteristic potency and poignancy, which this time are tinged a touch more with the blush of hope than the blackness of rage. The urgent, cascading melodies ring with a thrilling solidarity (“Zory,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Ustań Za Mianie”) and the mournful soaring solos with bittersweet sadness (“Niama Darohi,” “Return my Coffin Home”). The highlight here, and also the crowning jewel of the album, is the centrepiece “Niama Darohi,” which practically hums with longing for freedom. It’s in these places that the new electronic elements work the most magic, spinning glittering counter-melodies or supporting the climax with subtle strings and fluttering keys. The atmosphere they bring is deepened by the way Dymna Lotva use the dynamics of rhythm and intensity to deepen their compositions and make them still more compelling. Variously whispered, spoken, rasped, screamed lines circulate spells amidst shifting tempos (“Veha,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Niama Darohi”); sung and screamed male and female voices call and respond and join together (“The Boat of Despair,” “Ustań Za Mianie,” “Return my Coffin Home”); and both the graceful lull of cleans and the vicious snarls of harsh vocals move in synchronisation with those of the lead guitars. This also serves to bring the fierceness into sharper focus, through emphasis and contrast alone, or the dramatic turn from this graceful tension into a building explosion of passion and electricity (“Zory,” “Veha,” “Viedźmieragina”).
All of Vyraj has a somewhat magical aura, thanks to the use of (children’s) group vocals and xylophone-esque chimes and ambience amidst the savage or sombre. At its most vibrant, it sings with so much feeling that I long desperately for a lyric sheet and the ability to speak the language(s) these songs are written in. The brightness of these highs also obscures the comparative dimness of the lows, where that fire seems to be missing, and mellowness and ambience win out (“The Boat of Despair,” “Bu Samoje”). This is some feat considering the fact that the overall production seems tailored to the increased electronic emphasis, which presses the beautiful layers together, and so the very aspects that lend Vyraj some new magic also weaken that magic’s power. Just a bit more space would do wonders.
But Dymna Lotva are not ones to fade into the background. They care about their stories and delivering them in a way that forces you to listen. Despite any unevenness, Vyraj has an intangible specialness to it that irresistibly pulls the listener back. This is a lovely, sad, empowering piece of art that deserves more than the length of its runtime to weave its world around you.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 7th, 2026
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