26th June 2026
Christopher Nosnibor
Although they may have seemingly risen out of nowhere a couple of years or so ago, Papillon du Nuit, the ever evolving, ever-expanding musical project revolving around Stephen Kennedy, alongside Mika, Steve, and Karen (who between them cover vocals, cello, grand piano, guitars, keyboards, and percussion) is a coming together of individuals who have been on and around the ‘goth’ and adjacent scene in the north for some considerable time, to form a loose collective. Having debuted in October 2024 with ‘Scarlet’, they’ve built a body of work through a succession of singles – eight in all. Most acts would have simply compiled said singles to assemble an album – but not Papillon du Nuit, and certainly not Stephen Kennedy – because he likes to do things the hard way. The proper way. And because his roots lie in that 80s goth era where bands like The Sisters of Mercy grew their fanbase through a series of ever-evolving single releases but saw the album as a different medium, a means of creating a specific, thematically unified document. As it happens, Musetta sits somewhere between the compilation and standalone document, plucking a selection of those previous singles and placing them amidst the new songs, meaning that of the album’s nine tracks, five have been previously released, although sitting in the context of an album they feel different somehow. And as much as Papillon du Nuit embrace some elements of goth – or perhaps, more accurately, the gothic (think brooding atmosphere, haunting imagery, a sense of drama) – this is a project which goes far beyond genre, with strong leanings towards neoclassical, chamber pop, the theatrical, even the operatic.
As they explain, ‘The album is named after Musetta, one of the major characters in the opera La Boheme, who is enshrined with all the qualities, and all the follies, that make us who we are. Many of the songs here explore a mythical, almost mystical journey, with life displayed more as an inevitably straight path, rather than something circular. The songs are not about death, but many of them lead there’. Some may mock with a ‘pretentious, moi?’, but Musetta is a work which is fully committed to art, and therefore sweeps pretence aside in being the real deal. That Steve Whitfield (The Cure / The Mission) produced, and co-wrote some of the tracks is nothing if not proof of pedigree, as well as their commitment to delivering an album which goes to great lengths to realise strong intent.
Heavy breathing, a panting even. Tension. Suspense. Then comes the panicked whisper: ‘is it dark, or am I blind?’ It has a decidedly Beckettean feel to it. A piano begins to reverberate. This is ‘Jude.’ As a single, it arrived as a stark and curious hybrid of poetry, theatre, and folk with a prog-rock leaning and a sense of the epic. In a revised context as an album opener, it feels very much like an introduction, a passage into a vast musical world. ‘Pilgrim’s Arc’, the most recent single, released in October, is driving, dynamic, tempest of a composition, and makes for a stark contrast arriving immediately after. Immediately, it’s apparent that there’s no small consideration been given to the album’s flow and shifts in mood and pace, and even this early, themes of time and mortality emerge.
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The first of the unreleased, album-specific songs, ‘Natalie’, follows, and it’s cinematic, widescreen-even, with its string-soaked chorus, again building to a spectacular finale. It’s no criticism to say it sounds like an album track: it’s magnificently executed, and offers some respite from the experimental intensity of the songs which precede it, and the cello-forward ‘A Sea Within An Ocean’ is the work of a band spreading out and settling, stretching their limbs and simply composing to make music, free from the (self-made) pressure to record a single in a day, or whatever their previous process was. It feels looser, more relaxed, and the result is a rolling, hypnotic wave of a song.
‘Cello Poem’ – at a mere two and three-quarter minutes – feels like more of a narrative bridge than a song in its own right, and the spoken word segue links single cuts ‘Amber’ and ‘Ariadne’ – and does so quite effectively, in truth. It does, however, keep death as its focus. And I suppose this is the core of the matter. As they say, ‘The songs are not about death, but many of them lead there’. How many of the great plays, novels, or poems aren’t about death, at least in some way? Death is, after all, the only certainty in life.
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Where Musetta differs from other albums where death is a preoccupation or a focus is that this is an album which carries a weight. It’s in no way frivolous or posturing, it doesn’t take death simply as a motif: it’s a soul-felt meditation on the end of life. No glorification, no stylisation, but a philosophical contemplation. It’s this which makes Musetta so impactful. Not only is youth wasted on the young, but life is wasted on the living, by and large. That is to say, it’s hard to appreciate what you have until it’s gone, or slipping away, and while so much goth – and metal, and so much music of many styles, for that matter – is preoccupied with death in a conceptual way, there comes a point where it comes all to near, all too real, and here it gets scary – rather than a game of lofting skulls and a flamboyant delivery. Shit does get real, and we all have to face the reality of mortality. And at this point, it’s not cool, it’s not dramatic, it simply becomes a heavy reality. We start by losing grandparents, and parents, and often, in between, friends and peers. And when it’s your peers, you start to worry. And if you don’t, you probably should.
Musetta is packed with heavy moments – not so much sonically, but emotionally, philosophically – and it’s woven with a fabric rich in literary allusions and diverse stylistic influences. ‘Visionary’ is a word I’m cautious in applying to anything, particularly anything contemporary – but ambitious and accomplished, wide-ranging, powerful, and moving… Musetta is all of these things, and more.
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Aural Aggravation 