Review: The Devil’s Trade ‘Nincs Szennyezetlen Szép’

The Devil’s Trade has undoubtably been one of my favourite musical discoveries in recent years. Hungarian singer/songwriter Dávid Makó (formerly of Stereochrist) has been dissecting raw emotions under the moniker since 2014’s Those Miles We Walked Alone.

A little over a decade ago, having stepped away from the searing doom and hardcore swagger of the band he fronted for five years, Makó struck out as a solo artist, often performing alone with just a banjo or acoustic guitar. Back then The Devil’s Trade drew more on Appalachian folk, dark Americana, and his own native Hungarian traditions.

The Devil's Trade'Nincs Szennyezetlen Szép' Artwork
The Devil’s Trade ‘Nincs Szennyezetlen Szép’ Artwork

The southern-fried, country-style music was light and minimalistic, but stood out thanks to the starkness of the emotions on display. Makó‘s incredible vocals manage to articulate pain and intimate sorrow in an authentic manner that frankly, I have heard few artists achieve.

As The Devil’s Trade evolved, so naturally did the music and in 2020 underwent a huge shift in sound. Moving from the twang of earlier works, Makó gravitated back towards a doom ethos, without attempting to retread old ground. The result was the devastating The Call Of The Iron Peak, one of the bleakest and doomiest of doom albums I have ever heard, but one that featured no drums, no guitars – just David, a banjo, and some traditional folk instruments from his homeland. Utterly desolate and heart-achingly soulful, it used emotions and quiet dynamics to pull you under and overwhelm you with despair until the battered remnants of your psyche are an exhausted, whimpering mess.

Since the aftershock of that release, including a special collaboration with LLNN techno offshoot John Cxnnor (Live At Roadburn, 2022), The Devil’s Trade continued to expand the sound and added friend Gaspar Binder to play drums as Makó filled out the sound on 2023’s Vidékek Vannak Idebenn, giving a more rounded feel.

Now this dark, confessional outlet is back again. Binder once more assisted with the creation of the drum parts as David, alongside best friend Márton Szabó, manning the producers chair, looked to utilise even more dynamics and create a more metal-wrought sound than previous albums.

According to the press release, Nincs Szennyezetlen Szép is an elegy to his late mother, which no doubt puts into perspective the pain and fragility of the human experience. Recorded during the two-week period between the event and the birth of his son, he also enlisted the skills of engineer Szabolcs Szűcs and Nikita Kampard to handle mastering duties and alleviate some of the pressure. This move has paid dividends in terms of the sound, as the recording pops from the speakers in a manner that ups the ante and allows the listener to get right to the core of the compositions.

The striking timber of opener The Sleep That Dragged You Awayrings like a sledgehammer on a blacksmith’s anvil as The Devil’s Trade officially gives way to crushing doom. As the music strips back for the first verse, David’s distinctive, rich baritone voice – backed by insistent drumming and long, creeping chords – envelops you with his accented drawl that distils pure emotion.

Weltschmerz (German for ‘the psychological pain caused by sadness’) is introduced by delicate keys, but these are swiftly banished by feedback and heavy stabs of doom. The ringing notes, accented by cymbal work from Gaspar, create a juxtaposition where the low-end batters violently, but is punctuated by light, fleeting melodies. Unlike his 2020 magnum opus, here Makó is unafraid to repeat the melodies, strengthening the depth of the track and shining a light on all the textures through the production.

one of the best artists bearing his soul right now and this latest album proves it…

The quiet builds tension until the moment his voice soars and the track lets go until the strain almost becomes too much weight to bear. The guttural frustration cracks through and descends into anguished rasps. Despite the tease of relief, the ending becomes a sonic force de majeure that overwhelms you.

This is the theme in his document of unflinching confession that is returned to again and again, writ large on the more dynamic canvas that the expanded instrumentation offers. The words may be indistinguishable at times (due to my singular lack of language skills), but the gravity and world weariness is palpable as they form between the lurching stomp.

The keyboards are used to great effect, creating light and shade on tracks like Your Pieces Scattered. Here, gentle, strummed moments of softer musings linger before the burn of the guitar raises the temperature.

All This Sadness forms an atmospheric, droning instrumental bridge to the fourth track All This Sadness Will Be Gone. The shorter, voiceless (save the low harmony) piece feels like a moment of calm, a sighing exhalation of breath as Makó gathers himself for the next biting outpouring. Here, the steel guitar gives way to almost Crowbar-like sludgy doom that hits on all levels

The stripped-back title track showcases The Devil’s Trade at their emotional best. Over the hum of organ and strings, David’s voice is laid bare, isolated and vulnerable, while the lyrics drip with pain. The crushing pressure of the track is felt long before the towering climax, making this the most effective example of the band’s past and present colliding in a tumultuous moment of agony and ecstasy.

As the album draws to a close with the haunting Idegen Minden, a prime example that distorted instruments are not needed to create something heavy. Similar to Von Till’s solo work, this ambient, drifting swirl feels like it hurts just to get the words out.

Nincs Szennyezetlen Szép runs the gauntlet of negative emotions, suffering, sadness, anger and endurance. David Makó, who has previously declared ‘Happy Music Is Shit’, is just about one of the best artists bearing his soul right now and this latest album proves it.

Label: Pelagic Records
Band Links: Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden