It hasn’t been long since Imperatus made their debut with “At the Mercy of the Wind“, but somehow we’re already here with “The Dusk of Hopeless Dreams, arriving just a year later. For a band that only officially formed in late 2023, that kind of turnaround is rare.
For those unfamiliar, Imperatus is a blackened death metal band from Hanoi, built by Tan Dat “Nattsvärd” Nguyen, before known for his work with Leukotomy, and a few more familiar faces in Hanoi’s metal community. That lineage shows in the band’s stylistic DNA—equal parts crusty black metal, groovy death riffage, and thrash-minded songwriting. This release feels sharp, not refined in a polished sense, but more deliberate.
Still Extreme, With More Control
At its core, “The Dusk of Hopeless Dreams” doesn’t stray far from the world of extreme metal, but what’s clear this time around is a better grasp on pacing and dynamics. Right from the opener, there’s a strong sense of mood-building: eerie and a low, unsettling tension that doesn’t rely on volume or speed to create unease.
One of the things that stood out most on this record was the surprise use of breakdowns—often buried deep in a flurry of tremolo-picked black metal riffs, suddenly dropping into something that sounds more hardcore or thrash in tone. These sections give some welcome contrast and groove to otherwise relentless blasts. They’re not overused either, which makes them feel earned when they show up.
There’s also a decent amount of Scandinavian influence across the album, not just in the blackened tones, but in the melodic phrasing and how riffs sometimes interlock rather than just bulldozing through. It’s a small thing, but it helps the tracks feel connected, rather than just isolated bursts of speed or aggression.
Raw, Real, and Relatable
On the technical side, the guitar work leans more towards the honest, played-through feel rather than being surgically tight. You can hear the players pushing themselves, especially during some of the neoclassical-inspired solos scattered throughout the album. And that’s a good thing. There’s charm in the looseness. You can imagine this stuff translating well live, which can’t be said for a lot of modern metal records that get smoothed out to the point of being robotic.
Some of the solo sections feel like they nod to late-‘90s melodic death metal—maybe Children of Bodom, maybe early Kalmah. There’s taste here, even if it doesn’t always land perfectly.
Production-wise, it’s worth pointing out that guitarist/vocalist Tan Dat “Nattsvärd” Nguyen handled the mix and engineering himself. For a DIY effort, the album sounds fairly solid. The guitars are gritty, the drums are sharp enough, and nothing feels too buried or out of place. It’s not studio-perfect, but that’s part of the appeal. You can tell the band wanted to keep some rough edges intact.
Bass is one of the few spots where the mix could use a bit more presence overall. For much of the record, it does its job, supporting the riffs and giving some bottom end, but there are moments—like the intro to “Death to the Nymph”—where it actually steps forward and creates a real sense of dread and space.
That track in particular benefits from its weirder, slower opening, before launching into something more familiar. It’d be nice to see the band explore more of that space in future work, especially if it gives the bass more breathing room. When you hear it clearly, it adds weight that the faster parts sometimes lack.
Vocally, Nattsvärd delivers a performance that’s clearer than most black metal vocals, which ends up being a strength. There’s no attempt to bury the vocals in reverb or distortion for the sake of atmosphere; instead, they sit cleanly in the mix and cut through without being overpowering.
His range stays mostly in that mid-to-high register, but there’s enough variation to keep it from getting monotonous. You can even follow along with a good part of the lyrics. The vocals feel like they’re participating in the songwriting rather than just layering on top of it.
Tight Transitions and Natural Momentum
One thing that “The Dusk of Hopeless Dreams” handles well is the pacing between sections. There’s rarely a moment where a transition feels awkward or shoehorned. Whether it’s shifting from blasts to grooves or back into full-speed blackened death, the transitions are smooth and confident.
The album moves quickly overall (clocking in at a bit over 40 minutes), which works to its benefit. It never overstays its welcome, and you get a sense that the band trimmed the fat instead of stuffing in filler just to hit some arbitrary runtime. Still, a little more variety in tempo or dynamics could’ve helped give some tracks more individual identity.
Looking at this album in the context of the band’s short timeline, it’s hard not to respect the hustle. Putting out two full-length records in under two years isn’t just impressive—it’s nearly unheard of in the local scene. There’s drive and intent behind what Imperatus is doing, and “The Dusk of Hopeless Dreams” is a good reflection of that momentum.
But it’s not without its rough edges. That said, the band is clearly carving out its own identity, and the improvements from the debut are already visible. If they continue on this trajectory while giving themselves room to breathe and experiment, the next release could be a really interesting step forward.
If you like your metal unpolished but purposeful, leaning into the traditions of Scandinavian black metal with a DIY edge and a splash of thrash muscle, Imperatus is worth checking out. They’re not trying to impress the algorithm. They’re just trying to rip. And sometimes, that’s all you really need.
Rating: 7.5/10
