Blackbriar is the sort of band teenage goths in 2004 prayed would eventually exist. They’re like Evanescence if Amy Lee grew up identifying with Grimm’s Fairytales and Crimson Peak, then decided that reality was too beige to be worth acknowledging anymore. Throw in a generous dose of European work ethic, YouTube virality, and an oddly wholesome devotion to their fans, and you start to get a picture of what this Dutch gothic-symphonic six-piece is doing with A Thousand Little Deaths, their new third album.
Based on their reputation, Blackbriar is a DIY cult with way better lighting. They were formed in 2012 by their gorgeous frontwoman Zora Cock (Yes, that’s her real name, and no, you’re not punk enough to mock it) alongside René Boxem, Bart Winters, and Frank Akkerman. They bloomed out of the Dutch underground like haunted tulips, when one of their earliest singles, “Until Eternity,” gained tsunami status; it’s the kind of song you’d hear at a vampire wedding officiated by Neil Gaiman. It’s lush, romantic, and unabashedly dramatic with over 20 million YouTube views to prove that melodrama isn’t dead, it just moved to the Netherlands and learned how to crowdfund.
Their whole aesthetic is built around a very specific vibe: doomed heroines, enchanted forests, and a mild threat of being seduced by a ghost. In 2017, they dropped their debut EP Fractured Fairytales, a title that may as well be a mission statement. That EP brought tours through central Europe, where they shared stages with Halestorm, Delain, and Epica, basically, every band that makes you wonder whether corsets and breakdowns can coexist. Then came We’d Rather Burn, a Joost van den Broek-produced EP that finally nailed their sonic identity: sirens, banshees, and slow-motion death scenes masquerading as love songs.
But the turning point was The Cause of Shipwreck in 2021, a full-length album that confirmed what we already suspected. Blackbriar was not going to disappear like every other symphonic metal band with a budget and a crush on mythology. Recorded at Sandlane Recording Facilities—aka, the Disneyland of Dutch symphonic metal, the album was a graveyard of maritime metaphors and tragic heroines, with live shows that sold out across Europe faster than you can say “gothic operetta.”
Then, in 2023, they joined the Nuclear Blast family. This is the metal equivalent of signing to HBO: suddenly, you’re legit, but also under a microscope. Their second full-length, A Dark Euphony, was basically a concept album. Zora described it as a mix of “terrifying visitors, bone-chilling legends, and songs with a misleading voice”, which could double as a Tinder bio for anyone with a Dario Argento Blu-ray collection.
So now, in 2025, we’re here. On the brink of A Thousand Little Deaths. The title alone is enough to make Edgar Allan Poe rise from his grave and ask, “Where do I preorder?” This isn’t just another album, it’s an epoch. Recorded once more with van den Broek (the Rick Rubin of symphonic sadness), and written partially while re-haunting the mansion from their “Until Eternity” video, the record is meant to be a full-circle moment. You can practically feel the gravestones being polished.
This fall, they’re headlining their first full European tour with Danish dark pop-metal act Forever Still. And it’s not just a victory lap, it’s a coronation. Blackbriar has done what few bands ever pull off: they made a niche genre not only marketable, but meaningful. They’ve built an empire out of moonlight and melodrama, and somehow turned YouTube into Valhalla.
The top three tracks on the album that knocked me to the floor: Track 8. Green Light Across The Bay (overwhelmingly enchanting, dark, sophisticated; this woman’s voice is its own symphony). 4. My Lonely Crusade (Hypnotic, something Tim Burton might take a bubble bath to). 5. Floriography. As a closet The Birthday Massacre fan this song hit all of the elements that make me wish the sky was permanently purple and we could just live in the twilight forever.
The new Blackbriar album, A Thousand Little Deaths, was released on August 22, via Nuclear Blast. Order here.
