The Goth Revival

Trstwych y Fenywod and the new New Romanticism

The zeitgeist is changing. A strange, romantic backlash to the tech era looms. Empiricism, algorithms and smartphones are out – astrology, art and a life lived fiercely offline are in.

This is the lede of a brilliant article that the writer Ross Barkan published in The Guardian, just around this time last year.

In that article, he quoted

Ted Gioia

who had written about that cultural shift that he perceived – a “rebellion” against the “technocracy” that “might resemble the Romanticist movement of the early 1800s” – a month prior.

In his piece, Gioia made a strong case for an imminent comeback of Romantic ideals in music, arts and culture.

In another more recent post, he briefly returns to the topic, sharing a new YouTube video that makes similar predictions (“Are We Entering a New Romantic Era?”) while linking to Barkan’s and Gioia’s articles from late 2023.

Both Gioia and Barkan suspect that the rise of a new Romanticism could be a young generation’s answer to an increasingly digital world.

I think they have a fair point – and we’re already seeing that movement grow as a counterculture.

Just look around – everyone stares at their screens all day. Algorithms and AI shape our daily lives. The world is becoming more transparent every day, but truth and facts don’t seem to matter much anymore. Liberal democracy seems to be falling apart, while authoritarianism is on the rise.

What’s left to believe in?

Unsurprisingly, some young people feel drawn to spirituality, mysticism and irrationality. Their musical soundtracks for these explorations are dreamy, romantic genres like shoegaze, trip-hop and dreampop. (If you don’t believe me, just skim through

Shawn Reynaldo

’s amazing best of 2024 list – the “not for the club” part.)

It’s an expression of a deeper longing – a yearning for the magic, wonder and awe that once filled human life.

That revival of Romanticism may be interpreted as a rebellion against smartphone culture and surveillance capitalism, as teen depression and suicide rates are going through the roof.

Indeed parallels can be drawn to the early 1800s, just like Barkan and Gioia imply.

The original Romanticism was a reaction to the first industrial revolution, when machines displaced workers and factories were ruthlessly organized for efficiency and productivity.

Its current new form is a reaction to the fourth wave of the industrial revolution – the digitalization of society.

It’s not the first time those ideas came back in style though.

The fashion and art movement of New Romanticism first rose in England, in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Largely apolitical, followers of that style listened to melodic synth pop, wore make-up and dressed like dandies.

New Romanticism was often interpreted as an escapist reaction to the impending doom of the Reagan/Thatcher era, when unemployment rates skyrocketed and the constant threat of nuclear war lingered.

The New Romantics of that time were closely associated with goth, a wider subculture born in the same era. In his 2023 book Goth: A History, Lol Tolhurst – the long-time drummer/keyboarder of quintessential goth band The Cure – attempts to assemble an aesthetic manifesto of that movement, drawing lines from Baudelaire to Bowie, from Bela Lugosi to Bauhaus.

I feel sympathy for goth culture’s aesthetic ideals. Like the drone composer Sarah Davachi, I consider myself a “refined goth”.

As a young person, I listened to a lot of music that was considered goth: Darkwave, dark folk, synth pop, EBM and industrial. Many of my friends dyed their hair. Our dress code could be summarized in one word: Black.

We were into fine arts and poetry, specifically studying the Romantic era which we found to be very in line with our gothic leanings.

Eventually I lost interest in being part of that subculture. I just grew out of it, and I was also massively put off by the fact that parts of the “black scene” – that’s how goths were often referred to in Germany – played with fascist symbols, with some even openly supporting fascist ideas, particularly parts of the so-called “neofolk” branch.

There’s a theory saying that 19th century Romanticism – due to its inherent irrationality and anti-progress stance – was an ideologic precursor of 20th century fascism. And while there’s some truth to that, I’d reject the notion that Romantic ideals inevitably lead to disgusting thoughts of white supremacy or folkish nationalism.

In fact, I am glad to see a new generation currently rediscovering the underlying ideas of goth culture and New Romanticism specifically because that world can provide a safe space for queer, non-binary and neurodivergent youths.

Enter Trstwch y Fenywod, a Welsh dark folk band that I discovered through the

First Floor

best of 2024 list as well and whose eponymous debut album encapsulates the spirit of the goth revival to me.

In an interview with Bandcamp Daily, the band’s lead vocalist and zither player Gwretsien Ferch Lisbeth explains that their exploration of folk music is always done “through a queer, anti-fascist, decolonial, surrealist lens”.

“We like the idea that ‘Re-enchantment is Resistance,’” says Ferch Lisbeth, “that by reclaiming, re-interpreting, and re-imagining these stories and concepts from history that we are creating something new from them which dismantles their power as narratives to be put forward by racists who see the ancient Britons as an example of a ‘purer/more authentic white culture.’ We actively seek to destroy these ideas – with a special fuck you to neofolk nazi scum!”

Tristwch y Fenywod

Tristwch y Fenywod are a perfect example of how the new New Romanticism already produces some highly original, unique music.

Released in late August on Glasgow-based label Night School (that also re-released dark folk legend Rose McDowall’s Sorrow records from the 1990s), these three queer women mix Welsh-language lyrics and folky elements with darkwave and post-punk influences, inspired by early 4AD bands like Dead Can Dance, This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins.

“We are goth to the core”, Ferch Lisbeth confirms. She grew up in North Wales, but has been living in Leeds for a while now, where she met her bandmates Sidni Sarffwraig and Leila Lygad. Their unpronounceable band name translates to The Sadness of Women.

All three have been active in the city’s experimental scene for years, but this is their first release as a trio. It’s also the most accessible music that Ferch Lisbeth has ever made, she claims, and it’s been quite an underground success story as well.

Their first live demo, released in 2022, turned heads in the scene; when their debut album was announced, the vinyl edition sold out pre-release.

Their music is, hands down, mesmerizing. Siren-like vocals in an otherworldly old language over mystical zither sounds and a foundation of post-punk bass and tribal electronic drums – what’s not to be loved?

If this is the sound of the goth revival, then count me right in.