Rome – Gates of Europe
Release Date: 25th August 2022
Label: Trisol Music Group
Order/Stream
Genre: Neofolk, Industrial, Dark Wave.
FFO: Death in June, Sol Invictus.
Review By: Kira L. Schlechter
It’s safe to say that “Gates of Europe,” by the enigmatic musician Rome, might be the first pure protest album of the 2020s.
Rome is Jerome Reuter of Luxembourg, who sings and plays guitars, synths, and other instruments; on this album, he is joined by Tom Gatti, who plays bass, synths, and modulators and does programming.
“Gates” is about the Russian invasion of Ukraine, ripped straight from both the headlines and Reuter’s own lengthy experiences of touring the war-ravaged country since 2015. Even though he was warned against it, he played in Odesa and Kviv just a few days before the full-scale invasion a little over a year ago.
The album was something that, as he says in the liner notes, “started as a helpless reaction to the events in late February (and) became my way of coping with the situation.”
There have been many musings about Reuter’s political views in the press and among listeners. Some have accused him of fascism, or of at least having far-right tendencies. He’s definitely Eurocentric and most decidedly anti-war.
I may be naive, but I see this album as a pure guttural cry of anguish about what is happening not only in a country he has come to love, but also to Europe as a whole. “We forgot who we were,” he says in the liner notes, “Ukraine brought it all back.”
I mean, it’s fairly clear how he feels when he writes “Fuck Putin” in the liner notes. The album seethes with angry passion despite its outward restraint – these are fairly short songs that make their point via mantra-like repetition (which here is decidedly not a bad thing) and Reuter’s relentless eye for scathing detail.
The title track intro is a mass of overlapping snippets of reporters speaking about the invasion, with a mournful drift of sparse music underneath. It ends with a British voice saying “it is a terrible day for Ukraine and a dark day for Europe,” a line that both sets the stage for the songs to come and encapsulates Reuter’s entire mindset here.
The opener “The Death of a Lifetime” is from a citizen’s perspective. “The death of a lifetime” is of course the war, and he vows, “we’ll take it back.” He makes two seemingly contradictory statements: “And I want you here” (that is either I want witnesses to this atrocity, or it could be referring to President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s initial call for every able-bodied man to stay and fight), and “So what’s keeping you here?” (that might be perhaps the citizen asking Reuter himself). Reuter’s voice is deep and resonant, reminiscent of Richard Thompson, a wellspring of emotion and pain, lacking histrionics. The verses are fairly empty musically, but a totally compelling synth melody separates them – it’s haunting and dark and unforgettable.
“Yellow and Blue,” its title self-explanatory, is set to an acoustic melody with a shambling, easy groove. It’s pointed – Russia gets nailed (“They will declare themselves masters/Of what ruins they leave behind/And what they cannot steal, they burn”), and so does empty charity (“We don’t want your pity/No signed petition”). It speaks of Putin’s wanton destruction of resources: “Can you see the wheat is burning?/It lights up the night/As the tsar betrays all under the sun/To save his own hide.” And it makes a devastating paraphrase of Zelenskyy’s own defiant quote: “We don’t want a ride/We just need ammunition.” It’s so simple melodically and lyrically, but it’s so completely effective; the chorus is a total sing-along – picture audiences joining him in the lines, “We don’t run on dollars/The green won’t do/For strength has two colors/Yellow and blue.” I mean, I did.
The acoustic ballad “How Came Beauty Against This Blackness” is a sad, quiet railing with a slippery, erratic rhythm. It begins with the wonderful couplet “As I’ve seen the bitter end of better men/As I hear the little men bicker and wonder why/Should they weep for them” (those who have asked why we should care about Ukraine, that is) and it’s followed with the warning, “the world is hurting and bound/To get much worse and unsound/Before it mends.” The chorus, repeated many times, ebbs and flows, with soft low overdubbing beneath Reuter’s main vocal. It stresses unity, asking how will we achieve healing from this (the “beauty against this blackness”) and how will history judge you (“How came you against this sore?”), reminding finally, “Europe is mother to us all.”
A book of similar name describes U.S./Ukraine relations from 1992 through 2004, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, but it’s not immediately apparent if “Eagles of the Trident” references it. Set to an insistent quick march, with Reuter chanting in a near-monotone, it seems to be about the Ukrainian peoples’ resistance and defiance. They will fight “until tigress ruts with stag,” they will face the foe “with golden leaves of myrtle” (the myrtle plant symbolizes hope and rebirth), despite the price that must be paid – the darkly poetic imagery of the line, “As death kicks with impartial foot/At the hovels of the poor.” The spoken German phrase “Einzig und allein durch brutalsten Kampf” (“solely through the most brutal fight,” roughly) is repeated over and over in the chorus, driving home that determination to prevail.
“Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy,” though, is a mournful, haunting acoustic with a pronounced folkish lilt. It is a vow, that Uropia, as he calls it, will “see peace,” their “brows bound with victory’s wreaths,” and it’s also a statement, that “we’ll never kiss the hands of the Moscali (a derogatory term for Russians).” It is “a dreadful march,” he says, but “the joyful dance” will come. The chorus is a stinging indictment, apparently of Putin and maybe other authoritarians: “Those whom the gods wish to destroy/They first make mad.” It fades out on a wordless take on the chorus, the music swelling and building, until eerie synth chords end it.
Also acoustic but with a slightly livelier rhythm, “Our Lady of the Legion” poses the repeated question, “Where does Europa end?” It seems to be about the wars that have plagued the continent throughout history, but it also references the album’s main subject matter, asking, “Where does Europa end/When they keep peddling the lie of liberation … When all they ever meant was obliteration.” The pre-chorus is damning, “All they offer is death – To life! … It’s all they’ve ever done,” then resisting, “And until our last breath – To life! … We’ll hold the fort.” The chorus addresses Europe directly, personifying it: “I know you’ll cry no more/You’ve seen it all before/One thing you know for sure/We’ll be here forevermore.”
There’s so much biting subtext in the brilliant and chilling “Marauder,” a tribute to the Ukrainian troops who have succeeded against monumental odds. It’s self-critical – “we” (that is, the fighters) have allowed the Russians to assimilate over time (which Reuter calls “our error”), “we let them slip through the cracks.” But no more – they will “hide in the wind/Hide in the reeds and in the rain/Hide to fight/Until they crawl home again.” The end is prophetic and, yes, bloodthirsty: “By loyalist hand you’ll fall/A little later, traitor/Under autumn leaves they’ll find you/Only later, traitor.” The dénouement is Reuter urging that vengeance: “And be essential (that is, do it on purpose)/Not accidental.”
Set to another potent melody and a twisting groove, “The Black Axis” continues Rome’s blending of the organic (acoustic guitar, drums) and the electronic (the sampling, the synths). It might be a reference to the Russian threat (or even more broadly, that of other non-democratic nations) to Europe, again personifying it, asking rhetorically in the chorus, “Are you even safe over there?” and warning of “One axis/To rule them all” (a little “Lord of the Rings” borrowing there). The first verse could almost be Europe girding itself once again for conflict, as Reuter most poetically describes: “Now Venus rouges for the dance/Exchanging eyes with the mad king (Putin)/And summons the vanished faces with a glance.” He acknowledges the heavy expectations placed on Ukraine – “With all of Europe on your shoulders” – in the bridge.
“The Ballad of Mariupol” is self-explanatory, a deeply moving eulogy to the city that fell to Russian occupation after two months of fighting. There are no pauses in the lyrics, just Reuter quietly delivering line after line about “that proud heart/As it was torn apart,” a place “where there is no life left for the flames.” It’s heartbreaking.
“Going Back to Kviv” on the other hand, is carefully optimistic for the future (“We’ll take it one step at a time/And do the best we can”) without forgetting the past (“And though some of our bravest are with us no more/We’ll rebuild again/And sing some of our brightest/Not with us no more/We’ll remember them”). Again, Reuter’s deliberately crafted lyrics are at once critical – “They poured in most clumsily/A murdering band of thieves/They all shall fall in time for this” (pretty self-explanatory) – and anthropomorphizing – “You’ll be my queen again (Ukraine)/And I will be your man.”
So is “The Brightest Sun,” yet another vow of resistance against the “madman’s murdering fools” – “Let them meet the wrath of this, our iron youth/And their blood will be/Our bright new dawn’s dew,” Reuter pledges. His acoustic pairs with burbles of bass and keyboards and judicious sampling to add texture. Its chorus, “Slava Ukraini/We ride your golden fields/You bright sun, brightest sun,” is again repeated multiple times, as if the mere act of saying it will make it so.
The city in question in the closing piece, “Olenivka Rain,” was the site of the massacre of 53 Ukrainian POWs in a Russian-operated prison in July 2022; the prisoners had been taken during the siege of Mariupol. It’s still not known what caused the destruction of the building. Reuter is again bitter in his condemnation – “Your dishonor knows no bounds/While you’re trying to trade blame/We know your game.” And the final lyrics, again repeated with more stridency each time, say everything: “Never forget, never forgive.” A final snippet, “Archives of Silence,” is a woman’s voice singing, a soft choir with her as if in a church, then it fades to nothing.
This is a complex album couched in the simplest of formats – sparse instrumentation, straightforward lyrics nonetheless loaded with symbolism and subtext. Whatever anyone has said prior, Reuter’s anguish is genuine on this sobering, grieving, and ultimately brilliant album. 
(5 / 5)
