Review: Lera – Rêverie

“Rêverie” is a debut that leans into shadows and whispers. It’s an atmospheric journey rather than a revelation. Lera emerge from Sardinia with music that balances the crushing weight of doom and post-metal with the fragile breath of post-rock and ambient drift. There is beauty here; there is potential. There is also a sense that sometimes less would have spoken louder.

The opening track, “Dead Flowers”, sets the tone: slow arpeggios, muted tension, vocals that hover in breathy disquiet before giving way to heavier riffing. It is a monolithic entry, immersive and dense, but also asks for patience. That patience is rewarded in songs like “Doppelgänger” and “Sonder”, where melody and distortion entwine, where moments of clarity sneak through weight and texture. When Lera allow space with the tones and ambient fade-outs, the emotional undercurrent becomes visible. These are the parts that suggest the band has more to give.

Yet much of “Rêverie” remains in limbo between statement and sketch. Roughly half the tracks are instrumental; this gives room for atmosphere but sometimes leaves the album lacking in vocal identity. The voice is a strong instrument, yet it is underused and at times lost in the mix, or absent altogether. Some heavier moments feel distant, they are present, but the impact is softened by surrounding haze. The transitions between quiet and intense are well intentioned, but occasionally the momentum stalls. Instrumental interludes linger without enough tension to feel necessary.

Production is both a gift and a limit. The mix favours space and reverb; guitars swell and recede, ambience hovers, and there is room for breathing between the walls of sound. This creates mood. Yet in heavier passages the lack of sharp contrast diminishes urgency. The drums hold things together, but sometimes the low end feels submerged, the vocals feel ethereal to the point of ghostliness rather than forceful.

The track list shows promise: especially “Of Lights And Shades” stands out. They offer a balance of accessibility and weight, a glimpse of what more confident moments might sound like. But the closing piece, “579”, feels more like a lingering exhale than a conclusion; it confirms the mood without pushing toward resolution. The album hovers, rarely strikes.

Lera’s ambition is admirable: they aim for atmosphere, for emotional weight, for sonic landscapes that carry memory and melancholy. They succeed often, especially in creating immersion. But as a whole, “Rêverie” feels like a first draft of something greater. The raw materials are there: melodic promise, textural nuance, flashes of heaviness. Still missing are the bold turns, the sharpened edges, the moments that leave you breathless.