Panopticon – Songs of Hiraeth [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]

I spent so long this summer submerged in Panopticon’s discography, once I came back up, I was overwhelmed by the amount of things I’d missed or needed to get a headstart on. Consequently, I didn’t spend a huge amount of time with Songs of Hiraeth when it first dropped; I listened, loved it, made a note to TYMHM it, and moved on. It was only as Autumn started to turn into Winter and the seasonal chill reminded me of not just my end-of-year writing obligations, but the snowy wildernesses of Northern America (and Northern Europe, where much of Songs of Hiraeth was conceived). I’m not necessarily suggesting that the shorter days and the colder temperatures made the music sound better—I spent a significant chunk of my ranking-preparation listening in the south of France, and it sounded excellent as always then. But in some way, mine, the environment’s, and the album’s auras aligned, and everything was set for Songs of Hiraeth to reach full power.

Comprised of songs composed between 2009 and 2011,¹ the album is a window into a hidden alternate microcosm within Panopticon’s discography. But it’s one that lays bare seeds of growth that were carried on into the actual, later sound and spirit. Slow, dreamy, gazelike soundscapes (“The Road to Bergen,” “The White Mountain View,”), and syrupy, forlorn guitars shrouded in atmosphere (“A Letter,” “The Eulogy”), express the later music’s gentler, more often reflective aspect that plays as significant a role as the raw black metal.² You can also see the gradual maturity in experimentation, with transitions between that folk-tinged softness and wintry fury more natural than on the debut, and Collapse, albeit still less ethereally perfect than they would become (“From Bergen to Jotunheimen,” “The White Mountain View”).

Possibly the most brilliant thing about Songs of Hiraeth, however, is that it gets better as it goes on.³ This is not to say that the earlier parts aren’t good—they are; the solemn, then triumphant atmo-black of “The White Mountain View” could compete with any later fan-favourite and is really lovely. But from the first tumbling rollovers of “The End is Drawing Near” onwards, something shifts. The blackened ardour goes from a hum to a storm, and the mournful melodies pitch into urgency (“The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter”), before they cascade down with exquisite sadness (“A Letter,” “The Eulogy”). That bewitching liquidity to the reverb-soaked tremolos—which was present from Panopticon, and which only grew in sublimity over time—dominates these three final songs. In them–particularly closing duo “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy”—you can hear and feel the heart of their creator beating in the expressive, pleasantly audible drumwork, the transcendent soaring of the guitars, and the literal grief and pain in the lyrics he screams into the haze.

2025 has been the year of Panopticon for me, with a discography deep-dive, two albums, and a surprise EP that knocked me off my feet.⁴ This has only sharpened my perception of the music’s strange magic: although my mind knows, my body forgets between listening sessions, just how good it is. Songs of Hiraeth is not just a coincidental window into the past; it’s another immersive offering of vulnerability revealed at a very specific time—just as crucial as the harrowing Laurentian Blue—and it is, as everything Panopticon creates, fantastic.

Songs to Check Out: ”The White Mountain View,” “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” “The Eulogy”