Editors - Violence (LP)

Editors spent the 2010s nudging their sound between shadowy guitar rock and sleek synth drama, and Violence lands right in that sweet spot. Released on 9 March 2018 via PIAS, it is their sixth studio album and it feels like a band that knows exactly where the danger and the thrill sit in their songs. Producer Leo Abrahams helps stitch the pieces together with a patient hand, while Benjamin John Power of Blanck Mass adds a serrated, industrial edge that crackles through the mix. You can hear that push and pull from the first moments of Cold, the opener that sets an icy mood before the drums rise and Tom Smith’s baritone cuts through with the kind of yearning weight only he can carry.

The singles told a clear story even before the full record dropped. Magazine struts on a wiry bassline and bright synth sparkle, all aimed at the kind of power and greed Smith has called out in interviews. It is catchy but not glib, sharp without turning bitter. Then Hallelujah (So Low) arrives like a siren. Smith has said it was sparked by visiting the refugee camp in Calais, and the track sounds like it. The guitars snarl, the synths charge forward, and the chorus feels torn between compassion and rage. Darkness at the Door balances the set with a quick pulse and one of those widescreen Editors hooks that goes over beautifully live. In 2018 you could feel it lift rooms in Europe, proof that this band still writes choruses that stick.

Violence, the title track, is where the album’s thesis really snaps into focus. Abrahams smooths and sculpts the edges, then Blanck Mass leans in and scuffs them back up. The result is a heady mix that nods to the band’s early post-punk roots while welcoming the heft of modern electronic production. Ed Lay’s drumming is a steady anchor through all of it, often giving the songs their most immediate punch, and Russell Leetch’s bass lines have that driving insistence that made the debut such a rush. Justin Lockey and Elliott Williams color everything with guitar textures and synth details that linger after the first listen.

The reception at the time was mixed to positive, which makes sense for a record that embraces friction. NME praised the renewed bite in these songs, while The Guardian noted the tension between industrial heft and radio-ready hooks. That tension is the point. Editors had already taken a deep dive into synth landscapes on In This Light and On This Evening and doubled down on nocturnal electronics on In Dream. Violence does not retreat from that era. It brings the guitars roaring back into the frame and lets the electronics snarl beside them.

If you are a vinyl person, this one earns its space on the shelf. The low-end throb and those layered synths translate with a satisfying weight, and Smith’s voice sits warm and centered. I first heard it properly in a small Melbourne record store where the staff spun a side late on a Thursday and customers just kind of stopped talking. Since then I have kept an eye out for Editors albums on vinyl, and Violence vinyl has become the one I recommend when someone asks where to start after the early records. If you like to buy Editors records online, it is not hard to track down a clean copy, though catching it while browsing for vinyl records Australia wide remains the most fun way to stumble into it. There is a tactile rush to hearing Magazine and then flipping straight into Hallelujah (So Low) that streaming never quite replicates. Editors vinyl has that habit of rewarding the full album ride.

The band later released The Blanck Mass Sessions in 2019, a companion piece that reveals how far they leaned into the harsher electronics during the process. Hearing those alternate versions makes the production choices on Violence feel even more deliberate. Abrahams and the band sand down a few spikes to let the melodies breathe, but they keep enough grit to stop things from turning polite. That balance is what gives the record its staying power. It carries real weight, and it keeps moving.

Violence may not convert every skeptic, but it plays to Editors’ strengths with confidence. Big choruses, moody verse work, a rhythm section that can carry both dance floor momentum and arena drama. Put it on, let the room darken a little, and it clicks. Then you find yourself reaching back for the sleeve again, the way you do with records that feel lived in.