Senna’s debut album Stranger To Love is a slow-burning triumph—a record that doesn’t aim to overwhelm with volume or chaos but instead leaves its mark through atmosphere, emotional candour, and thoughtful songwriting. The German post-hardcore group step beyond the genre’s traditional confines, combining predictable breakdowns and screaming choruses with nuanced arrangements that breathe, bleed, and reflect. Coming in as a debut album for the band, Senna really show they are a force to be reckoned with and stand out as ones to watch, showcasing the brilliant talents they have to offer.
The album opens not with a whisper, but a storm. Hurricane wastes no time building atmosphere—opening with sharp, moody guitars and a tense, ascending progression. Simon Masdjedi’s vocal delivery is almost desperate, but held in check, mirroring the emotional restraint of someone trying not to fall apart. A perfect introduction to the themes of miscommunication and emotional volatility that ripple through the rest of the record. The first 45 seconds alone establish the blueprint for what’s to come: moody guitars drenched in reverb, a simmering rhythm section, creating a vibe that walks the tightrope between control and collapse. This as an opener sets the tone sonically: melodic but heavy, intimate yet atmospheric, restrained but emotionally volatile. That balance becomes Senna’s signature within the album, well established chaos in the tracks to follow.
A surge of unfiltered emotion, Blackout is Stranger To Love’s most volatile and confrontational moment. From the opening riff, there’s no ambiguity: we’ve entered crisis mode. Gritty guitars grind beneath punchy drums, and the bass cuts through the mix with a physical presence, and vocally, this is one of the rawest performances on the album. The delivery straddles spoken-word and full-on emotional rupture, every word feels dragged out. Blackout tells the story of dissociation, shame, and the blurry space between memory and avoidance but also one of facing your problems head on. Due to this, Blackout lands like a panic attack in real time. It doesn’t offer healing — it doesn’t even pretend to. Instead, it’s an emotional purge, clearing space for the more reflective second act of the album, establishing Senna’s talent for brutal honesty and complete openness on their tracks.
With Drunk Dial Anthem, Senna delivers one of the most musically nuanced moments on Stranger To Love, dialling back the aggression in favor of tension, space, and slow-burn dynamics. The track’s opening sets a fragile tone that threads throughout. The instrumentation stays minimal in the verses—tight, restrained, and deliberately sparse. The drums are subdued and the bass fills just enough space to ground the track without pulling it down. The chorus arrives not with force, but with weight and even at its loudest, the track never loses its sense of restraint. Drunk Dial Anthem feels intentionally intimate. The song feels like a confessional, not a stadium track, and that’s a smart choice in its vulnerability and self-awareness with the repetition of “I don’t know when to shut up”. Senna are standouts for hard-hitting relatability, gut-punching familiarity, it is evident in this track in particular, causing realisation that you are not alone in your emotions no matter the situation. If Stranger To Love plays with contrasts—heavy and light, polished and raw—this track lands squarely in the ‘controlled collapse’ zone. It’s a restrained but emotionally loaded performance from a band that knows how to say more with less.
Senna arrives with a record that’s emotionally unguarded, musically mature, and sonically expansive without ever losing its core intimacy, honestly an incredible debut. Across its 11 tracks, the band navigates the fault lines of heartbreak, identity, and self-sabotage with an honesty that never feels performative. From the stormy opener Hurricane to the jagged crash of Blackout, Senna proves they understand the quiet weight of emotional fallout just as well as they handle explosive dynamics. There are no filler moments here—only shifting shades of grief and resolve. What Stranger To Love ultimately offers is catharsis without closure, beauty in the breakdown, and a sound that’s as bruised as it is brave.
For fans of: Holding Absence, Eidola, Acres
‘Stranger To Love’ by Senna is released on 23rd May on Sharptone Records.
Words by Ell Bradbury
