The collection of songs on Trentemøller’s sixth studio album, Memoria (In My Room) out February 11, traverses some ground fans will find familiar, but also digs deeper into themes of transience, and various forms of continuance. His latest “No More Kissing In The Rain,” released today, gives the impression that it’s easier to find comfort in the darkness when it feels like particles of light are only moments away from assembling, perhaps divulging a bright secret. It announces itself with an overture to a synth opera shot on supersaturated film; warm waves of sweeping, lush pads soon land to make space for vocalist Lisbet Fritze’s tone-setting proclamation: “My dear, I am running out of time.” 

Concurrently, her heartfelt vocals are pushed and pulled by an almost playfully mephistophelean synth line. Each glistening guitar glissando bloom projects the feeling that a series of curtains are being drawn back, revealing the next act. The chorus arrives like an unexpected sun flare, overexposing halide crystals, and smearing the emulsion. “Is this the end of everything?” It feels like the end of a relationship, but is the relationship between two people, or the corporeal being and its earthbound existence? “You know I know we’re growing colder.” The final orchestral tag of this pocket symphony signals its closure. There’s no hint of trepidation, only a sense of comfort, albeit a vague one. Was the sun flare actually the light at the end of the tunnel?