SINGLE REVIEW: World Without Humans – The Last Venetian

World Without Humans open 'The Last Venetian' with an engulfing organ swell — fleeting but almost daunting in its presence, like the weight of the story about to unfold. It quickly gives way to sweeping instrumentation, setting a cinematic stage for the track’s slow, rolling momentum. The groove is weighted but not heavy, carried forward by a steady rhythm section and layered guitars that give the song both grit and atmosphere.

At the centre are the vocals: gravelly, powerful, and commanding in a way that feels raw yet familiar. There’s a Springsteen quality to the delivery, with shades of Brian Fallon too — that blend of Americana grit and heartfelt honesty. It’s a voice that doesn’t just sing the words, but carries the weight of them, grounding the track in lived-in emotion.

Lyrically, the song inhabits a crumbling Venice, a city abandoned to water and silence. It’s a striking image, cinematic in scope but intimate in the way it mirrors universal feelings of loss, beauty in decay, and resilience in the face of endings. That contrast between the melancholic imagery and the pulsing instrumentation keeps the track from sinking into gloom; instead, it rolls forward with energy, finding light within the ruins.

Musically, World Without Humans are the perfect blend of polish and rawness. At almost seven minutes long, it gives both the instruments and the story room to breathe, expand, and swell. It’s weighted yet grand, with bold atmospherics. The heaviness of the sweeping guitars and resonant drums carves out a melancholic path for the vocals to sit atop.

This is a song built to linger: heavy with imagery, weighted in delivery, yet rolling with momentum that pulls you along. It’s the kind of track that feels at once timeless and alive, a reminder that even in endings, there’s a strange beauty worth holding onto.