The Bateleurs Confront the Devil on ‘The Price For My Soul,’ a Blues-Soaked Anthem From A Light In The Darkness

Editorial Board
2 days ago
2 min read

The Bateleurs channel raw blues grit and spine-chilling slide guitar on the single “The Price For My Soul,” setting a fierce tone for their forthcoming album A Light In The Darkness.

Sandrine Orsini and her bandmates at The Bateleurs are making a bold pivot with their latest single, The Price For My Soul, a stripped-down blues confession that doubles as a showdown at the crossroads.

Produced by Discos Macarras Records and mixed by bassist Ricardo Dikk, the song arrives ahead of their October 1st album, A Light In The Darkness, signaling a darker, more raw sonic direction.

The track opens with a "ghostly" slide guitar—Orsini’s voice enters like a distant siren, ripe with tension: “Down the old road where the ways are crossed / I get down on my knees and make my plea.”

The band wastes no time with polish—Dikk’s bass anchors while Rui Reis’s drum shuffle and Ricardo Galrão’s understated but expressive slide weaving a taut, moody landscape. The production feels immediate, almost live, underscoring a deliberate move away from layered studio aesthetics.

At its core, The Price For My Soul is a lyrical reckoning: “I’ve been a fighter, wandering higher than the peaks of misery,” Orsini sings. That line lands with gravity, fleshing out a character steeped in regret and desperation. When the chorus asks, “Will I float or drown?” the question hangs like a dare—suggesting that redemption and self-destruction are two sides of the same coin.

Technically, the song is unflashy by design. Galrão’s slide refrains from sprawling solos, choosing instead to punch through the mix with authenticity. The mastering by Nelson Canoa retains the grit—edges intact, no artifice. As a result, the single feels lived-in, not constructed.

It’s easy to place The Price For My Soul alongside works from analog-blues revivalists like The Black Keys or Rival Sons—but The Bateleurs use those touchpoints to serve a story, not a template. The effect is immediate: it sounds antique, but not antique-seeking.

More importantly, it positions A Light In The Darkness as a statement—not just another rock album, but a narrative journey through sin, self, and possibility.

In an era when rock-heavy blues can feel overproduced or nostalgic, The Bateleurs choose starkness. Their message is clear: bargains with the devil only work if you mean them. If this is the cost of entry, consider the coin spent.