1476
Wildwood / The Nightside

Can an album have a smell? Besides the plastic and cellophane, that new smell typical when you unwrap it... A more "mental" smell, if you will, linked to the images it immediately conveys as you listen to the tracks it contains.

Not all albums "smell" in this particular way, but this one does, this one has a distinct, recognizable scent, perfectly suited to the autumn season we've just entered.

"Black Cross/Death Rune" smells of smoke, that acrid smell that spreads through the woods and fields on foggy November mornings, when the first fireplaces are lit in homes and farmers burn the brushwood and dead branches, gathered in small piles here and there.

When "Watchers" starts, some of the predominant undertones of the fragrance that permeates this album come to life, those of rain falling on dirt roads, lifting dust and stones upon impact with the ground.

With "The Dagger" you perhaps reach the highest point of this essence. If you close your eyes, a painting opens up before you in an instant, made of warm colors, from red to ocher to orange, with landscapes characterized by fiery-topped trees, maples, and poplars whose leaves light up when touched by the light of a sun that is gradually less warm. The air all around is calm, in the distance only small towns with white-painted houses and covered bridges over placid rivers, and a scent of nature, of dry leaves, of moist grass, and earth.

With "Banners in Bohemia," for a few moments, the images and smells of the grapes that grandfather used to dry in the garage, preparing them for vinsanto, resurface in the mind, while when "Good Morning, Blackbird" kicks in, the harsher side of autumn, the antechamber of the coming winter. In this piece, it's the rain that prevails, but not that delicate one that barely seems to wet you, but those downpours interrupted by peals of thunder that don't scare you just because you're indoors, sheltered, near a mug of steaming coffee.

"Horse Dysphoria" continues the theme opened with the previously described track, possibly amplifying its fierceness, while "Stave Fire" is a feast for the eyes and smells, it's the fire crackling in the fireplace that warms you to your bones, with that scent that’s half pungent and half pleasant.

Once the fire is out, what remains is the dense smoke of "Bohemian Spires," rising into the sky, then dispersing into nothingness, seemingly merging with the fog that gradually climbs the hillsides and envelops the valleys, permeating everything with a pleasant smell of dampness and mold.

Then there’s a duo of tracks, "An Atrophy Trophy" and "Shoreless," that seem to transport you to the coast, on steep, dark cliffs overlooking a restless sea. In this atmosphere, the smells of salt and wet rock rule, and when the wind rises bringing with it heavy clouds and raindrops, you know autumn is giving way to winter. Suddenly, you look around and the red of the maples is gone, and what remains are only skeletons silhouetted against a dark sky, and the sun is gone. A chill of nostalgia runs down your spine, you button up your coat and decide perhaps it’s best to head home.

New England is a magical place, steeped in history, nature, and mysticism. Along its country lanes, between the dense trees, in the pale villages, and among the waters of tranquil ponds, things have happened that you’ve only read about in history books and fairy tales, stories of superstition that immediately come to mind while listening to "The Golden Alchemy." These images bring with them vague, intangible odors, again deeply connected to fire, ash, the elements. It's the smell of old dusty books, incense, and ropes left cold and damp. There is something magical in these essences, something that captures you, that enchants you... Yes, the witches, the pyres, the persecutions, the stories of vampires and magic, everything seems to come back to mind, mesmerizing you with sonorous bursts of majestic beauty.

"Wildwood" closes in this way, leaving room for the calm and sweet melancholy of "The Nightside," an album permeated by familiar, "homely" smells if you will, as comforting as sitting quietly watching the leaves dance outside the window driven by the wind... So arid and dry and fragile, they seem ready to give way to winter, yet you see them whirring full of life, and they make you feel good, like all those little things you seek when you need a bit of peace to get back in shape.

The 1476 are a mysterious duo from New England, two guys whose musical poetics seem supported by "Misanthropy, Animals, Obsidian Mirrors," at least according to what emerges from their Bandcamp. It's difficult to pinpoint a reference genre for the two from Salem: it ranges from apocalyptic folk to post-punk, from 80s gothic to post-rock, with a general taste for melancholy and melody that connects the various tracks. This "Wildwood/The Nightside EP" is a reissue curated by Prophecy Prod., which managed to sign the group and, while waiting for the new work, decided to re-release all their catalog. I find this work incredibly evocative, typically autumnal, and deeply rooted in the home places of 1476: their great strength lies precisely in being able to recreate images, scents, also evoking various memories and stories.

This is a work not suitable for everyone, but for those attracted to the above-mentioned genres and who have a penchant for the season we have just entered, it might be worth giving this album a listen, giving a chance to a group that, if it doesn't get too full of itself, will surely make a name for itself.