Aesma Daeva
Dawn Of The New Athens

“The moon has set;

the Pleiades are also gone;

it's midnight; time is passing;

and I am here, alone.”

(Sappho)

The Therion should start to pale in the face of the new bands and learn from them, instead of continuing to churn out arid and manneristic albums, considering themselves the King Midas of a certain type of metal with pretentious intellectualistic connotations. Let one example stand out: the band chosen to open the dates of their next fall tour far exceeds general expectations.

They are called Aesma Daeva (like the ancient demon of anger and revenge in Persian mythology), they come from Minnesota and were born as a symphonic metal project by mastermind John Prassas who, since the penultimate album "The new Athens ethos" (recorded in 2003 with Melissa Ferlaak, current frontwoman of Visions Of Atlantis), aims to reinterpret the splendor and cultural heritage of the Hellenic age, not by diving headlong into the revival of folklore themes (as some neofolk acts like Daemonia Nymphe or Ataraxia have done) but by fully developing the lesson of Christofer Johnsson and company with a modus operandi unusually immune to any stylistic and compositional aridness.

"Dawn of the new Athens," recorded by Neil Kernon (Nevermore, Queensryche) is their third release and, to be honest, is also the first equipped with the potential to spark a bit of interest among opera metal enthusiasts. If until the release of "The eros of frigid beauty" (2002) Aesma Daeva seemed hopelessly mired in spiral and extremely difficult to follow partitions, today the aim has been adjusted in favor of a more organic songwriting yet at the same time graced with an extraordinary grandeur that exalts the celestial magnificence of the classical component, whether it's because of the extraordinary Lori Lewis behind the microphone (she will sing for the same Therion for the entire tour), or because of the many classical musicians involved in the recording of the tracks. Although all the compositions have been adapted to a crystalline and exceptionally high voice like that of Lewis, the metal component never takes a backseat, indeed, for the most part, the symphonic passages become simple support or ornament. The guitars maneuver with ease and disarming spontaneity, never losing the guideline, among borderline thrash passages, slow and harrowing riffs in gothic-doom style, sudden accelerations and atmospheric slowdowns inspired by progressive rock.

The sacred atmosphere of the female choirs that prelude the entire work ("Tisza's child") immerses us in a culture millennia old that has managed to transcend the barriers of time and avoid oblivion, still satisfying poetry lovers with its numerous masterpieces, but also thanks to the work of these skilled and shrewd musicians who want to revive its splendor. And it will certainly not be a sin if the subsequent "The bluish shade" (embellished with a piano skeleton, a slowed-down bridge and a refrain with celestial tones set in the trills of the excellent singer) seems to vaguely fit into the schemes of Nightwish's "Once", because a bit of rocky riffs and pounding drums certainly do not jarr in such contexts, nor will the settling on a liquid bass loop of the mid-tempo "Artemis" manage to break the magic of the previous tracks. The solos and tempo changes of "Hymn to the sun" also reveal some glimpses of light within this sound sanctuary, entrusting the last moments of the track to a crepuscular piano loop, which will soon contrast with the magnificence of "D'Oreste" (who knows if the piece refers to the homonymous tragedy by Vittorio Alfieri), a true metal composition for soprano voice, worthy of the most famous lyrical masterpieces, which alone is worth the absolute trust in this band. Among the power structures of "Ancient verses" intermingle, alternating pleasantly, intricate string and wind incursions, accompanying Prassas's severe rhythms in an epic gallop, as always led by our Lori, while "Since the machine" is vying to become the best track on the album, thanks to its vigorous rhythm with surgical precision and typically thrash impact and the variety of vocal registers used (male vocals and choirs also appear).

Almost an hour has passed, and the dances close with "The loon", the most cadenced episode of the batch, caught by a sudden doom influence in the guitars, and magnified by the constant presence of both the metal and orchestral components of Aesma Daeva's sound, leaving us speechless at a track, but also an entire album, that seems like the lament of a distant soul, full of ancestral melancholy and eternal love pains, heart-wrenching yet wonderful to hear. Like the temple columns that mysteriously emerge from the green and calm backgrounds of the artwork, ours stands brilliantly above all those symphonic-metal wannabes that have recently invaded the market with the pretense of involving classical music for their own dirty purposes. Aesma Daeva does not even have the pretense of being great, they simply are...