Anathema
The Optimist

Among all the albums in their repertoire they could have drawn inspiration from for the creation of new material, Anathema chose the one most disparaged by fans and the band itself, and yet one of my all-time favorites: A Fine Day To Exit, which dates back a full sixteen years.

Allow me a digression. For me, it is not difficult to understand why it was so poorly understood: having long expelled the doom vibes inherited from Duncan Patterson and entirely abandoned the label of a metal band, the leap towards a modern and well-established form of alternative rock must have been a hard hit for the long-haired fans. Yet, the lightening of the sounds and the airy, detail-rich compositions were just a facade behind which lay a subtle and latent unease that had never been so present in Anathema's music. A leap in quality also reflected in the cryptic, psychotic, visionary lyrics, true outbursts written in a rush by a disturbed mind. From whatever angle I consider it, my judgment remains unchanged, and I am not ashamed to express it: A Fine Day to Exit is Anathema's lost masterpiece, without taking anything away from the rest of their discography and with all due respect to the band, who have always been somewhat reluctant to showcase it live.

But let's return to the present day. What exactly happened during the long break after A Natural Disaster is known only to Anathema; what is certain is that Danny Cavanagh & co. have developed a new vision of the world, now made of universal love, nostalgia, light, dreams, stars, shining eyes, and so on. Put this way, I wouldn't do justice to the string of good (if not excellent) albums released since 2010, and indeed We're Here Because We're Here, despite its high glycemic index, remains one of their best works and the pinnacle of this new direction. Notable also were the subsequent Weather Systems (2012) and Distant Satellites (2014), which, however, sometimes travel dangerously along the edges of redundancy: so, how to proceed?

The answer, in my opinion unsatisfactory, comes with The Optimist, conceived as a sort of sequel (at least conceptually) to the unresolved story of A Fine Day To Exit: the protagonist, trying to escape from who knows what inner monster, got out of the car and, after stripping down, threw himself into the ocean to end his existence. Or maybe not. Did he survive the mental breakdown? The flattened headlights on the minimalist cover of the new album suggest that it wasn't over there, our unnamed character made it and continues his wandering, albeit with another state of mind. Indeed, the story resumes from the intro that reports the coordinates of Silver Strand State Beach, the scene of the crime...

The nervous beats and persistent arpeggios of Leaving It Behind hint at some novelty: Distant Satellites ended with a generous (and wonderful) injection of electronics, so why not continue down that path, perhaps pushing it further? The opening track seems to suggest this; pity that this time the melody struggles to take off, partly due to a Vincent on the mic more monotonous than expected. Endless Ways decidedly raises the tone and confirms itself as the winning piece of the batch: what might seem like yet another romantic ballad sung with usual grace by Lee Douglas soon erupts into an electrifying explosion, retracing the numerous climaxes of recent albums without, however, disappointing.

The last sighs, unfortunately, come from the title track. Piano, duet between Lee and Vincent, a profusion of strings (argh!), a final restart, a simple solo with an epic scope: the formula feels familiar, but such a display of class could be enough to keep the game going, if only from here on a slow and inexorable decline did not follow. The instrumental San Francisco reprises the melody of Endless Ways and sketches the nocturnal landscape of a bustling metropolis, while its semi-instrumental companion Springfield, meticulously arranged, still follows the path of emotional peaks: they glide by pleasantly and gracefully, like a road movie soundtrack, but the sparkle begins to wane.

Again, the affected whispers of Douglas in Ghosts, another dream-pop ballad recycled ad nauseam and with a chorus as lovely as it is weak; they have already written countless tracks like this, and far more memorable ones. And when Anathema tries even for a moment to change the game, the result seems contrived: Close Your Eyes, sung by the increasingly prominent Lee, seems like a jazzed-up revisit of The Lost Child, but the ploy to enhance the shady atmosphere of the album with a dash of noir ends up being artificial and stereotyped, as well as out of context.

And in all this, where has good Vincent gone? He reappears in Can't Let Go, the inevitable rocky detour which, however, sounds like the bad copy of the bad copy of the already uninspiring Get Off, Get Out; and our singer's vocal interpretation, usually capable of breaking the heart especially in intimate moments, continues to be elusive and far from his standards. As, for that matter, are the lyrics throughout the album, and elusive is Wildfires, which seems to exist only by virtue of the (once again!) final crescendo, with melody, composition, and arrangements pared to the bone. What to say, then, of the closing Back to the Start? We remember Anathema's mastery in wrapping up their works beautifully: the poignant poetry of Temporary Peace, the introspection of Violence, the clear calm of Take Shelter. Now, instead, it is the turn of a fake Steven Wilson-like piece with anesthetic effects, something the same Steven Wilson could write in an afternoon under the spell of a heavy post-lunch nap. As if we hadn't had enough, to seal this hour of somewhat inconclusive music, we find yet another pompous climax with a triumph of strings and choir.

What to say? The mistake was not so much re-linking to a magnificent album from sixteen years ago; at most, it is an aggravating factor that may have raised expectations more than necessary (at least for me): the points of connection with A Fine Day To Exit are exhausted in the car portrayed on the cover and some fleeting citations here and there. Anathema reiterates they have nothing to share with their past, indeed, they want to confront it; and so far, it had been working well. We can avoid complicating our lives and ignore the backstory, but even considering it for what it is, the work of artists with almost three decades of experience, The Optimist remains largely a mediocre, lukewarm album, whose "dark" tones (quotation marks mandatory) serve only as a pretext to recycle the usual empty ideas—or, at best, hint at new ones without going beyond mere craftsmanship.

The protagonist of the story may have overcome their traumas, perhaps returned home to embrace their family, and Anathema insist on pointing us to the light awaiting at the end of the tunnel. After all, one cannot live solely on tragedy and self-pity. Some things I can still assert with certainty: that a part of me will remain forever trapped among the impetuous waves of the ocean echoing at the end of A Fine Day To Exit; that, despite this, I was satisfied with the (relative) serenity found again in the Anathema family; that after this blow, it is tough for me to think optimistically about their future; finally, that they have nothing left to prove, that I am grateful for what they have given me over the years, and for this reason, I will not be overly upset if they allow themselves to age badly from now on.