Anti
The Insignificance Of Life

Every time you get momentarily distracted, a new promising band emerges in Germany: Scandinavia gave birth to Black Metal, and France and the United States have carried on the heavy legacy; but if there's one scene that should be particularly dear to those interested, it is the German one. From Nargaroth to Bethlehem, from Absurd to Nocte Obducta, along with hundreds of other promising realities, German bands have managed to establish themselves without following trends, always maintaining a very underground profile.

Anti was the guitarist of Darkmoon Warrior, an obscure band from Leipzig, where Krieg also plays, offering his sharp voice here. The group's offering isn't particularly original, in an already overcrowded Depressive scene whose stylistic coordinates have already been codified by hundreds of bands. Doing something revolutionary is a utopia. Even thematically, every possible extremism has been touched upon, ranging from ideas like Physical Pain, Existential Pain, Madness, Solitude, Isolation, Suicide...

"The Insignificance Of Life" goes beyond these considerations, asserting itself as a fantastic work. It is proof that to compose a good album, you don't really need incredible originality if you possess an extraordinary personality.

All the clichés of modern Depressive are completely skipped: in a time where Xasthur's model (liquid guitars, keyboards, and dissonant psychedelia) dominates, Anti dives back into the past, drawing heavily from Burzum (Filosofem) and Abyssic Hate, in a way connecting to contemporary experiences like the Italian Enthroning Silence: the same distorted voice, the same smoky, heavy, and suffocating riffs, more gray and gloomy than horrific. However, the result in my opinion is better than the Italian group, also due to some elements that differentiate Anti from its illustrious models.

First and foremost, the conceptual universe within which the project operates. Suicide and the Malaise of Living are present as in any production worthy of this name, but the angle from which these themes are treated is slightly different, giving the album a truly desperate aura. A reading of the lyrics is recommended to all those who believe that this is a fake genre by definition, given that the musicians representing it are more than alive, enjoying the revenues from sales (millions of euros, I imagine).

Anti abandons any desires for change or struggle, which could lead to a painful decision like suicide; there isn't even a true resignation, a throwing in the towel in the face of difficulties. There is nothing left. Anti is the verb of this inner void. If Nortt indulges in his visions of death, metaphysical and cerebral, exploring a world that is other than the human and concrete one, Anti's reflections are all about earthly life: even if it initially impacts less than the Dane's work, the German, in the long run, is really more frightening than Nortt.

"Zero Point" is one of the album's peaks; a slow and granite riff supports a melancholic arpeggio, which gradually transforms into a solo of piercing beauty. The Zero Point is reached with

"When emotions no longer exist

When the last piece of humanity

Inside of you is dead"

In a very raw abandonment mantra,

"When the chemicals burn your stomach

When the heroin separates your soul from your body"

A fragment representing the definitive emancipation from the Norwegian scene is also touched upon, in which the detachment from the allure of the world is consumed.

"When the calling of the fullmoon

Doesn't get you anymore

When the nights lost all their beauty"

Or "Nothing," the opening track, which speaks of the relationship between oneself and the people around us: the text touches on Pirandellian ideas (obviously unknowingly), overturning them: it's no longer others reading us in the way that makes them happiest, turning us into puppets or masks, but rather, we conform to them, "like mirrors," to make them happy and to distance them from our person, in a celebration of life as a continuous performance.

The music is as exquisite as the words, always balancing between the gray of the rhythmic guitars and the colors of the solo, between the lacerating voice and the coldness of the drum machine.

(Un)recommended. After this adrenaline rush (??) I wish you my warmest, sincerest, cordial, affectionate, and caring holiday wishes...