Antonius Rex
Praeternatural

Year of Demons 1980: the stylistic quest of Antonio Bartoccetti and his spouse seems to find no peace. "Praeternatural" marks another evolution in the sound of Antonius Rex: progressive more in spirit than in form, the two pioneers of esoteric rock reach a new musical dimension.

Setting aside some of the more canonically rock solutions, "Praeternatural" presents itself as a long experiment where horror atmospheres, esoteric suggestions, ambient, electronic, prog, and virulent metal lashes (though far from the genre's standards) coexist. What emerges is not only the pinnacle of Bartoccetti's artistic and philosophical research but a true nightmare set to music that, in my opinion, finds no equal in rock history (if it's still appropriate to call it rock).

Almost entirely instrumental, this chapter of the saga consists of six composite episodes, enhanced this time by a production that definitively removes them from the seventies' realm: synthetic sounds and the use of electronics catapult Antonius Rex's music into the eighties. Music that shows no signs of aging, continuing to sound raw and dark in a decade of polished sounds (that saw many illustrious prog bands decline), maintaining the mystical charm that has always set it apart.

Already timeless in the sixties and seventies, Magus Antonio's autistic journey continues beyond time, demonstrating the timeless talent of this small but great artist. A talent that is evidently neither the fleeting fire of a fortunate season nor the opportunistic offspring of a fervent scene (that of Italy's prog in the seventies). In the exhausting opening suite "Halloween", Bartoccetti's distorted voice gives us the most garish welcome imaginable: a monstrous "Welcome to Halloween Night", clearly enunciated with a devilish voice. This solution might frankly raise eyebrows among those who, like me, appreciated the past choice of writing lyrics in Latin and Italian.

The guitar, as usual, makes us wait: first, we must endure gusts of wind, desolate piano phrases, and the powerful orchestrations mastered by the ever-great Doris Norton (who ups the ante with a "The land of magic", whispered with a witchy voice!): compared to the past, there is undoubtedly a greater taste for kitsch ideas straight out of a Z-grade horror movie. But this is only a superficial gloss, one that, on one hand, diminishes the mystical allure of the whole, but on the other hand, increases the trash component of the work, elevating it to cult status, akin to a Fulci or Bava film.

The guitar finally attacks our ears: it's the unmistakable phrases of the Magister, frenetic riffs repeated to the point of obsession, urged on by the simple ticking of the bass drum, left in empty space, and surrounded by a casing of icy keyboards. The magnificent solos highlight the further technical growth of the guitarist, who, as always, balances majestic doom sketches, atmospheric pauses, and aimless rhythms that seem to lead nowhere: Antonius Rex's rock is deconstructed and reassembled in "Praeternatural" according to mysterious dictates of an unknown magical formula.

The short "Falsum et Violentia" blatantly refers to the famous "Halloween" soundtrack theme; the lyrics ("The year was two-thousand-four-hundred-and-eighteen, falsehood, and violence were still humans' first rules, and humans continued to forget and desire only what they didn't have") underscore Our protagonist's misanthropic attitude, who from his castle (the legendary Antonius Castle) observes with detached cynicism (and barely concealed haughtiness) the fate of a humanity in perpetual decline.

The imposing title track is instead the conceptual peak of the work (and perhaps of Bartoccetti's entire philosophical journey): opened by a faltering arpeggio and menacing orchestrations (it's Norton ruling this album), the piece meanders haltingly between guitar explosions and sudden catatonic pauses. The enigmatic lyrics, dense with symbols and elusive pronouncements, draw us in and hypnotize us, but in the finale, in an unprecedented burst of communication, the piece turns into a horror prog of full respect, where similarities with fellow musicians Goblin can be found. The exceptional guitar solos, abstract constructions aimed at the morbid, are supported by a powerful drum-machine that finally sets the right rhythm, making listening flow smoothly as never before. After a brief atmospheric interlude ("Montsegur Legend"), the drum-machine resumes its role in the powerful "Capturing Universe", another cornerstone track of the album ("Infinitesimal moments fatefully shape the existence of ordinary mortals" states the brief but eloquent lyrics). The biting guitars return, pairing with majestic keyboards and Gregorian choirs without particular virtuosity, outlining an aerial, spatial song worthy of the Marchesan musician's art, who, as always, prioritizes the message's substance over sterile style exercises (for the record, this track will enjoy moderate future success thanks to a remix by the couple's son, better known in techno circles with the pseudonym Rexanthony, who will rename the piece "Capturing Matrix").

The haunting "Invisible Force" closes the set, a tense and atmospheric piece in which the most mysterious and esoteric side of Antonius Rex's music resurfaces. As happened in the controversial "Devil's Letter" in "Neque Semper Arcum...", the ambient phrases and fractures of a mystically decaying world do the talking. Electronics lend a hand and, amidst unsettling noises, organ openings, and reversed speech, the tension is truly palpable. As if something significant is about to happen at any moment; as if a door to other worlds is about to open at any moment. "Eight doors to open..."

"Praeternatural", a work to listen to and rediscover continuously in its conceptual complexity and its dense layering of meanings and sonic details, is yet another confirmation of Antonio Bartoccetti's integrity and intransigence, an artist outside the norms, alien to any commercial logic, and decidedly far from any comparison with any other musician in the metal, prog, or ritual domain. Not only recommended for horror atmosphere enthusiasts but for all those who, as true connoisseurs, know how to look beyond the veil of appearances and appreciate the secret talent lurking behind the indomitable flamboyance of the most irreverent and daring rock. Yeah!