Antonius Rex
Switch On Dark

The award-winning Bartoccetti/Norton duo returns. A 26-year wait, considering that their last official full-length, the seminal "Praeternatural," dates back to the "demonic year" 1980. A wait only partially fulfilled with last year's experiment "Magic Ritual" (a CD/DVD where past video and audio material is reworked), which can be considered nothing more than a tasty appetizer ahead of the long-announced return to the scene of the legendary tricolor formation, relaunched in recent years by the providential reissues of Black Widow.

With this "Switch on Dark," the dialogue seems to pick up right where it left off. In fact, beyond the "modernist brush" given by attentive production work, which adapts the sounds to today's standards and introduces unprecedented electronic solutions for the band, what Magus Antonio and company offer us is an excellent album of dark progressive music as only they can create: six long and visionary compositions, teetering between dreamy atmospheres, horrific moments, and full-blown metal assaults, forming a dark and evocative journey, a true mystical experience aimed, as a phrase in the booklet states, at the search for one's Inner Silence. Their music is not in a hurry, and it plays with nuances, evolving in a deliberate manner, with the decisiveness of those who know what they are doing. Music that proceeds cautiously, through observations, cues, hints, in a continuous alternation of fullness and emptiness, absences and Presences. Music that also carries the allure of occult and esoteric themes, which are addressed here and have always constituted the trademark of Ours, who for this occasion enlist the philosophical and paragnostic contribution of Romanian medium Monica Tasnad, called upon to lend her "witch vox" in more than one instance.

The rhythmic element, according to the tradition in Bartoccetti's house, is reduced to the bare minimum (a true oxymoron, if you consider it, for a band devoted to a genre like progressive), leaving as usual enormous spaces for meditation and the ambient breathing of the keyboards, synthesizers, and the "digital" orchestra arranged by the ever-excellent Norton. A winding and entirely unpredictable path is what we are about to embark on.

Mighty orchestrations with a cinematic flavor, pompous symphonic constructions with a martial pace, Gregorian chants with menacing inquisitorial tones intertwine in disturbing plots aimed at recreating, piece by piece, a fantastic and unsettling dimension. Then the roar of a storm, the patter of rain, the whistling of the wind: suddenly, everything stops, the music decomposes, crumples in on itself, and finally disappears into silence, into dark and minimalist ambient phrases. Bell tolls, a rustle, a door slamming. A tense atmosphere, on "who goes there" alert. Then a scream, glass shattering, a door bursting open, a sudden noise that jolts us and opens up a new musical dimension: Norton's majestic organ openings, the chilling piano weaving unsettling melodies, the Master's guitar attacks, expertly moving between obsessive doom moments, captivating rhythms, and delightful solos with a '70s flavor. An evocative guitar, his, capable of constructing a rite that has a mystical quality, of embroidering symbols, posing enigmas, delineating geometries as always personal and by no means trivial. And as usual, used sparingly (but at the same time with extreme effectiveness), as if each note had a profound meaning, a special energy that must not be wasted in any way.

An album, this "Switch on Dark," pervaded by an unprecedented romanticism, animated by a fantastic atmosphere, at times sensual, from a fatal night, between witch whispers and fairy embraces. Where nothing is as it seems. Where the path becomes riddled with pitfalls and deceitful appearances. Where the sweetest call might actually be the most dangerous of snares. This sensation is reinforced by the elegance of the arrangements (never before so meticulously crafted) and by the modern and sophisticated production, curated by Bartoccetti's own son, better known in the hardcore techno scenes under the moniker Rexanthony.

A masterpiece? I cannot say for sure, as it's difficult to distinguish between emotions attributable to the intrinsic value of the album's contents and those that arise instead from the callback, between one citation and another, of past masterpieces. Certainly, time and repeated listenings will enlighten us, but for now, nearly two weeks after its purchase, I can say that there are essentially three weaknesses that I feel this otherwise excellent "Switch on Dark" presents, weaknesses that I identify and lay out solely as my personal opinion, as they pertain to impressions related to my subjective perception of a work impervious to criticism from every point of view. And I must state that my severity stems from the infinite esteem I hold for these artists. (I remain hopeful of eventually changing my mind, something that is indeed possible, given that this is not immediate music and requires assimilation.)

First point: beyond the modern sounds and electronic inserts, there are no significant innovations compared to the past, and above all, there is no correspondence between the music present here and the grandiose "Mysticdrug for the Next Generation" label printed on the back cover. Although deeply inspired, the songwriting remains, in fact, strongly anchored to certain stylistics of decades past, particularly certain sounds from the '70s and '80s, and it could hardly be described as something aimed at the future and directed towards the next generation. And this, although entirely understandable, carries with it a hint of bitterness, if we consider an artist like Antonio Bartoccetti, who has always made innovation, courage, and intransigence his sharpest weapon. A unique artist, outside the box, often not understood and appreciated for his full value, a forerunner (let's remember that "In Cauda Semper Stat Venenum" by Jacula, the first incarnation of Antonius Rex, dates to 1969) of a guitar style that will become wildly popular thanks to the much more famous Black Sabbath. An alien, brilliant, magical guitarist, the true Priest of the six strings, capable, like few others, of transcending his own time... and forgive the heresy, to tell the truth, not even the guitar god Hendrix, still too tied to blues styles, managed to emancipate himself so much from the moods of his own era.

Second point: we must register with great sorrow the abandonment of certain distinctive elements of the band. Bartoccetti's evocative monologue, for example, is almost absent (only occasionally is the title of a track mentioned), while Latin and Italian are replaced by a much more banal English. This does not affect the album much, given that it is practically instrumental, except for the angelic singing (from Norton?) that appears at a certain point in the title track. But that's not all: the rhythmic lines (whether programmed or performed by a flesh-and-blood drummer) appear too linear and banal, flattening the intelligence of certain passages to the most predictable standards of a more conventional hard-rock. And this too can only displease us if we consider the courage of an album like "Tardo Pede in Magiam Versus" (also by Jacula) totally arrhythmic and almost devoid of guitars: the perfect antithesis of what one might expect from a rock band in the early '70s, when the electric onslaughts of bands like Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin were all the rage.

Third point: the production, although extremely polished and excellent in every way, appears too refined and glossy for a band like Antonius Rex, whose strength lies in the suggestion and evocative power of the proposed music. The sizzling organ, the dirty guitars, the unsettling cosmic and sound excursions, all this is downsized and rendered more earthly by sophisticated and perfectly balanced sounds, and in my opinion, the overall atmosphere of the album suffers from this, partly losing the peculiar sense of mystery and arcane rites that have always characterized the band's music, rather approaching certain fantasy territories typical of today's epic and power metal bands (and the cover, in my opinion, a bit garish and predictable, is a coherent reflection of this).

And so, at first listening, you might feel a hint of disappointment due to the too-soft and defined sounds that take away incisiveness from the guitars and give the whole thing an air of affectation. But I assure you that this will only be a temporary problem. The emblematic example is the opener (and lead single) "Perpetual Adoration," which at first might seem a bit cloying in its progression halfway between Dead Can Dance and Enigma, but then, with subsequent listens, will reveal itself in its simplicity as one of the best moments of the lot. And from here begins the reassessment of the entire album: the inquisitorial atmospheres of "Damnatus in Aeternum" (the most avant-garde episode and linkable to the band's earliest past), the monumental twenty-minute symphonic title track (amidst ethereal warbles, pseudo-growls, and elegant prog transitions); the guitar assaults of "Darkotic" (almost thrash in its progression) and "Fairy Vision" (chilling in its gothic atmospheres), up to the Gregorian litanies of the concluding and unsettling "Mysticdrug".

The multiple nuances, the sudden flashes of genius, the symbols to grasp, the conceptual layers to unveil: this album, "Switch on Dark," is truly well-conceived and of undeniable philosophical depth, capable of revealing its potential only after repeated listens and of leading to complete addiction, to the point where it will be impossible to do without it (and perhaps it is in this sense that it is legitimate to speak of "mystical drug"). A work, finally, that delivers an artist far from retirement, an artist fresh and at the peak of creativity, capable of building a bridge to new generations while retaining innate originality.

What can I say, certainly on par with its illustrious predecessors, perhaps a notch below for the reasons listed above. Those who love and know the band will certainly not be disappointed, while those hearing about them for the first time, and perhaps have a soft spot for groups like Van Der Graaf Generator, Goblin, Black Sabbath, and Tangerine Dream, are immediately invited to embrace the works of Jacula and the masterpieces by Antonius Rex, particularly "Neque Semper Arcum Tendit Rex" and the already mentioned "Praeternatural." As well as, naturally, this splendid "Switch on Dark."

Magister dixit