Apocynthion
Sidereus Nuncius

He went to sleep, as usual, but the next morning he did not open his eyes again. His life had been long, full of satisfactions, devoted to his faith and ideals, he had no regrets, and in the evening, before falling asleep, he felt a greater sense of peace than usual. Not that he had never felt a similar sensation: his religion, his creed, had made him taste moments of ecstasy day after day, but this time it was different, he felt that all the pieces of the puzzle that made up his existence had finally come together, he had seen the final picture, and he had fallen asleep with peace in his heart. The next day, from the top of the heavens where his soul had gone once the body was abandoned, he could observe the scene. Some men, his longtime friends, went to his room, lifted his limbs, stripped them, and took them out of the building, intoning a chant and accompanying their steps with hypnotic and rhythmic bells. Once outside, the tomden arrived: from the saddlebag, he pulled out a huge knife, and once sharpened, he had the body laid on the bare ground, and, after raising his eyes to the sky and encircling his hands more and more times, began his ritual.

The cold blade incised the cold flesh, which in shreds fell onto the cold rocks: piece by piece his body was stripped once more, his entrails, his fibers, his muscles, everything was exposed to the icy morning wind. The day was splendid: not a cloud, only a high and shining sun, and from up there his view was perfect. He had no remorse about what was happening, he felt no pain nor suffering nor horror: he had seen similar scenes already, he was used to them, and they did not move him.

Once the work was finished, the tomden stood up: “Shey, shey” he said, raising his eyes to the sky and directing them towards the vultures that, meanwhile, had gathered above the body, gliding slowly attracted by the smell of flesh and the juniper fire, lit shortly before. He took a few steps back, raised both arms as if to embrace the birds, who had started their descent towards the corpse. When they were all above it, it was no longer possible to see anything, except their curved shoulders and beaks descending to the ground, where they stayed for a few seconds, then they rose, carrying some reddish shreds. After a few minutes, they began to swarm, and only then was it possible to see what was left of his remains: only bones, white sticks scattered on the bare earth. The tomden smiled, raised his eyes again, and clasped his hands in prayer. He did the same from the top of the heavens: he looked down gratefully towards that holy man, looked at the vultures, now far from the carcass, and thanked them. “Shey, shey” he said to them.

Then he closed his eyes and prepared himself: this parenthesis had lasted too long, it was now time to get ready to be reborn, it was time to start anew the great cycle of life.

The Spanish band Apocynthion is yet another discovery from Pest Productions. We can safely classify the quartet's offering as the much-maligned post black metal, a genre that owes its notoriety to ensembles like Alcest, Amesoeurs, Austere, Les Discrets, and many others. Specifically, what our band plays could be defined as "blackgaze," a shoegaze tinged with the dark accelerations of black and crossed by the icy scream of the singer, who often alternates with a clean voice that owes much to dark wave. With "Sidereus Nuncius" they aim to describe the fragile balance that exists between man and the universe he inhabits, they attempt to transport the listener to distant worlds, to tear him from his own reality, confronting him with his smallness, and they succeed splendidly thanks to seven medium-length pieces full of pathos, atmosphere, pure instrumental digressions, and fiery black scores. If you love the groups mentioned above and are looking for an album with great potential and that can surprise you multiple times during listening, you can’t miss this work, among the surprises of 2013.