Blood Axis
Born Again

"Out of Fate's dark well, flows the flicket lot

Today you stand fast and tall, tomorrow you'll totter upon the wave"

It took fourteen years, fourteen bloody years to finally hold in our hands the successor of the monumental "Gospel", until yesterday the only work released by Blood Axis in their sparse career. However, listening to the long-awaited latest effort of the seminal American industrial act, one can certainly affirm that it was worth the wait!

We could say whatever we like, but 2010 is undoubtedly a significant year, witnessing great comebacks, and recent releases from Burzum (fourteen years of waiting) and Anathema (only seven, but interminable nonetheless) come to mind. And if for the band led by the Cavanagh brothers, the return is a simple statement of existence ("We're Here Because We're Here"), for the good Vikernes and the equally good Moynihan, it's a case of actual resurrection. More than a few analogies can be found between the concept behind “Belus” (the struggle for the rebirth of the god Belus through the world of Darkness) and the present “Born Again”, centered on themes of time, its passing, and the transformations occurring therein. On the living, dying, and rebirth of things. In other words, on the concept of metamorphosis.

But where for Burzum, resurrection comes through the exhumation of the glorious sound that was (a reappropriation of lost identity and especially freedom), for the Blood Axis entity, reemerging in the new millennium represents a radical stylistic shift, distancing themselves from what was an epoch-making work like “Gospel” (an identity that remains strong despite the changes): Blood Axis are no longer proponents of the harshest industrial we can imagine, but choose to soften their sounds and embrace the stylistics of the most archaic and evocative folk.

A metamorphosis that, in truth, was quite foreseeable already from the seeds of novelty sown in the phantasmagoric live “Blót: Sacrifice in Sweden”, and more generally, from the changes brought about by the full-time inclusion in the line-up of that “pure” maiden, Moynihan's partner, named Annabel Lee. A foresight further reinforced by the nature of the various collaborations undertaken over the years, which saw our three brave members bolster the ranks of more typically folk formations like Fire + Ice, In Gowan Ring, The Lindbergh Baby, etc.

A change I had already tasted live in 2005 in Florence, where I found myself watching Moynihan take the stage not in uniform, as a mad preacher, but with the guise of a rough and dirty long-haired bearded man in a white shirt and waistcoat, almost as if stepped straight out of a Faulkner novel. The concert, for the record, was quite a break, between endless and languid folkloric excursions and Roman salutes, but even this wasn't enough to hinder the devotion for a band that, for better or worse, had contributed to revolutionizing the industrial music scene.

Thus, the metamorphosis has been accomplished, heralded by the very Latin verses intentionally selected from Ovid's “Metamorphoses”; a metamorphosis taking life and final form in a solid twelve tracks (including an intro, an outro, and a brief interlude for a total of 61 minutes), especially with the festive and bacchanalian tones of the seismic opener "Song of the Comrade". The folk of the reborn Blood Axis is thus anchored to the vein of tutelary names of the genre such as Sol Invictus and Fire + Ice, foregoing the more typically "apocalyptic" atmospheres to fully embrace the motions of a more traditional folk, rooting directly in Celtic tradition, Irish folk (!), Scottish folk (!!), American country-folk (!!!). A proud, fearless, epic, excellently orchestrated folk, not shying away from a robust rhythmic base and the mischievous interventions of an electric guitar; a folk assembled with conviction and professionalism, also thanks to the contribution of a large cohort of musicians harvested who knows where over the past five years of restless wandering of Moynihan and company across the lands of Portugal, Austria, and native Colorado.

Obviously, the trio remains compact, and the music of the Axis fundamentally stays the encounter of the three foundational personalities of the project, namely the indispensable Michael Moynihan (vocals and percussion), trusted Robert Ferbrache (guitar and keyboards), and providential Annabel Lee (violin, accordion, piano, and vocals). It's a work that, more than from a strictly musical standpoint (because let's face it: Irish folk quite frankly sucks to me!), shines rather from Moynihan's enormous work in research, rediscovery, translation, adaptation, and interpretation of texts from the most disparate origins (but coherent with the author's worldview), sung in Latin, in archaic and modern English, in German, and even in Vedic Sanskrit (the language of ancient Hindu writings considered among the oldest in human history).

If Blood Axis's music was primarily music of transfiguration, today it becomes “canonical” in form, to transfer all its conceptual force exclusively onto the lyrical plane. Where before they proceeded by imagery, now they proceed by words: a lyrical and textual exploration that boldly dodges genre clichés (many of which were themselves dismantled by Blood Axis) to dig even deeper within the roots of history, philosophy, and human culture, and progress further. So much so that in 2010, the Axis appears increasingly out of step with our time: the music of the Axis is no longer a forward escape as with the incredible Gospel, but becomes a gaze now deeply oriented toward the past. With the paradoxical result that it manages to maintain its rough originality and vivid propulsion, drawing inspiration from the least avant-garde piece ever produced in their career, which excited me the least since Lee’s integration into the lineup: that roaring reinterpretation of the Irish traditional classic "The March of Brian Boru", which today becomes the paradigm of the new course, so much that the 2010 music of the Axis is nothing but Irish music with 12th-century texts! Not exactly the evolution many of us would have expected from the most irreverent and inconvenient reality in the recent industrial scene!

And so, returning to the initial "Song of the Comrade", our brow might furrow at the pompous Oktoberfest-like moods of Lee's accordion (decidedly more at ease dealing with the violin!), were it not for Moynihan's unmistakable deep voice, called to darken a folk that in its advance can appear relaxed, sunny, full of pulsating life. And it is indeed the fascinating recited of our protagonist, at times close to the speaking Boyd Rice, that stands as the only real stylistic bridge between the old and the new Blood Axis (although the fact is acknowledged that the guitar, keyboards, Ferbrache's organ, and Lee's violin will know how to deliver genuine chills, recalling the band's past, having become themselves a true trademark of the Axis).

But it is obviously Moynihan who is the true driving force of the entire caravan, who from the booklet photos already appears as the proud captain of the "ship of the righteous". A titanic visionary, capable of seeing beyond the horizon and guiding his sailors: (as intoned in the already mentioned "Song of the Comrade") where the comrade sleeps, doubts, falls, He is ready to watch over him, to give faith, to discover the Oasis for both. The 2010 Moynihan thus appears to us as a vigorous and benevolent father, not without concerns for the future and aware of the hardships the path of his people shall hold, yet he moves upon firm certainties. As if, in a typically Evolian sense, adopting a cyclical view of History, he stands amidst ruins waiting for better times, an unheeded preacher, a true spokesperson of an elite self-proclaimed as bearers of the wisdom upon which to rebuild Man.

The three parts of "Madhu" are, however, a spurious variable in the overall context, suggesting that the path taken by the Axis will again be unpredictable and heralding low blows: opened and closed by muttering invocations in authentic Sanskrit over uneasy carpets of strings and bagpipes, the track moves sinuously between contrasting scenarios, boasting among other things a melodic interlude where gentle angelic choirs flirt with the apocalyptic recitation of our protagonist, at times attempting to soar into outright singing ("We have drunk and become undead, We have gained what the Gods once hid").

It's a pity that instead, the discourse will continue in the vein of a folk with a highly canonical structure (verse/chorus) and a more than predictable development. Not that this displeases us overly: Lee's violin, inspired in every move, intertwines divinely with the self-indulgent plucking of Ferbrache, sometimes retreating into poignant and evocative ballads ("Wulf and Eadwcer", "Churging and Churging", and "Erwachen in der Nacht" among the best), sometimes climbing into robust folkloric gallops, unstoppable crescendos where the violin flails restlessly incited by trotting percussions of an irreversibly martial step (a modus operandi that will find its utmost sublimation in the lengthy and exhausting title-track). Only occasionally, the path will be illuminated by the angelic vocal interventions of Lee, often called to lovingly support her husband in the choirs but who in "The Path" (an almost crowd-pleaser piece vigorously moving between gothic-rock and singer-songwriting à la Cave) ends up carving out a protagonist role.

In all this, I nonetheless wish to mention a piece particularly dear to my heart and which in my opinion is the only one that evokes the old (beloved) Blood Axis. I'm talking about the excellent "The Vortex", a metaphysical ambient track where Lee's mammoth piano paves the way for the reading of a passage from Richard Jefferies' “The Story of the Heart”: a direct heir of a piece like "Between Birds of Prey" (the zenith of the Wagnerian symphonism of the Gospel), "The Vortex" opens an infinite abyss in which Moynihan's recitation unfolds insoluble questions for humankind ("Can any creed, philosophy, system, or culture endure the test and remain unmolten in this fierce focus of human life?"), in a truly apocalyptic context situated halfway between Coil’s “Red Queen” and Current 93's “Hypnagogue”. In a word: sublime.

Not for every palate, this “Born Again”, not because it's difficult as “Gospel” could be, but perhaps because it's too seemingly normal. Difficult, after all, to digest the bouncing banjo and the country-like escapes animating the title-track, and perhaps many will deem all this a pretentious and laughable show. Even the undersigned occasionally harbors such suspicion. And probably not even I, who have lent myself to drafting this review, have allowed myself the necessary time to adequately metabolize and grasp the actual worth of an undeniably challenging work, or perhaps just a seemingly challenging one. In any case, not even remotely comparable to the "Gospel", which I continue to prefer.

But then what was I supposed to do? After futilely searching for a review online of this “Born Again,” I realized the only one I could read, in Italy, in Europe, perhaps in the world, would be mine.

Here I am served.