Brendan Perry
Ark

I consider "Into The Labyrinth" by Dead Can Dance one of the most intense, magnetic, and fascinating albums I've ever been fortunate enough to hear: it's only logical that [my] senses heighten whenever I catch wind that either of its two protagonists, even in a solo capacity, creators of the still unmatched and unyielding work from the last century, are set to extract new sonic material to be explored.

The release of "Ark," the second solo work of the baritone English vocalist Brendan Perry, dates back to last April and comes a good eleven years after his first solo work ("Eye Of The Hunter," 1999) following the artistic split, several years earlier, from the extraordinary Australian vocalist Lisa Gerrard.

The most significant novelty compared to previous productions consists solely of the use of synthesizers and artificial engineering that replace any acoustic/classical instruments used in the past; the project takes on the somber guise of an underground, meditative, leaden, pseudo-Trip Hop with tones as black as pitch: described in this way, it might seem like a diminishing of the framework with which we were once pleasantly acquainted. And perhaps it would be so if it weren't for that added value: our Hero's mighty voice has not lost an ounce of its ancestral magnetism, if anything, it often proves to be truly inspired and in more than dignified form.

Among the tracks, the two gems that open and close the work definitely deserve a mention: "Babylon" a very dark monolith with our Hero's voice ascending and sailing towards peaks unattainable by most, and "Crescent" a murky kaleidoscope of subliminal suggestions, born of the "Labyrinth" that was: songs that seem to have been composed for a new constructed album under the name Dead Can Dance in 2005, which apparently will not (for now) see the light of day.

In any case, in musically apocalyptic times like those we are experiencing, I would say one can seek asylum and protection in this reliable, solid, dark yet salvific Ark.