Chiral
Hope

It's the oldest story in the world, it's "l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle", it's a tale as old as time that when you hear it described by others, it seems like the most obvious thing on this earth, but when you live it, it almost feels like no one understands you.

You find yourself alone, lost in thoughts, holding a crumpled photo of hers, trying to figure out where you went wrong, overwhelmed by waves of anger, pride, and melancholy, reliving your memories. You think back to when you first met her, how you wouldn’t have bet a thing on that story. Yet you grew up with that person, learning to know her, to appreciate her, you opened up to her, and she herself seemed to want to slowly open up. Day after day, the warmth increased, the love grew, distances vanished with just a phone call or a message, a whispered "I love you," and you were fine for the whole day. Then, one day, something changes: you want more, she wants less; you need her presence, you seem to perceive her mood swings in the passing clouds or in the randomness of things, you feel fear under your skin, you feel everything slipping away, and you try to hold onto what's left with anger. But her clothes turn into sand that scatters through your hands, your words don't seem to come out as you wish, and the pebble on the slope loses its last degree of equilibrium starting its ruinous fall downhill. And in the end, since we speak of an end, what remains for you? Memories, pride, regret for something you could have done differently, and anger. There is, however, still a little warmth, a little flame that, undeterred by the wind around, continues to burn steadfastly. It's hope, that damned, bastard hope that makes you wake up every morning. To retrieve what was lost? Perhaps. Or maybe to find those same sensations elsewhere, in other people, that made you feel good. Because in the end love, death, broken hearts, it's all part of the "mortal way", it's all a circle that, regardless of us who are in the middle, follows its path. And you know, actually hope, that eventually, everything will begin again, only to perhaps end once more (who knows!), but in the meantime, you would give an arm to relive the same sensations.

Chiral's new work is an album about absence, farewells, whispered words, and glass shattered by blind rage. Our artist’s vision has gradually shifted from the outside to the inside, from a contemplation of what's outside to what's inside each of us, to our self. It's an intimate and suffering album because it touches sensitive chords, which we all have and to which we cannot remain indifferent. The atmospheric black metal, reminiscent of Chiral's depressive beginnings, becomes even more intense here, corrupted by post (rock and metal) moments, folk suggestions, and drones that sporadically emerge to bewilder the listener. It's an album made of contrasts, presence/absence, love/hate, joy/fear, warm/cold: now it lashes you, now it caresses you, it muddles you with sharp riffs as well as with sweet and melancholic chants. This work, "Hope", is to be considered as the end of the triptych composed of the previous "Night Sky" and "Gazing Light Eternity": here everything blends, reconnects, the narrative is brought together, and you prepare for what will be.
Listen to it now, with this season, at home by a fire perhaps, and think of how much you’ve been through and how much more will happen, even starting tomorrow. A healing album.