Deca
Onirodrome Apocalypse

The skies of the apocalypse gather over the metamorphic metropolis, charged with electricity and sulfur, casting sinister shadows between skyscrapers and trees, while strange elevators invite a transfer to the fourth dimension and an exploration of disturbing labyrinths. And the silhouette of a hanged man stands out against the backdrop of a silent, omen-filled dawn.

The cover of Onirodrome Apocalypse is the perfect emotional and visionary calling card for the content of this beautiful album that I procured as soon as it was released. Content that—as I expected—transcends and surpasses the simple musical sphere and engages complex narrative and conceptual structures. Following the path of these eight tracks immediately becomes an all-encompassing experience that is not just "listening to music." The dreamlike component is not an appealing pretext casually thrown into the title, but the backbone, the keystone of this new chapter in Deca's long and honorable career. He reconfirms his ability to achieve great feats both creatively and technically, reaching a formal and linguistic balance that very few composers in Italy can guarantee.

As the cover notes indicate, Deca creates his sounds autonomously, mainly by processing environmental noises and voices, using a transversal process that allows him to produce electronic music from non-electronic raw material. He then adds synthesizer and keyboard parts that provide a harmonic and melodic dimension to the whole, with a highly impactful result that is the sound of another world or another dimension: that of the metamorphic city or perhaps that of each one's inner labyrinth.

Alba Obscura is the discreet and ever-growing opening of this journey, beautiful in its choral solutions, with echoes of Popol Vuh and Brian Eno, yet pervaded by an anxious and fatalistic shiver.

Metamorphic Metropolis momentarily returns to urban chaos by mixing the rhythmic cadences of everyday life with hypnotic voices and watery orchestrations.

Vilisa is a sinister and melancholic masterpiece embroidered by an alien piano.

LV Dies moves solemnly following a flock of synthetic clarinets flying over deserted mountains. Cronotorsione, in three movements, mediates between ambient and industrial suggestions until its almost sacred epilogue.

Victor Enigma intertwines bizarre robotic sounds in the depths before becoming an Arabian-themed piece marked by a digital engine.

Onirodrome is a work within a work, a large sonic mural of scenes ranging from symphonic to tribal, passing through the voices of the Beyond and the sonars of memory.

Apocalypse ends this journey like an esoteric epitaph, laden with tension, and on the grave notes of a pipe organ, it leaves one amazed and aware that reality "goes beyond."

As far as I know, the album is inspired by a novel that Deca himself is finalizing, and thus—as already happened with Aracnis Radiarum in 2007—the tracks would represent an ideal soundtrack to the narrated story. However, remembering precisely previous examples, more than a descriptive complement, the music in this context assumes a more layered significance: it suggests atmospheres, creates expectations, shapes moods that certainly the written word could not convey. Of course, the imagination opens truly apocalyptic doors to the imminent publication of this novel.

An acknowledged heir of Simbionte (2002) and Automa Ashes (2010), this tenth studio album takes the author's personal experimentation to its extreme consequences without crossing the boundary of his style, thus remaining faithful to a now unmistakable trademark.

It also reconfirms that after almost thirty years of activity, Deca continues not to conform to the recording establishment, consolidating an enviable niche position and at the same time of prominence, maintaining an extremely high-quality level by producing his work completely independently (after the nonetheless gratifying experience with RaiTrade).