sly

It is unnecessary to say how "The Angel And The Dark River," in its world of Spleen et Ideal, is not only the Omnio platter of Aaron & Friends but also the definitive work, in my opinion, of the worthy 90s Doom Metal, winning the challenge against all the prominent names that buzzed in those years. Just as the other contemporary Doom acts owe much to the great masters of Romanticism, so too do the Bride have a special regard for Milton and his Paradise Lost. It is easy to get lost in the meanders of a small church enveloped in black, tragically lamenting over a thousand unanswered questions, transposed into a universal feeling of oblivion, with countless observations that offer no peace: Our soul lives an existence that is a deafening noise, mortifying our self with fears, doubts, afflictions, darkness, deprivation, and romanticism, sprouting in catastrophe but within which the Bride wants to analyze the posterior aspect, that is, when one has reached a malevolent resignation, trapped in a desolate and barren land from which there is no escape, but paradoxically finding in it a perverse, cradling pleasure from which one would never want to flee. The cursed poet who sings these painful litanies is indeed Aaron, who abandons the growl of previous Death/Doom works to use clean and anguished vibrations, although the added plus, in my opinion, is Powel's violin, which will peek through for another work only to disappear for 13 years, heart-wrenching and unstoppable in its impact, weaving unforgettable melodies that will then make History. The rhythms in all the tracks remain slow, and all are memorable, although we will limit ourselves to mentioning just a few: "The Cry Of Mankind" is now indispensable for fans, for a thousand of its characteristics, in its long duration, like that paranoid guitar segment that buzzes and repeats infinitely, with a finale featuring such sacred effects. But if the first track is anguished and hopeless, "Black Voyage," with its passionate and romantic violin, clearly marks the less crepuscular side, where tedious resignation gives way to hope. In conclusion, a highly recommended album from an ensemble that has withstood trends for more than two decades, which, with its magical words, continues to move us still.

It is unnecessary to say how "The Angel And The Dark River," in its world of Spleen et Ideal, is not only the Omnio platter of Aaron & Friends but also the definitive work, in my opinion, of the worthy 90s Doom Metal, winning the challenge against all the prominent names that buzzed in those years. Just as the other contemporary Doom acts owe much to the great masters of Romanticism, so too do the Bride have a special regard for Milton and his Paradise Lost. It is easy to get lost in the meanders of a small church enveloped in black, tragically lamenting over a thousand unanswered questions, transposed into a universal feeling of oblivion, with countless observations that offer no peace: Our soul lives an existence that is a deafening noise, mortifying our self with fears, doubts, afflictions, darkness, deprivation, and romanticism, sprouting in catastrophe but within which the Bride wants to analyze the posterior aspect, that is, when one has reached a malevolent resignation, trapped in a desolate and barren land from which there is no escape, but paradoxically finding in it a perverse, cradling pleasure from which one would never want to flee. The cursed poet who sings these painful litanies is indeed Aaron, who abandons the growl of previous Death/Doom works to use clean and anguished vibrations, although the added plus, in my opinion, is Powel's violin, which will peek through for another work only to disappear for 13 years, heart-wrenching and unstoppable in its impact, weaving unforgettable melodies that will then make History. The rhythms in all the tracks remain slow, and all are memorable, although we will limit ourselves to mentioning just a few: "The Cry Of Mankind" is now indispensable for fans, for a thousand of its characteristics, in its long duration, like that paranoid guitar segment that buzzes and repeats infinitely, with a finale featuring such sacred effects. But if the first track is anguished and hopeless, "Black Voyage," with its passionate and romantic violin, clearly marks the less crepuscular side, where tedious resignation gives way to hope. In conclusion, a highly recommended album from an ensemble that has withstood trends for more than two decades, which, with its magical words, continues to move us still.

It is unnecessary to say how "The Angel And The Dark River," in its world of Spleen et Ideal, is not only the Omnio platter of Aaron & Friends but also the definitive work, in my opinion, of the worthy 90s Doom Metal, winning the challenge against all the prominent names that buzzed in those years. Just as the other contemporary Doom acts owe much to the great masters of Romanticism, so too do the Bride have a special regard for Milton and his Paradise Lost. It is easy to get lost in the meanders of a small church enveloped in black, tragically lamenting over a thousand unanswered questions, transposed into a universal feeling of oblivion, with countless observations that offer no peace: Our soul lives an existence that is a deafening noise, mortifying our self with fears, doubts, afflictions, darkness, deprivation, and romanticism, sprouting in catastrophe but within which the Bride wants to analyze the posterior aspect, that is, when one has reached a malevolent resignation, trapped in a desolate and barren land from which there is no escape, but paradoxically finding in it a perverse, cradling pleasure from which one would never want to flee. The cursed poet who sings these painful litanies is indeed Aaron, who abandons the growl of previous Death/Doom works to use clean and anguished vibrations, although the added plus, in my opinion, is Powel's violin, which will peek through for another work only to disappear for 13 years, heart-wrenching and unstoppable in its impact, weaving unforgettable melodies that will then make History. The rhythms in all the tracks remain slow, and all are memorable, although we will limit ourselves to mentioning just a few: "The Cry Of Mankind" is now indispensable for fans, for a thousand of its characteristics, in its long duration, like that paranoid guitar segment that buzzes and repeats infinitely, with a finale featuring such sacred effects. But if the first track is anguished and hopeless, "Black Voyage," with its passionate and romantic violin, clearly marks the less crepuscular side, where tedious resignation gives way to hope. In conclusion, a highly recommended album from an ensemble that has withstood trends for more than two decades, which, with its magical words, continues to move us still.

It's pointless to say how "The Angel And The Dark River," in its world of Spleen et Ideal, is not only the Omnio platter of Aaron & Friends but also, in my opinion, the definitive work of worthy 90s Doom Metal, winning the challenge against all the prominent names that thrived during those years. Just as the other contemporary Doom acts owe much to the great masters of Romanticism, the Bride also pays homage to Milton and his Paradise Lost. It’s easy to get lost in the meanders of a small church cloaked in black, tragically lamenting a thousand unanswered questions, translated into a universal feeling of oblivion, with a thousand observations that leave us restless: Our soul lives an existence that is a deafening noise, mortifying our self with fears, doubts, afflictions, darkness, deprivation, and romanticism, sprouting in catastrophe but in which the Bride seeks to analyze the aspect behind it, namely when one has reached a malevolent resignation, trapped in a barren and desolate wasteland from which there is no escape, yet paradoxically discovering therein a perverse, soothing pleasure that one would never want to flee. The cursed poet singing these tortured litanies is Aaron, who abandons the growl of previous Death/Doom works to employ clean and anguished vibrations, although the standout, in my opinion, is Powel's violin, which will make an appearance for another work before disappearing for 13 years, haunting and relentless in its imprint, weaving unforgettable melodies that will make history. The rhythms across all tracks remain slow, and all are memorable, though we will only mention a few: "The Cry Of Mankind" is now indispensable for fans, for a thousand reasons, in its long duration, like that paranoid guitar segment that drones endlessly, that ending with such sacred effects. But if the first track is anguished and hopeless, "Black Voyage," with its passionate and romantic violin, clearly marks the less twilight side, where tedious resignation gives way to hope. In conclusion, this is a highly recommended album from an ensemble that has resisted trends for more than two decades, whose magical words continue to evoke emotions even today.

I started to get to know them through "Symbolic": it is indeed part of the second phase of their career, and therefore its main matrix is techno-Death, although there are many other elements: highly technical, progressive tensions, heavy reminiscences, precise and compact drumming with surgical accuracy, and venomous riffs, all executed as if they were jazz scores. Not to mention that the songs are very thoughtful, brilliant, and intricate, impressive for the structures created yet without being convoluted, and perhaps starting to feel the weight of age, they present a considerable number of mid-tempos, with an unusual slowness for the Florida band. The lyrics are sublime because in the Death of 1995 sarcasm and provocation have replaced the gore of the past, with the standout duo "Empty Words," which emphasizes the falseness of certain promises — indeed empty — and the condemnation of religious fanaticism in "Crystal Mountains." The sparks of "Symbolic" are almost perfect, representing one of the last vestiges of a band that has always enjoyed growing alongside its audience. I join those who express regret for having discovered them too late.

I honestly didn't appreciate some stylistic turns (from Within Temptation to the latest Tristania), but I really liked some, such as the bistratto Musique by Tot, which I enjoyed much more than the renowned, lackluster, and disappointing returns to origins like Storm and Forever Is The World. They, who brought credibility and elevated Gothic Metal to its highest levels, had announced major changes after the release of Aegis. But no one could have imagined such a visceral change in sound, form, intentions, and imagery, creating divisions worthy of Guelfs and Ghibellines, bringing a fresh breeze of new ideas, even though paradoxically the seeds of these were already contained in "Aegis," which was already ahead and danceable. The TOT don't like to play it simple; they often use rock guitars and, while still present, mix industrial, electronic, and very experimental elements over a very pop melodic base, close to certain things created by Kraftwerk and their old spaceship. Initial expectations are completely overturned: With the arrival of the 2000s, aware of the many changes occurring in our society, they abandon arcane and romantic themes, focusing on the interaction between man and machine, like cybernetic loves, and futuristic themes that celebrate speed but also highlight fear concerning such radical changes. There’s also a vocal change, with Raynard adopting robotic tones while Liv, showing a very bold personality, delivers a sweet and sensual performance that rivals that of Kylie Minogue! It's incredible how the change in sound didn't affect the band's value; amid samples and rhythmic bases, the class remains the same: Tracks like the captivating title track, the subtle excursions of Retrospect, the wrenching "Space Age," and the unstoppable mechanization of "Crash- Concrete" are typical moments of a work that, standing in opposition to the transparent "Aegis," maintains the same high-quality standards and allure. This is admirable. And with subsequent more conventional albums, the atmosphere will break.

Very late, but one of the most painful things I've ever heard.

Finally, I listened to "Queen Of Light" and honestly, especially after a debut that was anything but interesting, for which I didn't have high expectations, and if I have to be sincere, I liked it a lot. In fact, it's been over two years since I've listened to a new band with a score close to 7.5 in Symphonic Metal with female vocals, and I still don't understand the low ratings assigned by some webzines. But then again, they give sparkling scores to Delain (and no offense, but they are the most overrated band in the genre), so I continue to have some doubts about that. The CD is of good value, even if it's not without some minor flaws, such as in the future, I would appreciate heavier and more robust guitars, and occasionally, Helena's trills seem exaggerated. For the rest, the Symphonic Power of Imperia, which maintains a constant engagement throughout its long duration—a rare trait nowadays—does not stray far from Nightwish and After, but these influences are enriched with Arabesque, folk, medieval, ethnic, and baroque elements. A strong round of applause goes to Helena, the cornerstone, with her versatile and intense interpretation, which at times is reminiscent of Floor, even though the former voice of Trails Of Tears is certainly no newcomer. "Queen Of Light," which celebrates life and nature, lacks gloom and sadness, but shows itself to be sparkling and warm, epic and theatrical, and above all has the rare virtue of growing with each listen. In conclusion, it's a mature and nearly successful album that I recommend to all fans of the genre, featuring peaks like the fantastic "Abyssum," the intimacy of "Braveheart," and the murky green of "Fata Morgana."