Enisum
Samoht Nara

Visualize vast wilderness.

One day, the Moose Goddess came to life from the roots of an old tree cut down by the human obsession to build more and more buildings, removing the vital space from forests. The fog condensed around the decaying leaves resting on the ground, which immediately came back to life and color at her passage, turning a bright green and animating as if pushed by a gentle wind; the buried roots re-emerged, intertwined, rose towards the sky, and from them, the Goddess regenerated. Anthropomorphic, with the head of a Moose, she gathered from the ground the skulls of three animals that had been left there to die, poisoned by the waste from factories not too far away, and at her touch, they became Wolf, Deer, and Fox, messengers of Nature's awakening embodied in the Goddess's body.
The Goddess looked at them with satisfaction, and only with her gaze did the three animals understand what their task would be: the four turned towards the city, towards the lights and chimneys, and with slow steps headed towards mankind. Every step they took sprouted a plant, where they placed feet or paws, flowers, leaves, fruits, and roots came back to life, and with a gust of wind, they spewed towards the sky the toxins and poisons they had absorbed until that moment, thus regaining life and strength. At the city's edge, the Goddess stopped, placed her hands on the ground, and from them generated two tremors that split the factories they found on their path in two, swallowing tie-wearing managers and wealthy industrialists who, despite the late hour, had remained within the buildings to count their money tainted with oil and poison. From the craters that formed, plants, roots, and trees emerged, continuing the work by entwining everything that had suffocated their existence up to that point, reclaiming spaces that were theirs.
The people, frightened, ran into the streets: an apocalypse was erupting around them, and no prayer or faith could stop their fears. Then the thick wall of trees opened up, and from them emerged the Goddess and her three emissaries. No one dared say a word, among the men some bowed, some cried, some fled, some nodded: yet everyone suddenly understood what was happening, they immediately became aware of their guilt that had forced Nature to take back by force what had been taken from it. The Moose fixed a point in the crowd, but it was as if every person felt scrutinized in their soul, naked like a worm and confronted with their own guilt.
Then the three messengers crouched down, the Goddess raised her arms, and a warm swirl of leaves enveloped all the people, hiding them for a moment: when the dust raised by this wind settled, everyone was asleep, and there was no longer any trace of Wolf, Deer, and Fox, and even the anthropomorphic Moose had disappeared.
Dawn and the sun surprised the people as they slept on the ground, curled up like cats: when they opened their eyes, the factories, the houses, everything was there, where they had left them. They looked into each other's eyes, and understood they had the same terrible dream. Then the factory doors opened, and out came the managers and industrialists, pale, sweaty, and wide-eyed, as if they had just returned from the land of the dead: mute, in unison, they all made the same gesture, immediately deactivating the generators of their factories, and as if in a trance, they sat on the ground staring at the sky, bewildered. The drills stopped, the pumps ceased their work, and the dense smoke that had risen from the chimneys until that moment came to a halt; a fresh morning breeze dispersed the little smoke still remaining in the sky.
Then all of them, as if called by a voice in their heads, walked towards the nearby forest, reaching a clearing: on the ground, three animal skulls—of a wolf, a deer, and a fox—and a white woman’s dress hanging from a branch of an old tree trunk. The men collected these items, buried them in the clearing, prayed each in their own language and according to their own faith, and returned to their homes still a little confused, but with the deep, dark, and sad eyes of that strange Moose, which during the dream of that night had peered deep into their hearts, etched in their minds.

Enisum, a peculiar moniker that, when read backward, reveals the region of the group's origin, namely Mount Musinè, in the Graian Alps, in Val di Susa. The band (initially a solo project, later expanded to include other members) is now not too discreetly inspired by the “Cascadian” scene, that segment of atmospheric black metal primarily associated with the USA – North West of which much has been spoken. Specifically, for those familiar with the bands in that scene, the references are clear, primarily to Alda (especially for the melodic sense of this group), but also Addaura and Avakr (when the band steps on the accelerator); however, I wouldn’t bring up Fauna or Wolves in the Throne Room, as I don’t find that sense of tribalism and “ritual” that permeates these two groups. Finally, when our People give space to the acoustic sections, the typical neofolk parentheses put in place by many Cascadian ensembles are very strong references (the same Alda, for instance, but also and especially Agalloch). In general, therefore, it might seem a highly derivative group, yet their proposal fascinates and captivates the listener’s attention for the entire duration of the record (about 45 minutes): the acid scream (perhaps a bit too strangled, at least on record) of Lys (also guitar) perfectly blends with the melodic frameworks woven by the six strings, while the rhythm section appears prepared, essential, and very effective in creating crescendos where atmosphere and pathos culminate in admittedly predictable outbursts (the genre has now been codified, there’s not much to do), but not for this reason any less enjoyable. An additional curiosity, the lyrics are in the local dialect, dealing mainly with the relationship between man and nature and the description of the spaces characterizing the valley from which the group originates.
Playing "Cascadian" is not easy: though theoretically simple, this genre, if put into practice, may risk sounding fake, contrived, a carbon copy of already-heard records. This is because, as mentioned, there are now many groups playing boasting influences of this type, and the recipe is well known: combining a black metal approach as if it were post-rock with rhythms now cold and furious (as per the Norwegian school), now slower, and always alternated with more atmospheric parts, seasoning everything with themes centered on nature. Enisum follows this modus operandi to the letter but sounds authentic; they could almost pass off as a group from Washington or British Columbia, and no one would notice: this is because, in addition to excellent and undeniable technical skills, they combine a knack for making music with heart, perfectly translating into music the images of the places from which they come.
The Italian answer to Alda, then? Not yet, there are still some small uncertainties that undermine the record, some drops in tone, and sometimes moments a bit disjointed and less impactful, but in general, the proposal is excellent, and if it gets the visibility it deserves (and the group can confirm and improve itself), even Italian metal could boast a representative of its own “cascadian black metal” scene, at least musically.