"...Welcome to the mirrorland where we all
understand the time is now and around is just
memories and premises...".
Very little has been able to move me like Trilogy.
Regga premise. Beware of the Bock saga. Religion? Let's take it slow. Cult. (And here, atheists and agnostics from everywhere, prepare yourselves, you have found a challenge for your minds). In short. What is the ethical significance for Ior Bock? Simple. Knowledge, the meaning of life itself, is nothing more than a semiotic transmission of gestures, emotions, and sounds, and it is the advent of bureaucracy that denatures man of his Es, of his creative doing. It is antonymy, a fleetingness to his ability to be in symbiosis with the world.
Trilogy speaks of this existential concept directly and without too many subliminal mediations... It's a narrative key told by a fragile and controversial soul, that of Petri Walli (guitar and vocals), a prophetic soul and storyteller of Dionysian whispers, alchemist maximo (but all the people listed on the back cover truly exhibit the immense!) of the orchestra of perdition.
Our people bring this mystical concept to life in its most suitable expedient. It is a congeries of trance that breaks down all the cosmic and schematic barriers of the genre. It innovates because it lives only structurally the rock vein, now attempting to rise slowly among the bleakest and most emotionally touching shores of this "galactic pantheism" - "Alt Land Is" - now it is an extremely psychedelic karma - "Welcome To The Mirroland" - now it is a testament on universal generations- ("For All Mankind").
The concept, if you wish, degenerates the resonances of "The Wall," of which it is certainly the best epigone of the time, and even today. They are reverberations that, aided by the hypnotic alchemy of didgeridoo and jew's harp, sound like an extended mantra, addictive.
So what are you waiting for, sitting there? Take a trip to Scandinavia.
Leave the dragons, castles, and B.C. Rich to the hordes of the mainstream, delve into this ascetic niche. Quench your thirst at its source...
R.I.P. Petri.