L-Xiii
Obsidian

The mountains of Engadin stand far away, yet if you stretch out a hand you can almost touch them. The snow is soft, it must have stopped snowing recently, and although it's cold, the impending golden dawn envelops the entire valley, giving it an almost unnatural warmth. Giovanni wanders aimlessly, simply seeking peace and inspiration for his next painting: one step after another, he's not even aware of where he's going, lost as he is in his thoughts: he won't lose the way home, he's sure of that, he knows those places all too well. Suddenly, an unusual creak interrupts his musings, and he lifts his gaze to an incredible sight.
Lost in the seemingly endless and cold alpine expanse, there is a tree, dry, skeletal, reaching upward as if trying to tear out its own roots. An extension of a branch divides into thousands of appendages, which wrap around a woman up to her waist, leaving only the upper part of her torso free, like tentacles. The woman, of rare and intangible beauty, has a flowing red mane all twisted around the tree's trunk, to the point where it's hard to tell if it's hair or twigs; her eyes are closed but she is not dead, merely lying as if asleep. Her bare chest nourishes the head of a newborn, sprouting from a branch like a flower blooming from its plant.
Giovanni is petrified by the spectral vision before his eyes. Who is the woman? Who has begotten whom? Is there perhaps a punishment in all of this, could it be a chastisement for bad mothers? Perhaps he has only stumbled upon an intimate moment of Nature, a moment in which Mother Nature, personified as a woman, nourishes the dry tree that is being reborn like a child, awakening from the cold winter. Giovanni will never have the answer to these questions: as he steps closer to the woman, a sunbeam, just then rising, blinds him for a moment: he rubs his eyes, and when he reopens them, the woman is gone, as is the child. The tree remains, yes, but as he approaches, he realizes it is not as dry and skeletal as it appeared from afar; there are tiny buds on its bony branches.
Behind the moniker L-XIII hides Neil DeRosa, one of the two members of the Americans (from Salem, New England) 1476. This project, from a purely musical standpoint, harkens back to "Edgar Allan Poe: A Life of Hope & Despair," a work by the aforementioned duo inspired by the author's life. The present "Obsidian" draws from the same mournful, pensive, and vaguely dark sonorities to venture into greater introspection, almost a kind of inner occult ritual, a moment of peace where, far from the influence of what's around you, you can focus on yourself and work on your needs. Entirely instrumental, this (alas) short EP highlights (so to speak, given the darkness enveloping the pieces!) Neil's excellent expressive and communicative abilities, immersing the listener in a rarefied, magical, mysterious, and evocative atmosphere. Synth, drone, atmospheric passages flirting with the most sophisticated and ethereal Dark ambient, a strong presence of piano, even elements akin to nocturnal and urban trip hop, make this "Obsidian" an intriguing and fascinating work. As mentioned, it might be a bit too short (after all, it's still an EP), but it can serve both as an excellent appetizer for possible future releases by L-XIII and as a prelude to what can be heard in the aforementioned work about E. A. Poe by the 1476 duo. Worth trying, especially when you're in need of a bit of peace and tranquility.