L'Orchestre Noir
Eleven

"L'Orchestre Noir" is Tony Wakeford's symphonic project, the fertile mind behind Sol Invictus.

As of today, the discography of the Orchesta Nera consists of only two works: "Chantos", from 1997, and this "11", from 1998, which seems more inspired and better constructed than its predecessor.

Needless to say, the project is the result of the megalomania of an artist rather lacking in both technical and compositional skills: the good things Wakeford has managed to combine in his career (and there have been many good things!) seem to work more due to the passion the English author puts into his work, due to his visionary genius and his ability to evoke vivid and captivating atmospheres. L'Orchestre Noir is therefore the offspring of Wakeford's artistic talent, and carries with it the strengths and weaknesses of his art: weighed down and hindered by the limited compositional skills of the minstrel from across the Channel, this music shines with the charm of the tragic and decadent images that are the true trademark of the artist.

The project has its own raison d'être. After all, the music of Sol Invictus has also managed to increasingly incorporate neoclassical elements over time, thus emancipating itself from the sparse folk of its beginnings still tainted by industrial temptations. So why not exaggerate it all and definitively emancipate from "popular rock" music? Purge its message of the hateful last traces of modernity? And through this path achieve the Absolute?

And so, aided by the faithful Eric Roger (already a member of Sol Invictus), called upon to assist with arrangement and recording, Wakeford surrounds himself with a respectable chamber ensemble composed of strictly French musicians. Wakeford's touch is evident, his presence remains imposing, even if his involvement is limited to performing the acoustic bass parts and sporadic vocal appearances, which, along with those of Roger himself and the angelic Sowina, enrich the heartbreaking evolutions of the Black Orchestra.

The themes addressed are those typical of Sol Invictus: full of quotations from Albert Camus, Rosa Luxemburg, Ezra Pound, "11" aims to outline the contours of an era of pure decadence, characterized by the fall of the Soviet bloc and the consequent supremacy of the American empire. "Europe's children had better wake up to the fact that some old demons are still with us and could drag us into an abyss of barbarism. Europa - Unite or Die.": this is Wakeford's warning, the assertion of a cultural identity, of belonging to a Europe divided by internal wars and unbridgeable fractures, which risks disappearing crushed by now uncontrollable dynamics. Hence the appeal to the "children of Europe" to awaken from lethargy, unite and counter the era of barbarism we are living in. On the brink of fanatical extremism, Wakeford orchestrates a grand musical journey that speaks the tragic, epic, heroic language of operatic music shrouded in dark apocalyptic echoes, but which ultimately cannot resist certain solutions unearthed from the artist's mother creature, particularly from his solo albums ("La Croix" and "Cupid & Death") where the symphonic inclinations already perceived find complete and definitive expression.

The album retains the circular structure of Sol Invictus albums, opened and closed respectively by "Eleven-Dawn" and "Eleven-Dusk". The first is supported by the organ, propelled by the martial pace of the percussion and the thundering statements from Wakeford's megaphone voice; the second is driven by the acoustic guitar and vocal interweavings, male and female, that echo the text of the first. Wakeford's ramshackle orchestra marches irresistibly, alternating strong moments with more evocative passages, impetuous crescendos with inquisitorial tones, and states of mystical psychedelia (note the harp parts and female spoken word), always maintaining the murky, militant soul of the burly bard. The strings drive, the winds slash, the percussion rumbles, while tenors and sopranos duet in a sort of "Magic Flute" of Evil. The insertion of sampled voices, the obsessive pounding of the drums, and the concentric, whirling repetition of certain string sections end up staining the "industrial" nature of a work that, while aspiring to the nobility of classical music, ultimately bears the unmistakable hallmark of an artist from the apocalyptic folk and industrial background.

I have never particularly loved this project of Wakeford, hampered by a compositional inability clearly not up to the ambition. Certain passages unfortunately remain overly sweet, certain melodies childish in their predictability, and yet, like every work marked by the artistic flair of maestro Wakeford, "11" knows how to fascinate and involve in multiple moments, as well as generate visions in the listener's mind that have the contours of Immensity.

Only for fans.