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Rating: Close your eyes for a while, relax, and with this masterpiece, all the negatives fade away.
Anyone who thought that Arcturus's "La Masquerade Infernale" was the highest point ever reached in avantgarde metal will have to stop and think after listening to Maudlin Of The Well and this splendid "Bath". The genre's interpretation is completely different, but it is true that MOTW, in this case, reach the true meaning of the concept of art by producing an absolutely unrepeatable album, but let's take a step back.
The band's first core (now under the moniker Kayo Dot) was formed in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1996, and after three years of experience and demos, they released their first EP on the market. Within two more years, in 2001, the product at the center of this review was released, which manages to cradle and delight the listener with its atmospheres, now calm and gentle, dreamy and relaxing, now violent and harsh. Musically, this "Bath" includes various musical currents such as jazz, progressive, and death metal, all blended with great grace and elegance.
The album opens with almost eight minutes of "The Blue Ghost/Shedding Qliphoth", an instrumental piece in which the band enjoys offering a progressive jazz close in some respects to what had already been heard in Italy in the '70s with Perigeo: we thus find light classical guitar arpeggios accompanied by the gentle trumpet notes of Jason. Midway, the track transforms into a sort of progressive rock with an extremely slowed-down rhythmic base that once again brings fusion to mind, eventually unfolding into the typical progressive metal of our years, stripped of unnecessary frills that would only make the song heavier. "They Aren’t All Beautiful" brings us back to earth, decidedly closer to death than prog, showing a band capable of baring its claws at the right moment: now, you will be overwhelmed by piercing guitar riffs, now by double bass drum outbursts, all in service of a deep and violent growl, but never excessive. Despite their wilder roots, these Americans do not abandon the construction of extremely complex bases even here, thus complementing the already presented elements with solos closer to technical metal than extreme, the true root of the band.
"Heaven And Weak" is another crucial piece of the album, allowing the elements encountered thus far to coexist within the same track. If jazz makes its appearance in the first part, it later transforms first into progressive metal and then into something closer to the milder moments of Opeth, all reworked personally. Excellent work by the rhythm section, which proves, particularly in this case, even more dynamic and imaginative.
(Interlude 1) represents the second instrumental of the album (another will follow later) and is nothing more than a brief piece for guitar and bass that, although not adding much to the LP, remains extremely pleasant and atmospheric. From here, a dark organ carpet opens "The Ferryman", a true musical delirium. The dark intro is followed by very relaxing and delicate guitar moments that explode into outbursts between black and death, only to return to more progressive territories.
"Marid's Gift Of Art" connects to the acoustic and extremely calm music already present in the first track, where the vocal interpretation is notably praiseworthy for its expressiveness and sweetness. Sweet notes of the clarinet now introduce us to "Girl With A Watering Can", where melodic variations are encountered once again, alternating relaxed and angry atmospheres. The female voice of Maria-Stella, delicate and almost understated, but at the same time captivating, makes its appearance here. I find this track particularly important as it seems to have influenced a large number of bands over time, as echoes can be found in bands such as Aghora, Atrox, To-Mera, and similar. We move to jazz-infused hardcore with death/black undertones in "Birth Pains Of Astral Projection", ideally divisible into two sub-episodes, the first very slow and almost instrumental, except for some vocal lines. Midway through the song, the atmosphere changes with the appearance of growls, decidedly more powerful and structured riffs, and a rhythmic section featuring a strong and pulsating double bass drum.
To lighten the atmosphere after "Birth...", the Metheny-influenced jazz of "(Interlude II)" leads us into the last 5 minutes of the album with "Geography", a docile prog rock piece that takes a sharp turn towards the end, concluding one of the best avantgarde albums of the last eight years.
Apologies for the "sensationalism" evident in this review, but to not give this album the honors it deserves would be completely wrong and petty. Enjoy listening.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
03 Heaven and Weak (07:42)
I am a swan's wing, bloodied at the joint
and pasted to a boy's back, like in that story
You waved to me from a mountain as I slipped away
Dimming into rust-lit winters with a burning apple branch.
Who are you that darkness my shade? You burned my door down.
Don't wait for me, because you're a liar
And each time you dream in colour, I'll be holding your head under
Who took my time away? I know you'll hear me now
I know you'll hear me now...You missed your way out!
I thought I had it all
When I was left in shame, I gained even more!
You will welter on your hurried path with me as a prince to the world
All the beauty that is all of Life shall walk with me,
And you shall walk alone...in shame!
Dry as a bone withered and cold stuck with a dagger again behold me for I am centuries old cut on the lips by secretive men
terror I watch you nervous slowly insert the dagger again twisting the furnace walls gripping my breast writhing in want
smothered within your heavenly haunt cut on the lips by secretive men slowly insert the dagger again.
05 The Ferryman (07:50)
Portitor has horrendus aquas et flumina servat
terribili squalore Charon, cui plurima mento
canities inculta jacet, stant lumina flamma,
sordidus ex umeris nodo dependet amictus
Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram
perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna
quale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna
est eiter in silvis, ubi caelum condidit umbra
Juppiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem
"Sic demum lucos Stygis et regna invia vivis aspicies..."
"Anchisa generate deum certissimia proles,
Cocyti stagna alta vides Stygiamque paludem.
di cujus jurare timent et fallere numen."
Nec plura his. Ille admirans venerabile donum
fatalis virgae longo post tempore visum
caeruleam advertit puppim ripaeque propinquat.
Watching over these waves and streams of filth is the
horrible ferryman Charon, on whose chin countless unkept
grey hairs lie outspread; his eyes endure in flame, and
a squalid cloak hangs knotted from his shoulders.
Beneath lonely darkness the gloomy travellers go through shadow
and through the deserted abodes and ghostly kingdom of Dis:
through uncertain moonlight under rays of a spiteful sort the way
lies in the woods, where Jupiter hides the sky in shadow and
night steals colour from the black heavens.
"In this manner you will at last behold the sacred grove of Styx
and the kingdom pathless to the living..."
"Child of Anchises, most certain prodigy of a god, you will see
the deep mere of the mournful river of Hades and the swamp of
Styx, whose divine power the gods fear to swear by and prove false."
Nothing more was said. Wondering at the venerable offering of the
fated branch, seen after a distant time, he turned the vessel to
the darkness and the shores approached.
07 Girl With a Watering Can (08:44)
I squandered my youth for a wither'd (bitter) hour;
All I ever wanted was a simple you.
Real love is dying for a phantasy.
I held all of Heaven dead in my arms,
And in one moment, I knew all of Hell.
Nothing but a body, naked, beaten,
The wreck of a soul, amidst thorns bleeding.
Bitterness is all God hath created;
A proud king among the failures of dreams.
I believe one love could be worth a life,
For life I would have burn'd myself away--
For nothing, life hath left me burning alone.
Girl, know that time leaves dust on my scars;
When the moment has pass'd, thousands will die.
I will remember when ghosts were mighty,
And I will laugh and catch my own tears.
In a perfect garden, all flowers flourish,
In this real garden, my flower knows thirst.
I don't think I can lift my face to the sun again.
I don't think I can look at your face again
And feel.
You were my everything, and you took
It all away.
08 Birth Pains of Astral Projection (10:34)
I can almost see shimmering faery
As I recline on moss
But there isn't enough primrose
There are only wishes in
A hidden forest
I can almost see ghosts
As I shiver on icy floorboards
But Amelia is asleep in winter
There are only prayers
In a secret house
I was lost by the wayside
Amidst the groans of a tired time
There is nothing for me here
The tales of the flute by the fire
A stroll through a sombre evening
Smoke enticing from their pipes...pipes
And the honourable visions
of a pulseless mind
Death comes in an instant
If you like
But Amelia may be waking soon
When I sleep, I can't pull myself away,
Yet
But I know there are mansions out there,
Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,
Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,
...Maybe this is a clue.
I'd never been washed ashore
Or seen the droll night before
My body vanished
I hovered in the concourse
Of the court of thousands
Of yellow asphodel
It hurts remembering the fragance of Heaven.
We lived in the rowans, avoiding mad water
Spoiling our children with tea and mushrooms
Early in the autumn as we slept by the oven
Someone sent a shape who tore the house apart.
Our bond was shattered, I was drawn away
I was caught praying in the shade.
Recently, I went back to my door
And breathed...
It was love filtered through yellow paraffin
We pushed with all our might
For you...
10 Geography (05:00)
Listening reveals his wounds
Voiceless, he kneels to you
Like a glinting dagger, one quick look
And he spills you
Sheets surrender you
And I expect trauma
Breath is real, anger's real
Sleep on your birthday and cry
Cry, my baby
Let me wash you
I have no ears for my lady...
Listen to me
You're called a silhouette
You're playful with a sin
But you see me
Speak, or stop, or kiss me
Your art is like your grin
It delivers me
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Other reviews
By The_Bassist
I was enchanted by those first seconds of natural harmonics arpeggio that open the album.
One of the least digestible albums I have listened to, but also one of those that have given me the most satisfaction.
By Hybris
Simply immersed in myself I forget time, death, and pain.
Impossible to describe with rational words.
