NON
Children Of The Black Sun

"Children of the Black Sun", released in 2002, is an atypical episode within the NoN-branded production, perhaps because it's the only one you can actually listen to!

The non-music of Boyd Rice, a pioneer of the most uncompromising harsh-noise, active since the mid-seventies, is tinged for the occasion with the dark hues of an author's dark-ambient, managing the intent of being more digestible than usual.

Furthermore, to the delight of all those who are not crazy about his narrating voice (in terms of musical usability and regarding the lyrical content, not always agreeable), the good Rice, someone who loves to define himself as a cross between Adolf Hitler and Bambi, for once keeps quiet, leaving the word to his machines. And for that, we are grateful.

"There is a black sun that is not visible to the human eye: it is our beacon and its fire burns within us." This is the enigmatic phrase introducing us to the concept of the album, centered on a series of myths and legends from antiquity focusing on the idea of a legendary underground world, a place of death but also of resurrection: Arka, the realm where Cain is exiled, and from where he prepares to reemerge as Rex Mundi; the king, at whose death the sun becomes black, who descends underground upon death to rise three days later as a god; the sun, seen as a serpent encircling the earth, that at sunset enters the underground to be reborn at the dawn of the next day; the underground river, which since antediluvian times represents knowledge and wisdom, constituting the world's pulsating artery; the Fountain of Destiny, whose water has magical and regenerative powers for those daring enough to reach it and drink a cup. The album itself constitutes a descent into the underground, a transfer into the darkest places of our soul, a spiritual journey aimed at finding new energy, the black fire that burns within us (oh, old Rice, you never fail to deliver, do you?)

NoN's music is a metaphysical drill relentlessly digging into the underground: the sonic manipulations, noise effects, and swirling drones are a furious vortex dragging us into a slow yet inexorable descent into the Underworld, a journey with unpredictable calm and introspective tones that we would never expect from Rice, being used to quite different treatments. Not even a shadow of melody, the purists can rest easy, yet the album flows without significant trauma (well, it lasts barely half an hour, which helps!), the tracks fade into one another, letting the listener be guided through various scenarios, as if laid on a small boat plowing through a raging underground river. If Rice's approximate sound experiments have never shone for genius and inspiration, sounding rather like provocation for its own sake, or at best as the right chaotic background for apocalyptic narratives and the declamatory style of the crazy sound terrorist, this time the result is not bad at all, and everything seems to proceed orderly and according to a clear poetic intent. Without losing the particular trademark characterizing the project.

The atmospheres become less violent and caustic, and the sounds blend homogeneously and almost sweetly (forgive me the term!), alternating in a context of "static-dynamic" that generates tension, fear, and a sense of impending threat.

The usual trenches and end-of-the-world atmospheres here take on a spiritual and esoteric halo: the organ endlessly extending the same chord, the undulating movement of sounds in a loop, the restless winds panting in the background, the hypnotic trance of strings distorted to the point of exhaustion, tapes accelerated beyond belief, swirling plays of echoes and reverbs, menacing orchestrations, and angelic choirs, the waves of an underground river and the crackling of a fire, until the pompous finale marking the arrival at the coveted destination, the Black Sun, and where a voice played in reverse leaves us with an enigmatic subliminal message.

For the record, the album is produced by Bob Ferbreche (Blood Axis), and somewhere (I couldn't tell you exactly where) appears the violin of Albin Julius (Der Blutharsch). The CD is also accompanied by a DVD, but it's as if it weren't there, considering that throughout its duration the cover of the album is reproduced in a freeze-frame, just to emphasize the artistic scope of the project.

So, what to do? Is it worth spending half an hour of your life on such stuff? In my opinion, yes, first of all because it's the right album for those who want to get to know the NoN entity without losing their hearing (for those who care, "Blood and Flame", "Might!", and "God and Beast" are instead recommended). Documentary ambitions aside, with the right attitude and the right desire to harm oneself, even this "Children of the Black Sun" can give you satisfaction, especially if you're drunk and in a slumber. I listened to it once after a colossal drunk and it felt like having a fleet of helicopters over my head. But they were calm helicopters, they didn't want to bomb me, they were just up there.

To endure, and possibly support.