Opeth
Ghost Reveries

THE REVIEW

The damp embrace of autumn, a rain of hidden emotions, preciously kept among forests of ancient alders. Winds of solitude, painful whispers, elusive blonde curls of golden grace, silent days illuminated by cold and extinguished hearths.
The sparkling melancholy burns in the sounds of guitars with dark distortions, the caresses of keyboards in the darkness of November nights, and the acoustic kisses stolen from orgasmic summers.
A voice with absurd connotations tells sad stories that possess nothing of the mawkish. At times gutturally angry, it softens the boorish attitudes with tones between graceful and litany.
Overflowing symphonic openings give vent to the frantic beauty of delicate yet profoundly dark landscapes. Torn romanticism slithers among the contours of lands abandoned to pitiless cold while shadows fall on evenings lit by dim, soft lights.
The singer is alone, cries with piercing rage but simultaneously delights with notes of never forgotten purity, dragging us into the whirlwind of autumn breezes, towards silent parks where green grassy mantles mingle tears of sparkling frost into water mirrors with dark and muddy beds.
Metallic sounds slap harmonious melodious carpets softly velvety, preparing the wanderer for a long journey, a ride on the back of white colts with bronze manes. Manes like fluttering misty tongues announcing the arrival of the queen of wounded dreams and lost opportunities, a woman long yearned for and always elusive.
Her embrace opens the doors to the season of snowfalls, to the beauty of lands brilliantly suspended in the blinding whiteness of eternal glaciers.
A final ethereal sigh leads the traveler to the heart, to the center of a winter imbued with uncontrollable passions. Slowly, the source of tears extinguishes and the hair dries. "Ghost reveries" ends in silence.