Kid: "MOM amazing!!! They are like MTV have you seen the Opeth? will you buy me the CD?"
Mom: "BUT? are those the ones who sing with the monster voice?"
Kid: "And I'll do the homework... afterwards"
Maybe I exaggerated, but something is changing in Opeth, and in a few years this little scene might make an appearance in many Italian homes.
Many like me, die-hard Opeth fans, were eagerly awaiting this new work...
We put the CD in the player and think of something to write.
A consideration must be made after the first full listen: the tributes Opeth made on this CD to Tool (just listen to "Ghost of Perdition" to find yourself in "Lateralus", try putting "The Grudge", they sound like songs written together), and to early Dream Theater works ("The Baying of The Hounds" and “Beneath The Mire“ above all) is too much, and not justified. I want to listen to Opeth, their music, not "covers" (pardon the strong word).
Surely a fan shudders...
If this "effort" had been crafted by some small band, some beginners, it would have certainly been a great work, 5/5 stars so to speak, but I must be honest, something's off, the toy might be broken.
I don't want now to open a debate as it happened with Metallica and Dream Theater at every one of their works, at every change of direction, but the CD doesn't inspire. To define it in a few words: Predictable, already heard, nothing new.
A positive note is the truly excellent production, superior to that of "Still Life".
Ladies and gentlemen, OPETH are the ones from "Blackwater Park" and "Morningrise", they can't do this, I personally do not feel satisfied with their new work, and I DEMAND something different, something that surprises me.
But maybe they've already said it all, and then, unfortunately, we will have to settle for it.
Opeth’s new emanation stands as one of their absolute best releases, and perhaps as THE album of the year 2005.
Make it yours, whatever your musical background may be. You will not regret it.
Opeth have finished climbing the peak and are now on a slight downward slope.
The album starts off terribly, rises significantly in the middle, then falls again at the end to leave a closing hope.
Paradoxically, after only two songs, your skin already starts to quiver: you look around, search for glances that aren’t there, hear footsteps among the gray shadows.
It is undoubtedly heterogeneous yet profoundly logical, it’s a haunted cell after an hour of freedom, a spectral moon after a sunny day.
The sparkling melancholy burns in the sounds of guitars with dark distortions, the caresses of keyboards in the darkness of November nights.
The singer is alone, cries with piercing rage but simultaneously delights with notes of never forgotten purity.