•
Rating: What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. But each of us, whatever heap of secrets we may be, needs a little break every now and then. A palliative. A relaxed moment of true enjoyment. And I, a poor pockmarked fool who shuns the sunlight, must admit that I am no exception. There are days when, after demolishing my ears and neurons with loads of good quality Grindcore and Brutal Death Metal, I feel the urge to lie on my bed of rotting limbs, gaze at the pitch-black night, and smoke a cigar, relaxing my old bleeding eardrums. With Death Doom Metal I am sure not to go wrong: a genre that can satisfy my palate without forsaking a nocturnal and sepulchral flavor.
And just last night, I chose once again an album held together with Lucifer's glue, having listened to it over and over in these past months: "Medusa", the latest creation from the great Paradise Lost.
MEDUSA: one of the most unsettling figures in Greek mythology. Ready to turn to stone anyone who dares to look her in the eyes. Exactly the same thing happened to the present Excreted; Alive will talk about the album later.
I was petrified with joy from the very first listen, from the first, eternal track "Fearless Sky." Introduced by a synth followed by a riff reminiscent Winter, it's an eight-minute strike of raw, funereal heaviness that harks back to the band's distant past of Nick, Aaron, Gregor, and Stephen: it's still the four of them, along with good Waltteri, delighting us with a gloomy and icy modus operandi. After thirty years of career still together, still united. On the brink of turning fifty, they produce one of their best albums; I have no problem proclaiming what I have just written.
I only had one doubt at the time of purchase, in a remote hole in Milan: the production entrusted to the German label Nuclear Blast; but this time I had to change my mind. The sounds are leaden, dense, sickly: an impenetrable mixture, even more so than the previous "The Plague Within." With Nick’s voice still able to scratch properly thanks especially to a sumptuous growl approach in the singing.
There is no innovation, they risk nothing. They know what they want to compose and then play: tons of monstrous, epic, violent, alluring riffs. A chilling show of strength, as in the final "Until The Grave": it's easy to imagine the themes dealt with in the lyrics from the title of the song. A difficult work, to be absorbed and nurtured with patience and determination, where it ranges from the almost pure death of "No Passage For The Dead" to a song that blatantly recalls the legendary Type O Negative like "The Longest Winter," passing through certain Cathedral songs.
They unleash their best in the title track, which opens with slow keyboard notes; Nick’s voice for once puts aside the tormented and horrendous growl to approach a declamatory and clean singing. But the music remains evocative, slow, asphyxiating; and then, suddenly, the growl reappears, alternating masterfully with more human vocal lines. Keyboards again act as a prelude to the last part of the song, to the last two catacomb-like minutes.
The gates of Hell open wide, and everything is consumed... TERRIFYING...
I can sleep soundly now: with Gregor and his band to cradle my psychotic dreams, I have nothing to fear.
Tracklist
Loading comments slowly
