Paul Chain
Alkahest

It is now a well-established practice to retrace the history of Paul Chain whenever we are called upon to describe one of his works. For once, however, I believe it's preferable to focus on the intrinsic value of an album that can rightfully be defined as the formal masterpiece of the prolific artist from Pesaro.

“Alkahest”, released in 1995, is also the most renowned work of his solo career, especially for the presence behind the microphone of the vitriolic vocals of Lee Dorrian, the formidable voice of the English doomsters Cathedral, who have always been fervent admirers of the National Paolone, a figure of undeniable weight in the economy of the entire post-Sabbathian doom-metal movement.

“Alkahest” carries within it all the magic of the artistic vision of a musical alchemist like Chain: we are talking about a classic well-crafted doom-metal, obviously nourished by archaic and esoteric suggestions, and by the picturesque visions that have always plagued the path of a free artist, outside the box since the founding of the historic Death'SS in 1977, devoted to the cause of music that emerges from the heart and knows how to move with class and expertise regardless of the form it takes (whether it's heavy metal, psychedelic experiments, occult music, or progressive rock).

A fervent supporter of the improvisation gospel, Paul Chain manages in this context to create rock-solid and imaginative compositions without dispersing ideas and solutions (as happens in his other works that we might define as more “free”), remaining adherent to the rigor and classical form of the 1970s Sabbathian doom-metal, clothing it with a clear and up-to-date production.

The impulses towards improvisation are here relegated mainly to the admirable solo parts of an always inspired guitar, and more generally in the vocal lines that unfold, as always, in phonemes invented by Chain himself that correspond to no existing language (even if the senseless words are clearly inspired by the English language). For the rest, the songs move confidently on solid tracks: tracks of structures, although simple, yet well-conceived, crafted by capable musicians precise in execution.

The first portion of the album presents a succession of compositions with faster tempos and others with a slower and more solemn pace, as every true doom album demands. In this first phase, the vocals of Chain settle on a falsetto that to me calls to mind the king of Canterbury, Robert Wyatt: an admittedly daring association, but one that well conveys the idea that Chain’s voice is not the typical gritty, aggressive voice of the metal universe. And while on the one hand, we can see in this the true weak point of the work, at the same time it is undeniable that Chain's sly and pataphysical singing produces a disorienting effect in the listener, cloaking the work in a peculiar charm. Of these first five pieces, all of excellent quality, I certainly point out the third track “Sand Glass”, characterized by the enveloping melodic embellishments of the guitar and keyboards, which, well-measured, season the entire guitar structure of the album. Indeed, it is worth adding that in the visionary keyboard scores, unraveling elemental but never banal symphonies, vaguely echoing the 1970s progressive rock, Chain finds his ideal dimension: his keyboard flights are, in fact, even more personal than his always derivative and tributary guitar playing from the art of His Majesty Tony Iommi.

It is my intention, however, to focus attention on the last four tracks: a work within the work, a masterpiece within the masterpiece, with the protagonist being the vocal charisma of the ever-excellent Lee Dorrian. His inevitably charismatic performance, his intrinsically theatrical flair that makes the artist one of the best voices ever in the doom-metal field, helps us understand what kind of masterpiece we would have had in our hands if Dorrian's bewitched voice had marked the tracks of this album from start to finish.

The four tracks constitute the perfect vademecum for anyone willing to venture into the formidable realms of doom-metal:

1. the powerful and Death'SS-like “Voyage to Hell”, a pachydermic ride with cutting guitars and vigorous groove that, for the peculiar vocal performance, takes us directly to the Cathedral albums of those years (although, let's remember, Dorrian on more than one occasion will state that the collaboration with Paul Chain will significantly influence the course of his band, henceforth oriented towards a more lively and visionary metal, increasingly distant from the suffocating and distressing extra-doom excursions of the origins);

2. the apocalyptic “Static End”, heaviness turned to music, a murky descent into Hell amidst ungraceful rasps, biblical recitals, and majestic keyboards;

3. the ethereal “Lake Without Water”, a dreamlike acoustic ballad that recovers the more properly progressive impulses of Chain and at the same time offers us one of Dorrian's best interpretations, who for the occasion sheds the attire of the mad preacher to rest in extraordinarily clean and velvety tones;

4. the monumental “Sepulchral Life”, the doom song par excellence, ten minutes of guitar and vocal exhaustion, with a central acceleration and subsequent relapse into the depths of a murky river of fading crackling feedback.

Having said this, all that's left is to surrender and succumb to the notes of what we could define as a fundamental chapter for the entire genre, born from the mind and hands of what we could in turn define as the greatest artist that our land has ever produced in the heavy-metal field.

“In the theatre of yellow and violet

We are like actors playing roles

Written by obscures entities”