Satyricon
Nemesis Divina

It was a gloomy and sad day, one of those days when not even "A Massacre of Stab Wounds" (those who know Cannibal Corpse will understand) could cheer me up: one of those days when Slipknot might seem like serious people, one of those days when buses in Turin were on time and construction works were ending, one of those days when mom hadn't burned anything while cooking. In short, it was a day that wasn't brutal at all. However, I still harbored the desire to hang the postman with the bathrobe belt, and I was just waiting for the sound of the doorbell: hours passed, and I continued to play with the bathrobe belt waiting for my victim to arrive... had he sensed something from the way I looked at him in the past days?

While I was racking my brain for an answer, the doorbell rang twice (and we all know the postman rings twice... just like in murder mysteries the culprit is always the butler), and I jumped to my feet, racing down the stairs; but just as I was about to grab him, I see he has in his hand a picture of a dead and burning chicken... Could it be an informational brochure from the Ministry about Avian flu? No, no, much better! It's "Nemesis Divina" by Satyricon, the record I had ordered after Glenn Benton and his Deicide emptied my bank account to pay the bail for the beasts of Satan.

This record didn't seem too brutal to me because on brutal records there's always something rotten and not just something dead. However, it could still be a Black record! And what's better than a Black day? Sunday In. Yes, but today (meaning that day) wasn't Sunday, and so I couldn't enjoy Zequila with his clothes borrowed from the cast of "Barry Lyndon" (or maybe from "Dangerous Liaisons", I don't remember) fighting with Pappalardo. The conclusion is that the best thing that could happen to me was a Black day.

With some preconceived notions, I put the bathrobe belt back in my pocket and returned home. "Nemesis Divina" could still change the fate of this day where everything was going smoothly... too smoothly (I swear, this line is not copied from some Sylvester Stallone movie)... And so the words of the good Max Gazzè came to mind singing "... Saving you on the brink of the precipice is what music can do..." do you remember that video where the plane was crashing and Max saved everyone with the stereo speakers? Yes yes, that one... it marked my childhood: as soon as I opened the CD, I immediately realized that Satyricon means business... there's 1 a photo of them on a blue background with halberds and axes in hand (they look like Satan's hockey team) and one in the middle who even has a human skull!!!! These are bad bad guys, I thought, and in the meantime, I pressed play "This is Armageddon" says the singer and immediately after, a vortex of tempestuous icy Norwegian evil storms blew out from the stereo speakers! Even Glenn Benton would have been frightened by the force of ice and cold that Satyricon knows how to create: Glenn yes, but mom no! In fact, she came and whacked me on the head with the wooden spoon (I brought this sentence to the attention of George Fisher: it seems he has a song in mind titled "Wooden Spoon Smashed Face").

It may not have been a Norwegian halberd forged by the elf "Elf", but it still hurt. There's nothing to do, mom is the most brutal of all. But this time I had to follow the word of the elf "Elf" and the fairy elf "Centurian Median" (any reference to the record label under which Satyricon records is PURELY COINCIDENTAL) so I de(cided) to continue listening, risking providing new material for the fertile imagination of Cannibal Corpse. The turn came for "Forhesketshjykst" (this song was initially meant to be the title for a Deicide record who then opted for "Insynerhtykmnjijhgf"). Beautifully stunning extreme icy cold dark windy. Satyricon are just as they are photographed: armed, bad, halberds, axes, in short, "horned and clubbed"... But that's not all! The CD still held an assorted range of Nordic battles with magic runes and ice knives, snow blades (which don't seem, but when enchanted with the curses of Dophjkyt, hurt a lot), windstorms, and snowmen... no, not those. The snowmen aren't Black at all... although looking at the corpse paint of Satyr and the others, one would say they absolutely are. The songs went on, and reading the booklet made me really want to speak in Latin: truthfully, I don't know Latin, but neither do they, so what difference does it make? So I started mumbling "Historia Magistra Vitae" and "Alea iacta est" and "Cartago delenda est" and "Oderint dum metuunt" and "Dulcis in fundo" and all these phrases here. Luckily it wasn't a record by Morbid Angels otherwise, I would have started speaking in Babylonian...

But the icy and snowy notes of Ice, Satyr, and Kveldulvfghjktyt (it scares me already just to name it) unleash in me the elfin passion of the malignant forests so that I pronounce the magic formulas of "Centurian Median" (the elf, of course) that go like this: jkhfbnmdywq and shjkjhden dom shjhj ghut, but above all $$$$$$$$$. At that point, I knew Centurian Median's formulas, and all I had to do was dress up as a snowman, take a Norwegian adamantium spear, a Nordic shield, maybe change my name to "Glacial Freezing Cold" or "Freezer Bosch" or "Ice Cream" (no, that's not Black enough) and take many photos dressed this way; then I could even make an album, maybe, and call it "O Tite Tute Tate Tibi Tanta Tiranne Tulisti," which is a Latin title with an ancient and mysterious aftertaste, very Black (no you didn't know, but behind the pseudonym of Ennio hides a forerunner of Euronymous).

Unfortunately, Satyricon doesn't dwell much on the lord Satan of darkness and evil, sire of sin and the eternal night that "led infinite grief to Christians... their bodies abandoned to dogs and birds as horrid feasts" (Glenn Benton, "Luciferiade," I, 2-5... ... ... it seems Glenn has a side project where he acts as a rhapsode): but after all, that's already thought of by Deicide, who in fifteen years of career have churned out fifteen masterpieces on these themes. Now some days have passed since that Black day, and I must say that "Nemesis Divina" was a successful purchase, the cherry on the cake, the cheese on the macaroni, and why not, a thorn in the side (this phrase was too Black, I couldn't omit it). In fact, this is an Olympic CD and is sponsored by McDonald®, San Paolo®, Coca-Cola®, and all those people Napalm Death takes issue with: in seven songs, it does nothing but talk about snow, ice, wind, and more or less sporting competitions. It seems Ghedina and Rocca have declared that "Nemesis Divina" is their good luck charm (and it shows!!!!) and that they found it at the Olympic Store in Piazza Vittorio.

(Don't) let it slip away, this CD will make you champions too!