Shaman
Ritual

THE REVIEW

Shaman - "Ritual" 2002

Outdoors in the garden at home. It's seven-thirty in the evening, there's a wonderful temperature: those heavenly 25 degrees, but the sun is setting behind the mountains. Watching it disappear, I realize that summer is leaving along with all the good intentions regularly gone to waste. September is a wonderful month for the usually stable weather, it's a riot of colors, the days are still quite long, it's not cold, and you don't sweat by standing still. But at the same time, it's very sad because you're aware it's the final chapter, and the next summer vacation is 330 days away. It's a bit like Sunday evening: no matter how lovely it is, it's spoiled by the mere thought of Monday morning. September is a beautiful girl, treacherous and deceitful. You can't fully enjoy it because in our human folly we think of sweaters, snow, the lack of light, the full return to work/school. It's the beginning of the end of a relationship: due to female issues, it will be procrastinated for months and seems relatively distant, but it will come. It's certain. Yes, now that the mountains have completely swallowed and digested the sun and the sky belches fire, while I write and watch the scenery with the wind in my face I feel officially sad, I enter the stube and slowly take a CD from my shelf. Letter S, and let's begin…

It feels like being at the theater when the instrumental “Ancient Winds” makes its entrance in a crescendo that launches the single after 3 minutes of well-executed anticipation. No, don't worry, a track by track analysis is not my style. What I need to emphasize is that the debut CD by the Brazilians Shaman ("Ritual") manages to stand out from the metal/rock/prog crowd that is predominant. At certain points, I won't deny, the album flexes its muscles with plenty of up-tempo and fast solos by the Mariutti/Confessori duo (Here I Am and the concluding Pride above all) but those are just summer storms. "Ritual" is, all things considered, a gray CD, intriguing, reflective and bitter: just like the beautiful end of summer. A sunset thinking of the coming night. Maybe it's the result of the painful separation from Angra, anything but peaceful, after 10 years of success, maybe it nostalgically deals with the emblematic, fascinating, and elusive figure of the old shamans, retracing a time when popular wisdom mattered. What matters is that often it proceeds on tiptoe with intricate crescendos to slowly reach the chorus; there are numerous breaks and rhythm changes that dot the work. But even when the main melody of the piece, the backbone, becomes clear, Shaman often play the waiting game, shuffle the deck with melancholic piano inserts, abrasive riffs full of regret and anger. Orchestrations and ethnic references that harken back to Angra's beginnings. This is the story of long and complex songs, capable of satisfying a well-trained auditory system, such as "Distant Thunder" or "For Tomorrow". A slow but continuous dripping is skillfully broken by the riffing in the gallop “Time Will Come” with folkloric references. Shamanic magic in the controversial and original "Over Your Head", while in the ecclesiastical, deliberately repetitive and sad “Fairy Tale” Matos showcases his voice under a massive spotlight. An impressive vocal control, which raises the hairs on my arms every time I listen to it.

Enough, I don't even feel like continuing to listen further. This was the peak of the album for me. No point in going on. A sufficient lump has risen in my throat; I think with regret about the mistakes made in recent times. I take the laptop in my arms, and as the air becomes crisp and fresh, I climb the stairs to get to my room. The sunlight is already gone. Summer is truly over.