Sirenia
The Enigma Of Life

I used to think that a group as essentially useless as Sirenia had already hit (and thoroughly scraped) rock bottom a long time ago. But by now even the hermit crabs know: "there's no limit to how bad things can get".

That Morten Veland visibly began to lose inspiration after leaving Tristania in 2000 is an undeniable fact; the real problem is that this artistic decline, highlighted with the formation of his personal project Sirenia (good heavens, it would have been less ridiculous to call it Gothic Mussels Inc.), has persisted for over a decade. A sad decade in which, however, Morten has demonstrated a remarkable compositional flair, managing to release an album every two years, as per contractual script. By simple calculation, therefore, with this "The Enigma Of Life" (2011) our tireless craftsman has reached his fifth studio effort (?).

Any new features in sight? Changes of course planned? Transformations on the way? Zero. Cosmic void. Statuary immobility. Ontological nothingness. The only semi-difference noticeable from previous releases is a greater tendency towards easy listening (a choice that I have never wanted to stigmatize in itself) accompanied by further compositional, artistic, lyrical and so on impoverishment. In short, getting an idea of how "The Enigma Of Life" sounds is incredibly simple: just take Sirenia with all their associated flaws, raise them to the cube and spread the result over about sixty minutes of album. The basic substance remains increasingly unchanged, increasingly spoiled.

And this substance takes shape in a diabetic gothic-melo-pop, stuffed with plasticky and childish orchestrations, sung by a very, very alternative Cristina D'Avena in the grip of sweet pubertal ravings, and finally masked by insipid soft-metal guitar strumming that, while trying to strengthen it all, end up instead giving it a touch of rigor mortis. Discussing individual tracks is almost pointless: the paucity of ideas is total, and there is no room for relevant details, let alone strokes of genius. There is the verse. There is the chorus. There are the orchestral inserts, a little here, a little there. There are the Gregorian chants - and Morten, for heaven’s sake, you've been serving them up in every album for ten years as if they were the invention of the century, you’ve worn us out, dip them in milk for breakfast and try not to bore us anymore.

The lyrical-conceptual aspect deserves a separate mention. Nowadays, gothic metal is plagued by innumerable and embarrassing clichés, often dictated by mere commercial needs, or more simply by the doubtful artistic depth of musicians: if I really had to best summarize this immense pseudo-alternative circus, "The Enigma Of Life" would be the perfect compendium; the musical aspect is amazingly mirrored in the lyrics, so absurdly childish and affected that I repeatedly doubt whether the pen behind all this could be the same as that of the intimate, elegant decadence of "Widow's Weeds". Examples?

(from "A Seaside Serenade")
"I wander lost and lonely by the shoreline of the sea
I think about the way I wanted life to be
The seaside leads me on to the sound of sweeping waves
My heart gets filled with sorrow and grief along the way"

(from "Fallen Angel")
"I've always felt so cold inside, clinging on to life
I've always felt at one with the night, fading deep inside
Winter winds are blowing through my life
Deep inside I know that I can run but I can't hide"

... ... ...
Morten, seriously, who are you trying to fool? Take up horse riding.

Then I go back to listen for the hundred millionth time to "Wildhoney", "Draconian Times", "Irreligious", "Turn Loose The Swans"... And I wonder with what courage one could present this lacquered garbage as "gothic metal". What a shame.