Skagos
Ást

Plagued, wounded, Nature is on its knees. Here, the cities are far away; their miasmas aren't quite noticeable among these trees, where the only noise that prevails is that of the fierce waterfall, which, from the rough rocky walls, vents its ancestral wrath downstream, where smooth stones and mossy beds temper its fury... Yet, despite the distance, the air is day by day becoming denser, murky.

Among the tall firs, in the shady clearings, a song rises: it's a lament, it's unclear whether generated by a human, an animal, or another living being... It's something ancient, profound, that if only you could also hear it, as I am hearing it, you would feel it filtering through your skin to your nerves, muscles, and bones, and you would feel your body resonate with a vibration never experienced before. The song rises in intensity, becomes hypnotic, often beating on the same notes, which, like the water of the waterfall, always hit the same spot, wearing down every resistance. Then, drums join in, whose cadence seems to recreate the heartbeat of the creatures that move the branches of this forest and enliven the sky above them. It seems that the whole thing, in stark opposition to what is happening in the not-too-distant city, is aimed at celebrating life, rebirth, the stance of Nature, which has always been here, first of all, and will certainly not let itself be poisoned by one of its creatures.

The poor deer, mortally wounded by a hunter seeking a keepsake from a Sunday outing, lies at the entrance to the cave. Its soul long ago reached, through the blades of grass that caressed its body, the center of the Earth, where it reunited with its kind in the dance of life; and from its carcass, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in a month, beautiful flowers will bloom, life that regenerates continuously.

Finally, the fog will descend to cloak the tall firs and snow-capped peaks, reuniting the forest under its misty mantle, then yielding to the Night, whose gentle rhythms will comfort hearts weary from the daily battle, yet another, which will inevitably begin anew the next day. When the sun rises, it will welcome new lives and new losses, acknowledging how, day by day, Nature is yielding to the poison of the nearby city.

Avoiding easy irony on the band's name, what we find ourselves listening to with "Ást" is pure and simple "Cascadian Black Metal", as has been long defined the branch of black metal produced in the region known as Cascadia, in the northwest USA (and part of Canada). Skagos takes cues from the ferocity of Wolves in The Throne Room, adding a "shamanic" and ritual dose which I've recently appreciated in acts such as Alda and Addaura, and mixes it all with intimate and atmospheric phrasings dear to the neo-paganism of Agalloch, to bring forth six (on average) long pleasant tracks that are never tiring, where the emotions these pieces know how to convey play the leading role. Unfortunately, lately, bands playing this type of music are popping up almost everywhere, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish the truly worthwhile ones from mere imitators, but I believe this is also a genre particularly direct on an emotional level. "Ást" fortunately ranks among the more communicative works from this point of view: the listener accustomed to these sounds won't take long to be captivated by the qualities of Our own, simply realizing the speed with which the pieces produced by the combo will know how to insinuate themselves beneath the skin, leading them to press the "play" button again.

Without significant weaknesses, this album by the American Skagos rightfully belongs among the "must-haves" of this musical genre.