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Rating: Lately, the so-called folk metal has enjoyed good popularity among those who listen to so-called extreme music. Many bands, I'm thinking of Finntroll, Korpiklaani, Ensiferum, Turisas, and surely there are others that might be even more representative, owe their success to the mix of black or melodic death riffs and traditional instruments (notably in recent years, power and symphonic influences have become quite prominent), all accompanied by choruses worthy of taverns where rivers of beer flow, often sung in growl or scream. What many don't know, or have forgotten, is that this (sub)genre originated from good old thrash.
Yes indeed, back in 1990, the singer Martin Walkyer left the legendary Sabbat due to artistic differences with the other mind of the band, guitarist Andy Sneap (now a well-known producer). Alongside Steve Ramsey (guitar) and Graeme English (bass), formerly of the classic bands Satan and Pariah, he founded Skyclad with the intent to create "the ultimate pagan metal band". The name itself is already a declaration of intent, as it refers to a practice in Wiccan pagan rituals, that of being naked (clad) under the sky (sky), and demonstrates how much Walkyer is passionate about these topics, as was already seen with the concept of "Dreamweaver" by Sabbat.
For the charismatic singer, it's probably not a new beginning, but a continuation of a discourse. Indeed, his angry and raspy vocal style characterized by a peculiar metric hasn't changed from his previous studio work, and his cryptic and meticulously crafted river of lyrics, another big difference from today’s caribou sausage festival folk metal, sweep the listener from start to finish of the album. What is new compared to Sabbat's style is the presence of the violin that pops up suddenly here and there, starting right from the opening "The Sky Beneath My Feet", and probably reaches its moment of glory in the ballad "The Widdershins Jig", which can be taken as a manifesto song where the genre finds its identity. An identity that will be more concretely realized already in the following "A Burnt Offering for the Bone Idol", where the violin will be given much more space, and then further with the third album "Jonah's Ark" where thrash, by then a dead genre, will be abandoned entirely.
In essence, this is still a raw album, but tremendously spontaneous, which I personally consider unsurpassable and conceptually superior to all current folk/viking/celtic/symphonic metal works that saturate the music market today, much to the delight of Nuclear Blast.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
04 The Widdershins Jig (03:41)
A wise man's son and Wednesday's child in each other found a friend,
And searched together for the treasure hiding at the rainbow's end.
To wise man's son and Wednesday's child all is white that is not black,
They dance in symbiotic deadlock--one step forward two steps back,
Playing karmic snakes and ladders (all your sins will find you out),
When all your gains are lost in vain on cosmic wings and roundabouts.
At the roadside manhood's flower--blighted by a wayward youth,
Has cast its seed on well-worn pathways--borne on winds of whispered truth.
We march to drums of our own choosing--each of them keeps different time,
As you are free to live your own life so I am free to live mine.
Now wise man's son and Wednesday's child can recognise their own mistakes,
And to these ends they make amends for every promise that they break.
Both wise man's son and Wednesday's child view the world in red and green,
Await the day when they die laughing--thinking of the sights they've seen.
I tell you now if they were given chance to live their lives again--
Wise man's son and Wednesday's child would make the same mistakes as then.
At the roadside manhood's flower--blighted by a wayward youth,
Has cast its seed on well-worn pathways--borne on winds of whispered truth.
We march to drums of our own choosing--each of them keeps different time,
As you are free to live your own life so I am free to live mine.
07 The Cradle Will Fall (06:23)
A species in its infancy--a living idiosyncrasy,
This 'naked ape' believes itself divine.
Assured of its supremacy--it dreams of immortality,
The first words that it speaks--"This world is mine."
But the time has come for us to realise,
That the animal instincts we deeply despise--
Are far more civilised than humanity.
Mankind has lived to curse the day it climbed down from the trees,
But still we keep our heads held high whilst crawling on our knees.
I hope I never live to see the 'perfect' world you crave,
Where ambition is the burden we shall carry to our graves.
We think that we are so superior--for in God's image we were made,
All other life we deem inferior--there to exploit, kill or enslave
No amount of remonstration could ever show a mind so small
that it is not 'the be and end all.'
Into the future we race driven on by our greed,
Like rats in a maze we will never be free.
Science is the 'new-religion'--scaples slash dissecting truth and reason,
Behind locked doors where no-one sees.
Down evolution's one way street mankind pursues his dream,
Of a race conceived in test tubes with the same designer genes,
But like a child who tries to run before it learns to crawl--
he'll go crying to his 'Mother' when he sees the cradle fall.
I am human--I was made to be the ultimate machine,
With the power at my fingertips to realise my dream.
Homo-sapiens--the 'master-race,' Nature's pride and joy,
Taking all the world will give me--what it won't I shall destroy.
In our hearts we yearn to be immortal--conquer all sickness and disease,
Create a world where even death's not fatal--then we can shape our destinies.
A populace of plastic people live genetically pre-programmed lives--and no-one
laughs and no-one cries.
Blinded by science the masses are duped and deceived,
By the faces that smile from their colour T.V.s.
They'll steal your dreams--remove them surgically (but leave you scars so deep
and lasting),
God is dead man has surpassed him.
Like children in our playground--we contrive such foolish games,
But fail to see the consequence of suicidal aims.
No matter how we bend the rules there's no way we can win,
Not even pleading Ignorance will vindicate our sins.
I am human--I was made to be the ultimate machine,
With the power at my fingertips to realise my dream.
Homo-sapiens--the 'master-race,' Nature's pride and joy,
Taking all the world will give me--what it won't I shall destroy.
Mankind a babe-in-arms,
Believes he's come of age--
And reaches for the stars,
With one foot in the grave.
I am human--I was made to be the ultimate machine,
I am human--I have the power to realise my dream.
I am human--an automaton--a mindless 'technoslave,'
I am human--I am servant to the monsters I have made.
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