Sol Invictus
In the Rain

"In the Rain" is an album that Sol Invictus fans have always cherished. 

Wakeford himself seems to have a special bond with this 1995 work, a piece that contains unforgettable songs, among the most beautiful and intense that the artist has proposed throughout his career.

Tracks that stand the test of time, still performed live today, interpreted with devotion and feeling; songs that materialize on stage without the fanfare of great classics, but as precious gifts, on tiptoe, in a whisper, through an imaginary path that seems to start from Wakeford's heart and reach straight to that of his fans.

 "In the Rain" thus reconnects with the more intimate albums of Sol Invictus, a series well represented by works like "In a Garden Green" and the recent "The Devil's Steed": a dreamy melancholy, a sense of affliction that finds no satisfaction, an inner movement of the spirit that flies high and probes immense catastrophes that plague all humanity from great heights.

 If Douglas P. tends to hide, camouflage, conceal behind the music of Death in June (camouflage and mask are not used by chance), Wakeford empties himself out: a titanic entity at the center of the cyclone, overwhelmed by the onslaught of colossal rains that flood and obscure the world, he is a naked king on his throne of Nothing.

As tears furrow the afflicted walls of his heart, so the murky and impetuous torrents sweep away the love and nobility of spirit of a barren humanity destined for spiritual death.

 What remains is the quagmire, the pools of stagnant water, a blurred and veiled figure beyond the heavy rainfall.

What remains is "Stay", a song of solitude and hope, of a feeling, love, seen as the only antidote to the decay of humanity condemned to perish in vice, greed, hypocrisy, cowardice.

A world painted with the oil hues of a guitar that marches solitary among the shadows and the piercing grip of violins and cello (courtesy of Nathalie Van Keymeulen, Céline Marleix-Bardeau, and the always excellent Sarah Bradshaw).

"Stay", like the subsequent "Believe Me", traversed by trembling tolls of apocalyptic piano, is a torrent of tears shed for the senseless fate of this mindless and reckless humanity ("Without love we are lost, Believe me - we are lost, Without love we are dust, Believe me - we are dust", reads the lyrics of one of Wakeford's most heartfelt and inspired compositions).

 "Stay", "Believe Me", but also the title-track, "An English Garden", are essences, aromas, their flow is immortal, their consistency volatile: they exist regardless of the studio recordings, and the versions of "In the Rain" are certainly not the best possible versions.

"In the Rain" indeed suffers from the same issues that afflict the early works of Sol Invictus, the most intense and sincere, but also the crudest, raw, and full of flaws.

Wakeford's coarse voice struggles, has difficulty catching the simplest notes, helplessly resorts to the same tones as always; his hand awkwardly plucks the guitar strings, reinforced gradually by David Mellor's keyboards and piano, Eric Rodgers' trumpet, and the grim drumming of Nick Hall. The arrangements are unfortunately what they are, still imperfect and not without smudges ("Europa in the Rain I" and "Europa in the Rain II", called to open and close the album, are embarrassing in their melodic childishness).

 It is Wakeford's tortured soul that is the driving force behind it all.

Wakeford's soul: that can indeed surpass, beyond technical skill, beyond sound quality, beyond any compositional decency.

How not to be excited, for instance, by the epic "Fall like Rain", among the best songs ever by Sol Invictus: limping at times, solemn at others, and always ready to explode into the overwhelming chorus where Wakeford's trembling voice is carried by Karl Blake's electric guitar that crashes onto our ears with the force of a torrent in flood.

Great moments, then, in "In the Rain": hidden and forgotten jewels like the poignant "Down the Years" or the fierce "Oh What Fun"; but also so-so moments, and it's enough to think of the dull "The World Shrugged" and "In Days to Come", a bit anonymous and products of Wakeford's compositional limits, limits that become more noticeable at the album's end.

 Yet the soul and faith of Wakeford - a defeated fighter, a preacher to the wind, a foolish chaser of chimeras - remain strong, steadfast, indelible in the face of the impact, the fury of the elements.

It pours down on our Europe.

Yesterday as today and forever, the knight decides to stop and take shelter in an abandoned barn.

He lays down his arms, removes the heavy armor, and rests on the soft straw.

He closes his eyes.

Beyond the hills and far away, a world sinking and rotting, a reflection of his pain.