Sonne Hagal
Helfahrt

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I listen to it once again, while describing it to you, this album that, like an open window onto a chilly snowy landscape, brings a bit of winter into my room.  

 A little treasure for those who love apocalyptic folk, and not only, because the Germans Sonne Hagal, in line with their compatriots Forseti and Orplid, are able to transcend the genre, looking beyond the tragic and fatalistic moods of their masters, preferring instead to follow the thread of their own feelings and pour them into the poetry and melancholy of an arcane and pantheistic folk.

And it is probably the German neo-folk scene that gives us the greatest joys of this third millennium. On one hand, abandoning certain inflated clichés that have now been drained of their original meaning (and I think of the trite and overused war settings, often welcomed with a superficiality that is nothing short of irritating), on the other hand, orienting towards the rediscovery of the folk traditions of central and northern Europe.

Not much is known about Sonne Hagal (even their website, strictly in German, doesn't tell us much, preferring to captivate us with black and white landscape photos), apart from the fact that they are a quartet with a considerable number of publications (often released only on vinyl and in ultra-limited editions).

"Helfahrt", released in 2002, seems to be, to date, among a myriad of EPs, singles, and splits, their only official full-length .

 The opener "Memory, Hither Come" - simple, almost childish, barely whispered, yet so engaging - captures us with an explosive bass, a driving guitar, and the intense ballet of violin and cello: the world of Sonne Hagal materializes like this, without virtuosity, through the voice of the heart and the humility of four minstrels who evidently have something to say.

Moreover, the fact that Sonne Hagal are a real band and not the project of the misanthrope of the moment is entirely evident: their music, strengthened by the added value of the interaction of hearts, minds, and talents, shines with a choral nature, of a wealth of ideas and a variety of solutions that make the listening smooth and extremely pleasant.

The four do not give up, moreover, on the well-dosed use of a minimal electronics that occasionally breaks in on tiptoe, without however damaging the archaic charm of the compositions (I forgot: Sonne Hagal hide an industrial/ritual soul, better expressed elsewhere, but which in this work will gradually have the chance to emerge).

The sighs of a calm male voice, the temper of a baritone that couldn't be more Nordic, the ethereal flutters of a graceful maiden: three voices called to animate the twelve jewels collected here. Not to mention the precious contribution of two highly respectable friends: Kim Larsen (:Of the Wand and the Moon:) and Andreas Ritter (Forseti), who lend their voice and guitar in no less than three episodes.

 "Eismahd", which belongs to the rich array of folk ballads present, represents alongside "Thrymskvida", "Song of Experience" and "The Sick Rose" the more intimate side of Sonne Hagal (the track, incidentally, will be revisited with not too many variations by cousins Forseti on the occasion of the superb "Erde").

"Midwinternight", with its set and traditional singing, instead shows the more epic and poignant side of our Artists. "Songs of Innocence", on its own, directly connects to the Fire+Ice/Sol Invictus stream: and it is no coincidence that upon the arrival of the chorus it will seem as if you hear the intense and trembling voice of master Ian Read. Shivers on our skin, as the guitars urge on and a fairy's voice magically flutters through the air.

 However, there are also more lively episodes, such as "Futhark" (electro-folk reminiscent of the early Death in June, the ones of "Nada!" just to be clear), "Comrade Enemy" (threatening flamenco chased by restless violins) or the dark "The Runes are still Alive", which in my opinion is a candidate for the most intriguing track of the album: the metallic beat of a drum machine, whispers, and screeching strings scraping the guitars, and an apocalyptic recitation that goes on to resurrect the frayed lament of the ever-mourned Ian Curtis.

 Excellent, in my view, the interludes carved out by the two guests: Kim Larsen's "Raidho" is a desolate exploration through the snow and cold, punctuated by funereal arpeggios and buried by a suffering oration that evokes disintegrated inner landscapes. Andreas Ritter, for his part, instills a touch of Forseti in the melancholy "Midgard" (but will also contribute to the already mentioned "The Runes are still Alive").

 This and much more in an album that in its 45-minute duration not only manages to consistently stay on the crest of the wave but with imagination and wit, revisits in a varied and lively manner a genre that by vocation lends itself to much other tones and visions.

 For those who love to lie in a bed of pure snow, wrapped in a shroud of dead leaves, in the intimate warmth of their thoughts, their pains, their passions.