The Black
Apocalypsis

The beauty of the old school is that it was able to maintain a solid identity while also embracing different inspirations from time to time, giving each work a unique nuance that didn't dramatically affect the sound always championed, but managed to provide new impressions to the listener each time.

And so, after a dry and monolithic album like "Abbatia Scl. Clementis," Mario Di Donato effortlessly crafts a soft and colorful album like “Apocalypsis,” the third official full-length in his artistic journey under the label The Black (excluding the debut mini-album “Reliquiarum” from 1989 and the resurrection work “Refugium Peccatorum” which followed “Abbatia Scl. Clementis”).

The Black is the outlet that Di Donato chose to shape his metal mentis, a faithful mirror of his ars mentis. And just as his painting art is rich and multicolored, so even a work dealing with the themes of the Apocalypse sounds equally generous in colors and nuances.

“Apocalypsis,” released in 1996, is the compact and metaphysical “uncle” of the subsequent and disjointed “Golgotha,” another reflection on the decline of the world and humanity (but from a more social perspective), and within it, the doors to decidedly more progressive lands are flung open, which in the rocky “Abbatia Scl. Clementis” were sacrificed for a granite sound more closely related to classic heavy metal.

Thanks to the stable inclusion of keyboardist Massimiliano Terzoli who, even for just one album, enriched the well-tested sound of the musician from Pesaro with new shades. But it is the melodic maturation achieved in this “Apocalypsis” that ferries The Black's music out of the clichés of doom more traditionally Sabbath-like (a label that is still useful, even if Di Donato's doom is never oppressive or suffocating, nor painted with the blackest black of the darkest occultism).

But it's not just the visionary flair that the almost ever-present organ adds to each track that makes The Black's music more evocative: it is the work of the tireless Di Donato who, after almost twenty years of honorable metal craftsmanship, retains a superb inspiration, an inspiration that animates the six strings of a highly personal guitar style, despite the numerous and incisive allusions to His Majesty Tony Iommi. Yet, it's evident here (as it will be in “Golgotha”) that the pachyderm-like quality of the Sabbathian lesson remains one of the many mediums used by an artist whose roots are in the seventies and who continuously looks to that decade, never ostentating excessive arrogance, but always placing technique,intelligence, and good taste at the service of the final product's accessibility.

The lyrics, suspended between Latin and Italian, draw directly from the Holy Scriptures and are perfectly enmeshed in a metallic flow that almost entirely forsakes the song format, conferring a mystical aura that blends well with the menacing tones The Black's music adopts here. Enio Nicolini's bass, hindered by production issues, doesn't stand out much among the intricate patterns woven by Di Donato and Terzoli, carving out a role only in arpeggiated form, while the entry of the talented Gianluca Bracciale into the lineup will be fundamental (destined to remain in the band to this day), whose drumming injects renewed dynamism into The Black's music, while still nodding to the lyrical themes: and so, as chaotic rolls open up to engaging and epic fits, and even as the grandiose martial steps of which his drums take on restore to The Black's music the solemnity of the Apocalypse, the sadness of drum hits or the pressing of tribal rhythms open up to crescendos aimed at materializing fantastic landscapes alluding again to the more visionary side classic metal can possess.

The tracks (twelve in total, four of which are instrumental) each have their reason and contribute to the structure of an album that lives by a larger design that ends up prevailing over the individual episodes. And so, if the explosion of the guitar and the sharp drumming of the earthshaking “I Sette Sigilli” seems to take us directly back to the stylistic elements of the previous “Abbatia Scl. Clementis,” the trio of tracks that follows (“Primo et Secondo Angelo,” “Terzo et Quarto Angelo,” and “Ultimi Tre Angeli,” whose succession creates a climax of increasing intensity and violence worthy of a world-ending mega-suite), this trio of tracks, it is said, opens the path to progressive and atmospheric metal where the majesty of Di Donato’s guitar, woven together with Terzoli’s dense orchestrations, acquires a renewed visionary emphasis, at times touching an intensity that we might call Wagnerian. Di Donato's voice is what it is, but now it is such a foundational part of the overall sound of his music that it's easy to forgive a vocal performance that isn't stellar, yet capable of sketching vivid images with mythical contours, the conceptual substance of a work where words and music are one.

The album sounds, therefore, like a harsh contest between the epileptic guitar of Di Donato, Terzoli’s pompous keyboard layers, and Bracciali’s furious drumming: a bacchanal where King Crimson, Yes, Rush, Black Sabbath, and our own horror metal coexist in perfect symbiosis.

The final glimpse of the album is unmissable, dominated by another trio (“La Bestia che Sale dal Mare,” “Prima del Buio” - a chilling organ interlude – and “La Bestia che Sale dalla Terra”) that completes the complex structure of the album, allowing us to access the final part of the concept, the most painfully destructive, where Metal and Apocalypse are now one: a path culminating with the highlight of the entire work, the majestic title track, which, due to the intense vocal performance and the splendid melodies expressed, must undoubtedly be counted among the highest moments of Di Donato's entire career.

“Il Trionfo della Morte” has the honor of closing on a note of the darkest pessimism, an album that could have been the definitive masterpiece (for conceptual and content compactness) to identify within The Black's discography, if it weren’t for a production that doesn't do justice to the complexity of the Abruzzese musician's creative genius. Still, even this time does not disappoint, proving capable of crafting yet another jewel, born—as always—from his sensitivity, his culture, and his indelible inspiration.