The Black
Peccatis Nostris / Capistrani Pugnator

Often on Debaser, an artist is noticed on the eightieth review submitted; often it’s quantity that imposes quality. And if, as I read in the review of "Park of Reason," there'll be three of us who know Paul Chain, then there'll be no more than two of us who appreciate Mario "The Black" Di Donato. But don't worry, I'm not planning to flood the net with reviews of the works of the little-known musician from Abruzzo: for an exhaustive presentation of the art of the national Marione, I'll be content to refer back to my review of "Golgotha," not losing the chance to advertise it. However, probably awakened by the recent release of “Gorgoni,” which prompted me to dust off the band's old works and rediscover others overlooked in the past, I feel the need to add more about this indispensable protagonist of our local metal scene, a skilled painter of restless scenarios, who between sacred (much) and profane (little) has been able to brand the path of Italian metal over the last forty years.

I do so by discussing a very recent work, this "Peccatis Nostris/Capistrani Pugnator," released in 2004 on vinyl as two separate albums, and on CD as a double album. So, beyond the fact that time flies and sometimes there is a need to optimize, it is not entirely inappropriate to have a single discussion of these two works which, in fact, would more correctly be seen as two distinct and independent episodes.

Interrupting a trend, accentuated by the good "Apocalypis" (from 1996) and worthily continued by the already mentioned "Golgotha" (from 2000), in which Our heavy doom was increasingly draped in progressive tones, the double-header I am talking about today relocates the band's sound on the solid coordinates of a more classic heavy metal, rediscovering its origins in that metallic magma born from the guitaristic ferments of Iommi & company to embrace the angularities of classic formations of the genre such as Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. In short, if the progressive and symphonic deviations of the just previous albums had deflated the interest of many purists, certainly "Peccatis Nostris" and "Capistrani Pugnator" will delight the ears of fans of sizzling sound. But let's proceed calmly.

"Peccatis Nostris," as the title already suggests, is the "blackened" revisitation of the seven deadly sins, and the painting depicted on the cover, "Inferno Canto XXII – I Demoni" by Di Donato himself, could not but be the proper representation of the concept. The music returns to being violent, the typically sulfurous attitude given by the essentially doom setup is shaken by sudden accelerations that go on to depict with vivid colors (red and brown mostly!) the descent into the Inferno that the concept intends to portray.

The superb opener "Prigritia," for example, well describes this progressive crumbling among the rocks, fire, and mud of Dante's seven circles which will be represented one after the other in the work: the earthquaking refrain with double reciting voice "Hoc Autem Praecipio," driven by the sharp guitars and the sustained tempos of the drums (elements that will characterize the second portion of the composite track, whose incipit had moved under the sign of slow, dragging riffs and chanting verses in Latin), is the perfect musical transposition of the free-falling sense that the band wants to stage: a plunging plunge down sinful steep slopes directed toward a dark world devoid of redemption.

Generally the pieces live on slowdowns and speed-ups before evolving into the typical song format: so forget epic choruses and catchy refrains, the album is still the result of Di Donato's free guitar wanderings (his inspired solos are always excellent), strengthened by a very respectable rhythmic section: the round bass of Enio Nicolini and the solid drums of Gianluca Bracciale, who does not hold back on the double bass where necessary (example par excellence: the powerful ride known as "Superbia").

Overall, the album is appreciated, although it remains stained by the original sin of stubbornly adhering to an anachronistic/stylistically conservative vision that ends up diluting what has always been the band's raison d'être, that is, the ability to forge a fascinating and imaginative declination of classic heavy-metal: in short, we are in 2003, but the work could have been released twenty years earlier, so much does it appear as a monolithic revival of what the genre has managed to produce in the seventies and eighties, even before the thrash revolution that upset everything (even if here and there traces of the passage of a fundamental work like "Kill 'em All" are perceived). With a pinch of regret, unfortunately, for the weakening of the more properly progressive and atmospheric components (except for the brief appearance of operatic choruses in the final "Ira," which also gives us the most tense moment of the album in the final, as is obviously expected from the representation of the specifically described sin). If we add to it that Di Donato's vocals (certainly not an excellent singer!) appear less inspired than usual, we understand that the work itself comfortably reaches sufficiency, but without ever touching superlative levels.

A whole different story for "Capistrani Pugnator," of completely different substance, which certainly would have deserved a separate discussion, if only to highlight and give the right space to the splendid cover: a fine pastel self-portrait by Di Donato himself, inspired by the limestone statue "Il Guerriero di Capestrano," found in the sixties in the province of Pesaro, demonstrating the emotional and artistic bond the musician has with his land.

The album consists of only four tracks (apart from the brief introduction "Kardiophylax"), all quite long, showcasing not only the technical skills of the three musicians (here more compact and cohesive than ever), but also the excellent state of inspiration that this time moved Di Donato's pen. The formula essentially remains the same: a mystical, archaic, spiritual power-doom, in other words, the typical "metallo mentis" of blackian origin, so traditional, and at the same time, so free from any pre-established scheme; but here a different air is breathed, the tracks shine with greater personality, they have something majestic, monumental, a magic that is difficult to describe in words.

The very performance behind the microphone of Di Donato seems more convincing, and as if that wasn't enough, Our hero is backed by cameos from old friends of the caliber of Eugenio Mucci (ex Requiem, a formation in which Di Donato himself had served) and Ben Spinazzola (who lent his vocals in the first incarnation of UT), heavyweights of our history. Goosebumps the epic counterpoint of the former in the chorus of "Date Hilli Honorem"; orgasmic the intense vocal intervention of the latter in the second verse of the title track.

And precisely in the fourteen minutes of the title track, the summit of the band's epic and visionary poetics, we find the peak of a work that shines in every moment. In the emotional ups and downs of the title track, which alone is worth the purchase of the entire double album, we find a real handbook of doom metal: in the archaic and chanting harmonies dictated by Di Donato's guitar, in the deadly central break, dominated by the thundering march of the drums, in the mighty instrumental coda, infested with evocative and hypnotic guitar riffs and a ruthless double bass, a tragic conclusion culminating in a heart-pumping acceleration. In these fourteen minutes, Mario Di Donato rediscovers himself as a hero of national (and not only) doom: an outstanding test served for all those who still had doubts about one of the most talented guitarists of our metal scene.

In short, a gem (in the end, the whole thing approaches eighty minutes!) that fans of the genre must not, in any way, overlook!

HOMO
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MALO