•
Rating: Formed in Stavanger (Norway) in 1994, Theatre Of Tragedy are considered the inventors of "beauty and the beast metal," or metal sung by a male growl voice and an ethereal and delicate female voice, which, like a clash between good and evil, duel while complementing each other. In this case, the duel is between the growl of Raymond I. Rohonyi and the stunning voice of the angelic (and historic) Liv Kristine.
The music is characterized by doom metal with strong gothic influences and refined movements, as slow and enveloping in some parts as it is fast in others, but never excessively violent. The lyrics, all written in medieval English, are particularly unique and form beautiful poetry.
The CD opens with the title track, actually an intro of just over a minute, characterized by gloomy piano notes and background screams. Next comes "Fair And 'Guiling Copesmate Death" introduced by Liv's voice dominating against a backdrop of guitar and violin-like keyboards. Raymond's voice comes in, at first clean, slow, and monotone (as the genre requires) before unleashing powerful growls that form a duet with the angelic half. The harpsichord-like keyboard interlude and the sample halfway through the song, taken from some unknown film, are very suggestive. The two singers continue to duel until the end, spurred on by keyboards that actually suggest a string quartet. An acoustic guitar introduces us to "Bring Forth Ye Shadow" with Raymond intent on reciting his verses, soon joined by Liv, fantastic even in her pronunciation. The slow guitars accompanied by the piano paint majestically tragic scenarios. "Seraphic Deviltry" is a track with almost industrial rhythms accompanied by electronic effects that make it very danceable.
A melancholic piano and Liv's voice introduce "And When He Falleth", making space for Raymond's growl trying to overpower the angelic counterpart. The piece is interspersed with Gregorian chants followed by a dialogue from the 1964 film "The Masque Of The Red Death," and it all makes us feel as if we're in an ancient medieval castle. The first single and the only song in German is "Der Tanz Der Schatten" (a hit in many gothic/dark clubs at the time), with mysterious keyboards introducing the guitars to make room for electronically filtered voices and the usual duets. Liv closes by obsessively repeating, almost as if it were a litany, the phrase: "Ich Liebe Dich." "Black As The Devil Painteth" is a distinctly doom piece, really slow alternating between Raymond's solo voice and the overwhelming and melancholic duet between the two. The text, focusing on the figure of the artist, is very beautiful. A decidedly gloomy riff introduces us to "On Whom The Moon Doth Shine", alternating very sweet piano parts with harsher guitar ones to then sublimate everything when Liv's voice rises sovereign, like a cry of innocence, and when the two duet over a backdrop of violins as gentle as the touch of pale roses. The delicate sound of a harp introduces us to "The Masquerader And Phoenix", a masterpiece within a masterpiece. Keyboards follow, and then, more ethereal than ever, the voice of the blonde singer. Then organ, drums with tribal cadences, and guitars as violent as stabs to the heart tear our faces apart while the growl does nothing but pour salt on the wounds. But after the storm comes the calm, and here these two magnificent voices intertwine one last time before fading into nothingness. The end of a masterpiece you would never want to stop listening to.
Even from a graphic point of view, the work stands out, showing a sensual and decadent cover, and overall beautiful artwork despite its simplicity. Let yourself be charmed by the velvety darkness of the Theatre of Tragedy.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Fair and 'Guiling Copesmate Death (07:05)
"Gaunt and gnarl'd
Reflecteth the silver shield this welkin aghast,
And with haste translateth to gild'd black post and fast."
"Anon - anon, say I! - the lid aside,
Crawl without this velvet-clad coffin blest,
The bottom sand of the hourglass is at tide,
"Sensing this pine is as deep as the deepest chasm,
'Tis and hath e'er been merry blood to pest -
Hither! - cede and fulfil my phantasm!
To be adust for time longer can I not bide,
Cherish me and sonorously do me laud -
Hence the heart hale out thro' the chest!
For dread! - thine eyes will behold a guise faugh'd."
Misery thee?! - Rather misery me! -
For in Time's durance am I naught but wee."
"This tender and loving pest I to thee bequeath,
Thence switly wilt thou errant to 'Neath."
"And to me should'st thou be the humblemost knave,
Lest fear! - spit I on thy cist and grave! -
Lest leer I at thee and do bewitch,
And the tharms fluttering claw'd and eldritch."
"To conquer thee and thy blood for glore
Art thou my afeard and reluctant whore;
Irksomely coy, save wiliéd by alarum,
Bear this torture and maim with decorum.
"If e'er always was I this blissful and blithe
Would I resign to but its wee tithe."
"Purvey my ache and quench my profoundest urge,
And to thee will I sing the lull-dull dirge;
Deliver thy blood like the rill filleth the ghyll."
"Burrow to the trothplight with Night and Devil! -
Bid Him to league with me - forsooth, merry to 'come 'twill."
"Whilom wast thou vestal, yet now flit to thy tryst,
Elsewise will I coerce thine consonantry to turn whist;
Grasp I the snath and cut off thine breath,
"Death - oh! fair and 'guiling copesmate Death,
So that thou canst in darkness and inferno vester,
Be not a malais'd beggar; claim this bloody jester!"
For do I solely what He to me liefly saith."
05 And When He Falleth (07:08)
"Be my kin free fro carnal sin,
Bride the thoughts of Master."
"There hath past away a glore fro the Earth;
A glore that in the hearts and minds of men,
Men demented - blindfolded by light,
Hourisheth as weed in their well-groom'd garihs."
"Might I too was blindfolded ere,
Tho' years have master'd me
A masque of this to fashion:
Seer blest, thou best philosopher!"
"Tis the Divine Comedy -
The fool and the mocking court:
Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!:
We hold the Earth to heaven away."
"The quality of mercy and absolution,
Whence cometh such qualities?
Build thyself a mirror in which
Solely wanton images of thy desire appear!"
"Tis is Divine Tragedy -
The fool and the rocking court:
Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!:
Make us guffaw at thy futile follies,
Yet for our blunders - Oh, in shame;
Earth beareth no balm for mistakes -
We hold the Earth to Hell away."
- That cross you wear around your neck;
is it only a decoration, or are you a true Christian believer?
- Yes, I believe - truly
- Then I want you to remove it at once!
And never to wear it within this castle again!
Do you know how a falcon is trained my dear?
Her eyes are sown shut. Blinded temporarily
she suffers the whims of her God patiently,
until her will is submerged and she learns to serve -
as your God taught and blinded you with crosses.
- You had me take off my cross because it offended...
- It offended no-one. No - it simply appears
to me to be discourteous to... to wear
the symbol of a deity long dead.
My ancestors tried to find it. And to open
the door that separates us from our Creator.
- But you need no doors to find God. If you believe...
- Believe?! If you believe you are gullible.
Can you look around this world and believe
in the goodness of a god who rules it?
Famine, Pestilence, War, Disease and Death!
They rule this world.
- There is also love and life and hope.
- Very little hope I assure you. No.
If a god of love and life ever did exist...
he is long since dead.
Someone... something rules in his place.
"Believe? In a deity long dead? -
I would rather be a pagan suckled in creeds outworn;
With faartytales fill'd up in head:
Thoughts of the Book stillborn."
"Shadow of annoyance -
Ne'er come hither
...And then He falleth,
He falleth like Lucifer
Ne'er to ascend again..."
07 Black as the Devil Painteth (05:26)
An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth -
Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow?,
O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still! passionlessly it quivereth,
Minding not that my hands are more than apt;
My Muse,
Where is hidden
The blue-huèd arch 'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry,
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflakèd and aèry mountains,
In which the barebreastèd maidens dance to the lay o' midsummer,
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vainglore.
O Canvas!, wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my Theatre they should be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o' mine -
What is this unforseen that not enjoineth light shades to be skillfully paintèd?
The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds,
Unadornèd the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood,
The maidens chainèd and whippèd within a dreary dungeon -
And, lo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave:
�The Devil is as Black as he Painteth' -
O Canvas! wherefore?...
10 A Rose for the Dead (05:12)
-- oh - my dearest; the sweet music in the ear -
-- albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an everso dark sleep.
my precious,
likest thou what emergeth yon the distant?
the throbbing and breathing of life's machinery!
-- wanion its oh so damndest soul!
-- with the devil-instrument it we shall reap,
-- after the banquet obscur'd in our thole,
-- its blood so lovingly across our faces smear
-- lord of carnage,
lady of carnage,
-- one funeral maketh many,
swarm god's acres;
-- two indeed more:
-- blest treat of delight -
give praise for the blood it bled,
grant a rose for the dead! -- grant a rose for the dead!
enraptur'd by the timeless beauty of the
shadowsphere,
we two abide the overlook'd time of the watch.
-- make this cherish'd feast last
-- but until the new dawn ascendeth.
be still - harken the lure of night!
bale in each its damndest shadow,
cloth me in night, ne'er fell rue,
in its face, behold! naught save grue.
pray, ne'er come hither daylight! -- wane to dust the wight,
velvet darkness, thee we ourselves bestow! -- misery it in velvet fright
Loading comments slowly
Other reviews
By DarKNight
You see darkness and you keep searching for a bit of light, but there isn’t any.
After two years of listening to it, I continue to discover new images, sensations, emotions...
By OzzyRotten
All the parts that make up this work are in their place according to a precise, thoughtful, fascinating, and eccentrically sad purpose.
A brilliant interplay of growl and sweetness, like a deadly game: beauty, even if mysterious and with a vague dangerous scent, and ferocity measured and trapped in a universal and objectifying dismay.
