Thy Catafalque
Rengeteg

I have always been quite reluctant to talk about certain artists who are known by just a handful of scraggly cats and whose existence, in the end, no one really gives a damn about. Is it really worth it? How many times have I come across some reviews and read default comments (even my own!) like "interesting proposal, I'll listen to it," only to find that such interest had quietly dissolved into laziness and indifference? Yet, when I really think about it, there's no point in always discussing the same well-known artists, who are certainly more popular but about whom everything and its opposite might have already been said.

In the end, the reluctance remains, and not without reason; however, for some time now, I've been contemplating addressing the tiny gap in the magical DeDatabase by dedicating a few sparse reviews to the Hungarians Thy Catafalque, a band in name only since the sole author of music and lyrics (strictly in his native language) of this amazing avantgarde metal project is the clever fox Kátai Tamás, a poet, photographer, and, it seems, an eclectic multi-instrumentalist musician.

The evolution of this one-man band (occasionally enriched by session musicians) has followed a quite paradigmatic path, with raw beginnings marked by a scraping black metal that nonetheless reveals an unusual inclination for experimentation and electronic contamination, in fact, much more present starting from the atypical "Tuno ido tárlat" (2004), much more personal and interesting but still hindered by a production not up to par and by surely improvable songwriting.

The real coup, however, comes with the excellent "Róka hasa rádió" (2009), already completely outside the box and born from an artist finally aware of his capabilities and willing to venture into the perilous territories of the avant-garde. And, if "Róka" was the evolutionary peak of Thy Catafalque, this "Rengeteg" is the legitimate and perfect consolidation of a newly experimented formula. Compared to other Thy Catafalque releases, perhaps a touch of originality is lacking in favor of an approach bordering on easy listening (compared to today's quality standards, it remains a remarkably unique and rare work!), but at the same time, it seems that good old Tamás had fun throwing a bit more meat on the fire!

So, what would the above formula be? The language in which Thy Catafalque expresses itself is made up of paradoxes: heavy and robust in sound, but sensitive and poetic in soul; bone-crushing in the more strictly metallic component, but eclectic and imaginative in the care of arrangements and lilting melodies, with a vaguely gypsy flavor; in short, its reinforced concrete shell could satisfy the classic intransigent metalhead looking for frenzied headbanging, yet an immense artistic sensitivity hidden beneath the stacks of granite riffs is always available for the more attentive listener. It is Tamás' heart, forever suspended between childhood memories, autumnal nursery rhymes, evocative folklore, and hallucinatory sci-fi.

It's easy to deduce that the author's native land has been a great source of inspiration, and in this, it might remind one of another great group from Eastern Europe, the Romanian Negura Bunget; but the parallels end there because where the Negura become true priests of tradition (complete with frock!) and chanters of a mysterious past, Thy Catafalque makes folklore travel through space and time, filters and transfigures it, in a sense transcending the very concept of tradition. Indeed, avant-garde.

But could it really be called "avant-garde"? Certainly, for the simple fact that Thy Catafalque, beyond belonging to the overly inclusive "metal" genre, doesn't resemble any other project and seems to pop out of the sideral void with a baggage of incredibly fresh, coherent, and above all "unique" ideas, dispensed with balance on both sides of the coin: from dizzying outbursts based on drum machine thrashings and ultra-mechanical guitar work ("Minden test fu", "Fekete mezok") to the outlandish space dances of "Trilobita" or "Kel keleti szél", through the monumental "Vashegyek", an indispensable twenty-minute marathon alternating visions of desolate lunar landscapes with harsh metal incursions; or, if you prefer a slightly more accessible way, there are the poignant folk breaks of "Ko koppan" and "Az eso, az eso, az eso", shadowy nursery rhymes smelling of wet earth… Wait a minute, weren't there only two sides to the coin?

Seeing the world through the eyes of a child and the brain of a semi-alien entity: that’s how I would summarize the poetics of Thy Catafalque, capable of combining so many moods with an admirable pursuit of sound experimentation without ever bordering on the pretentious or sickening.

A middle finger to those who try to make avant-garde metal but end up slobbering all over themselves with highly implausible solutions; a middle finger to the hordes of annoying beer-drinking folk metal bands that burn out their ideas halfway through a song; a middle finger to those who want to integrate new elements into their music but forget that what they are playing is, first and foremost, the damn metal.

4.5/5