Tony Wakeford
Into The Woods

Tony Wakeford sets aside his Sol Invictus for a moment and embarks on a solo journey. What seemed to be a reflective pause meant to gather strength and recompose the main project (torn by continuous defections) turns out to be something with a well-defined purpose.

It's as if Wakeford sheds his thunderous and sonorous persona to establish a more intimate and calm connection with the listener. Let's be clear: Wakeford, as prolific as he is, remains an artist irreducibly true to himself and his artistic vision, and those who know him understand well that the fruits of his mind and heart won't fall far from the tree. In a sense, however, Wakeford manages to surprise me this time. On the band's website, they even talk about "Traditional Folk/Folk Noir with elements of 70's prog and psychedelia." As for me, I had already heard some tracks from "Into the Woods" during Sol Invictus's recent Italian tour, and the impression was that our hero's path had definitely oriented towards an ever less apocalyptic folk more tied to English folk tradition. The presence on the album of a fairy like Kris Force and that mad court jester Andrew King, who seems to have appeared from some forgotten era, couldn't help but make us think of a hasty escape from modernity.

In fact, Wakeford returns armed with synths and samplers and delivers his most "synthetic" work in years. It's still folk (the violin of Renée Rosen, already in Sol Invictus, and Guy Harries' flute are there to remind us), but the use of synths, looping vocals, and various effects bring us back to certain experiments that the apocalyptic minstrel practiced at the start of his career. The ever-present acoustic guitars are this time placed in the background.

Certainly dominating the work is the atmosphere, and those esoteric settings that have always appeared here and there in Sol Invictus's works emerge today with greater strength: in the form of ethereal warbles, airy keyboards, and various chimes, they contribute to creating a magical dimension, a melancholic, twilight music, "full of presences." And precisely in the alchemy of keyboards and effects (including vocal ones), we can find the psychedelic influences flaunted in the presentation above, while as for the prog elements, if we really want to see them, the interplay of acoustic guitar, synth, and flute might recall in some way the ghost of the glorious Canterbury scene, although, personally, I wouldn't go that far. The flute, in fact, sparkles beautifully, while the rhythms become at times pressing, but from here to Caravan runs a distance. After all, Wakeford's restless soul couldn't peacefully settle on the chirping English countryside. "Into the Woods," rather, is the rest of a traveler who decides to pause and cradle himself in the intimacy of a shady grove. A grove that truly conceals mysterious forces, night spirits, whispers in the silence.

It is a magical album "Into the Woods," a gem that can refresh us during those sultry summer evenings. In just over forty minutes, Wakeford manages to condense ideas and insights that likely did not have the chance to find space in Sol Invictus's hardcore sound. But the artist's hallmark is evident throughout the entire work, whether it’s hypnotic electronic progressions ("A Saint in Roseland"), quirky ballads ("A Small Town in Germany"), lively medieval nursery rhymes ("The London Hanged"), or melancholic lullabies with a ritual flavor ("Take the Steps"). Undoubtedly noteworthy is the captivating title track, the most lively moment of the lot, at times truly prog, and the compelling "Down the Road Slowly," one of those folk pieces with a high epic rate to be sung boldly aloud, with chest puffed and fist swirling in the air.

To finally get everyone in line, there is the wonderful "The Devil Went a Travelling," fittingly placed at the close (before the inevitable reprise of the title track). This piece brings us back to the boldest and damn apocalyptic Sol Invictus: it’s a sad journey for Tony, who smiles at us in the interior booklet photo but apparently walks down the sunset path with a melancholic and measured step. But in this song, opened by vigorous drum rolls and carried by monolithic acoustic guitar arpeggios, finally back to the forefront, Tony reminds us that despite everything he has not yet surrendered: the keyboards crumble into metaphysical whirlwinds, the words are lost in distant echoes, but Tony remains steadily at the helm, an eternal rebel against his condition of defeat.

His struggle continues undeterred, even today, but for this once, let's let him rest. In a cozy bed of dry leaves, in the midst of a dense forest, by the warmth of a small bonfire. "The devil said my boys, All good things must end, Here am I far from home, No soul and no friend..."