Tony Wakeford
La Croix

Sometimes I have the impression that Tony Wakeford acts like those shady entrepreneurs who open and close companies just to gather funds or carry out scams and sleazy deals.

Thus, the business name changes, but not the substance: "La Croix," released in 1993, is Tony Wakeford's first solo album, but today, as then, we wonder what the dark reason was for this album not being released under the name Sol Invictus.

Especially since Wakeford has always had total control over his project, in which he can do and undo as he pleases, while this work lacks those elements of stylistic diversification that would have justified the name change on the cover.

As you might have guessed, "La Croix" differs very little from any other work of Sol Invictus, except for the presence of long instrumental tracks that anticipate the symphonic ambitions of L'Orchestre Noir, a project that would come to fruition in the second half of the nineties.

Recorded in France with the help of French musicians, “La Croix” thus boasts the sound of a piano, two violins, a viola, a cello, a double bass, a horn, a flute, and even a female voice; but in the midst is him, Sir Wakeford, there's his voice, his guitar, there's his unwavering artistic vision that we could hardly imagine being different. We could reproach many things about Wakeford, but not his lack of consistency, and "La Croix" is no exception: it is apocalyptic folk, baby!

As it happens in most Sol Invictus albums, "La Croix" also respects the circular scheme, where the title-track, first in instrumental version, then sung, has the task of opening and closing the work (even if to break the scheme there is in fact a ghost-song, excellent by the way, where Wakeford duets with Nathalie Mathoulin, before the theme of the title-track comes to life again).

Mind you, "La Croix" is a good album, elegant, refined, conceptually compact like few other times Sol Invictus have managed to be. And we can add that among the seven tracks present here, there are two pieces that deservedly can be placed among the great classics of the entire production of Wakeford: "The Fool" and "Come the Horsemen", two apocalyptic ballads with so-called  counter-punches, which will not coincidentally be performed live well concealed in the official repertoire of the parent band.

These are also the two most typically Sol Invictus tracks, and they stand out in the desolate scenario of an album composed mainly of atmospheric tracks, where the battered strings dominate, the insistent winds, and the unwavering acoustic guitar of chubby Wakeford, often emphasizing the stylings of an ancestral folk.

It's as if Wakeford wanted to create an evocative soundtrack for legendary sagas, heroic deeds, impossible loves of brave knights and chaste maidens. It's the troubadour soul of Wakeford that dominates: "La Croix" is a journey into the past, in a world now lost and forever pursued. A more twilight Wakeford, if you will, less belligerent, less pissed off than elsewhere; a less impetuous music, but deeply tragic, suffered and obviously apocalyptic, if by apocalypse we mean the usual fantastic scenarios painted by Wakeford's fervent imagination: those endless expanses of damp meadows, bare hills, sad ruins, and majestic woods admired from a bird's eye view amidst the thick clouds of a grey sky threatening storm. Probably the end of the world.

Overall, the album is certainly very evocative and flows pleasantly, although we can criticize Wakeford for the flaw of not having the stature of a classical composer; and it's no coincidence that the major signs of the work's collapse can be found in the prolixity of certain passages where the instruments linger excessively on very banal themes, and where, moreover, there is not a great deal of work in terms of arrangement (the trusty David Mallor, even on the piano, lends a hand in crafting it all, without however affecting the uncompromising imprint left by Wakeford).

"La Croix" is obviously recommended to all die-hard fans of Sol Invictus, and in particular to those who love albums like "In the Rain" and "In the Garden Green". For those who expected something different, "La Croix" will not offer many surprises, just as "Cupid & Death", from 1996, the other solo work of the nineties, will not offer surprises either, with which this "La Croix" makes a pair.