Tronus Abyss
Kampf

Here I am again, I will try to write about this album by the legendary Tronus Abyss, an Italian band that musically came to life in the distant 1997 with the debut "The King of Angel in the Abyss," an album of symphonic Black Metal, and then continued to explore other extreme shores with "Rotten Dark," where BM merged with industrial and interesting and atmospheric medieval sounds.

The year 2003 arrives, and in magical Turin, our musicians give birth to this album that, personally, I consider a true gem of what they themselves define as "electro-apocalyptic" and martial folk of unique intensity. The recitative voice (sometimes clear and solemn, sometimes more canonically "Black Metal style") of Atratus revisits themes dear to European tradition, from myth to 20th-century history, philosophy in the broad sense, medieval mysticism, and even expressionist cinematography, all in a post-apocalyptic, nostalgic, and strongly visionary key. The dances start with Kampf, which gives the work its title. The hypnotic introduction immerses us into the decayed and semi-ruined universe of a continent that unveils "in front of us, balustrades and barbed wire," as recited by the voice of our druid priest. This perfectly sets the tone for what we are about to hear—the progression, needless to say, is martial but also unsettling and leaves us disoriented. The "frozen sunsets" described in the lyrics, if we close our eyes, appear before us in all their drama. Mabuse pays homage to Lang's famous and infamous character, a genius of evil, hypnotic and manipulative. The conceptual fabric continues from Kampf regarding the vision of a degraded humanity destroying itself to be reborn free from the dogmas and mental cages of the illusion of time; the sounds are exceptional and claustrophobic at first, ending with a melody, however, reassuring and gentle as it closes a piece that, even lyrically, is undoubtedly fierce. L'Eredità del Cinghiale continues its symphonic and poetic run with sounds that draw from experimentation that reminds me of a certain evocative pagan atmosphere of contemplation and prayer as a prelude to a battle, while remaining subdued and "calm." With Funeral, we enter a dimension already explored by our musicians—a sort of otherworldly sensation, feelings linked to the fear of cosmic darkness. The voice is sharp, and the background sound is chaotic, while at 4.10 minutes, a sweet and insistent melody intervenes, almost bringing everything back to balances that facilitate meditation. The piece then returns to the initial entanglement but for a short time; everything fades and goes silent. STH492 returns to visit the magical Middle Ages after a brief attack that seems to come from the previous piece, where everything, like the ancestral symbol of the ouroboros, has neither beginning nor end. Here we are, what I adore is Radio Europa; I love this creation madly, I consumed this beyond-piece. It takes me back to my pilgrimages on the battlefields of the Great War in Veneto, Trentino, and Venetia Julia, it accompanies me again through the avenues of the Monumentale in MI in search of the tombs of "my soldiers." I can't quite explain the reasons for these feelings, but I consider Radio Europa the ideal soundtrack for the beginning of the last, troubled century. I find the 20th century, especially its first 20 years, in these notes. One word, ADORABLE. Epilogo is a brief and "period" intermezzo that is well-placed within the framework of the work in question and that you will hear as the CD plays in the reader. Instead, I focus on Journey, which returns to explore the "deep space" with all that is enigmatic and threatening, but also fascinating, can reserve for the unsuspecting explorer. Atratus' voice is almost mechanized, truncates words, and seems to prophesize visions in arcane and unknown idioms if not to the initiates. This masterpiece closes with a reinterpretation (it would be really reductive to call it a cover) of Moti Ragnarokum by Burzum, contained in the first album from prison, the one about the death of Balder. What can I say? It is magnificent the way this piece is crafted, simply magnificent, I add nothing more, listen to it.

I close by saying that, in my opinion, there were two words missing here on this wonderful work, proudly a child of our beautiful country, the result of the ingenuity of this superb example of Art and Poetry that Tronus Abyss have managed—and continue—to be; whether it's musical diachronism or pure experimentation, I recommend listening to it without any doubt.