Virgin Black
Requiem - Mezzo Forte

Virgin Black may be more renowned to the public for their association with the so-called Christian Metal (also known as White Metal), a musical movement that aims to reveal to regular listeners the true essence of God, without any kind of filter by ecclesiastical hierarchy. It already boasts many proponents and followers in the world, not because they have released two excellent albums so far, small and obscure masterpieces of doom named "Sombre Romantic" and "Elegant... and Dying," birthed from the genius minds of the two masterminds Rowan London and Samantha Escarbe.

Now, four years after the release of their last album and having signed a contract with the revived Massacre Records, we see them emerge once more from the dark depths of their native land, faraway Australia (which has already offered several doom gems), to announce to the world they have created a grandiose work, structured like a Requiem Mass and divided into three parts, which will be released one after the other in 2007. The first ("Requiem - Pianissimo") will solely highlight the classical aspect of the band's sound, while the third ("Requiem - Fortissimo") will be totally, or almost entirely, free from symphonic arrangements, steering towards death-doom territories. What we know about the trilogy at this moment is the central chapter, "Requiem - Mezzo Forte," the one most similar to the Virgin Black's previous works.

Those who have already listened to them probably have a rough idea of what to expect from these seven long and harrowing episodes. On the other hand, those unfamiliar with them will undoubtedly be bewitched by the scope of such a release and the technical mastery of the rich cast of the work. The two undisputed leaders: Rowan London, an excellent pianist and Pavarotti-esque tenor with innate theatricality, and Samantha Escarbe, a blonde and slender guitarist who wields painful picks and harrowing solos and, when the occasion calls for it, does not shy away from wielding the bow to give voice to the moan of her cello. Their loyal aides: Dino Cielo, a martial and precise drummer, Craig Edis, Samantha's consenting sidekick, and Ian Miller, with his bass often relegated to the background but essential for carving grooves in the doomiest corners of the platter, as per the English tradition of the early '90s. The guests: Susan Johnson, a surprising and celestial soprano, the mixed choir that raises liturgical ovations to the sky, and all the instrumentalists of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, who assist in creating a funereal and tangible ambiance in its violent spasm.

Classic themes wander placidly on the notes of violins, violas, and cellos and dominate much of the album to gradually merge with Samantha’s grating riff, even darker than in old My Dying Bride, even more suffering than in early Anathema, whose reverberation is amplified by the presence of background choirs. In the clean vocals, London loads himself with tension and seemingly launches, heedlessly, poisoned arrows into the listener's heart, while, on rare occasions, his growl devastates any semblance of purity (wisely embodied by ethereal Susan or the subdued piano) with its catacombal tone. The pinnacle of such grandeur is the central episode "...And I am suffering," eleven apparently endless minutes in which emotions, cries, caresses, torments, drops of blood and sweat, gothic visions, colors, and contrasts unfold. But also the growing intensity of "Midnight's Hymn" (a revisitation of "Drink the Midnight's Hymn" from their debut), the exasperated and grim metallic advance of "Domine" (at times severed by sinister string and choral appearances), as well as the Mozartian metallic litany of "Lacrimosa (I am blind with weeping)," will secure for themselves a significant space during the introspective and spiritual journey of "Requiem - Mezzo Forte."

It certainly won't represent a major innovation in the world of music, nor will it make a commercial splash (despite Virgin Black making the Paradise Lost of "Gothic" seem like novices); but this is not what "Requiem - Mezzo Forte" desires, a work meant to be perused slowly, savored in its entirety and in a liturgical, solitary, introspective, and internal dimension, a funerary masterpiece of titanic proportions, destined for a few. A graceful virgin adorned with only black roses playing hide and seek in the labyrinths of the soul, an icy breath flowing through the veins to reach the vital organ and enclose it in its grip, a pendulum clock marking humanity's final hours, an anthem of apocalyptic chants, raised to the empyrean by a solitary soul in the last breath preceding the solemn hour. Only the movements of the heart (and the soul, for those who will embrace its religious perspective) of those who will let themselves be engulfed by the all-encompassing allure of the album will provide the appropriate response to a band that now can only be considered rare and unreachable in its lugubrious splendor.