Wobbler
Hinterland

"Tarots and the North" (twelve writings each paired with a Major Arcana by Luis Royo)

"VI. Temperance"

For several hours now, in the house of Cephalus, the voices of his many guests resonated. Socrates was deeply engaged in a dense conversation with Glaucon and Adeimantus, eager to discover the moral pillars upon which the ideal city was to rest, ensuring its harmony and perpetual functioning. Attempting to reach the essence of justice by exclusion, and having already identified wisdom and courage, the wise philosopher continued: “Temperance is a kind of order, a command imposed on certain passions and desires, which relates to that saying whereby, somehow, one could surpass oneself”. If we were to apply this very sharp definition to the more superficial, yet nonetheless interesting or pleasing, shores of the Scandinavian musical environment, I would be tempted to cite as an example of such virtue the Norwegian band Wobbler and particularly their 2005 debut "Hinterland".

The five have never made a secret of being inspired by the symphonic splendors of the "vintage" English scene, without however disdainfully rejecting the protection of tutelary deities Änglagård, first donning the medieval robes of Gryphon with the excellent "Afterglow" (released in 2009 but composed of pieces written ten years earlier) and then converting to the eclectic doctrines of Gentle Giant. Theirs, far from being considered sterile reproductions, seem rather like affectionate and conscious tributes in honor of the pioneers of progressive rock and certain flourishing experiments, examined and further developed by a young and ingenious group, quite capable of judiciously dosing the ingredients of delicate magical potions, avoiding being swept away by arrogance or falling prey to easy influences, as instead happened to their compatriots White Willow, who were sharply downsized after the splendid debut in 1995 and then pitilessly crumbled in the attempt to simplify a style structurally irreducible to catchy and adolescent canons.

“But isn't this expression 'surpass oneself' a bit funny? [...] It might also mean that in the same man there is a superior part and an inferior one, and when the first prevails, it's said that one 'surpasses oneself'. When, instead, due to improper education or bad company, the second takes over, it's said that one is 'inferior to oneself' and, because of this condition, intemperate”. It is extraordinary how the Platonic development of the previous quote is suitable to describe the diametrically opposite situations of both the formations mentioned above, united, in glory as in misfortune, by the presence of the busy keyboardist Lars Fredrik Frøislie, also dedicated to weaving the overly sweetened airs of The Opium Cartel.

He himself greets us with the sound of mellotron in the fabulous Norwegian "hinterland" ("Serenade for 1652"), leaving then to the energetic voice of Tony Johannessen the task of telling us the tale of a solitary traveler, lost in the maze of his own reflections and witness, during a long wandering, of acoustic serenades at the foot of imposing castles, daring rides following a keyboard hunting for ancient relics and contemplated advice referred by the wisdom of a traveling flute, in an epic story that rightfully conquers the peaks of the symphonic landscape of the new millennium ("Hinterland").

But the wonders do not end here for Martin Nordrum Kneppen's drum rhythmic forays reveal enchanted and eventful scenarios, in which Kristian Karl Hultgren, unmatched puppeteer, enjoys tormenting the singer, controlling the cadence of his penetrating verses with the bass strings ("Rubato Industry"), while elsewhere Morten Andreas Eriksen's guitar, having bid farewell to the piano, briefly gives a nod towards the austere Crimson Court before diving into a dizzying instrumental kaleidoscope, celebrating the fame of the past without becoming atrophied on it, in perfect Wobbler style ("Clair Obscur").

The same remarkable levels used to begin it also serve to close a work in some respects surprising, so much indebted to the great realms of the first progressive empire and yet skillful in articulating its own recognizable language, free from that grandiloquence that nails most of the more recent melodic realities. “So, if there ever is a City that can be said to surpass passions, desires, and even itself, this is ours [...] And, in view of that, shall we not also call it temperate?”. In the case of "Hinterland", I would say yes. Definitely yes.