Zao
The Funeral Of God

THE REVIEW

"God is dead, this is his funeral. Soundtrack by Zao".

Zao is a band that demands respect. If I had to point out the right attitude one should have towards them, it would be exactly this: respect. Or at least, that's the effect they've had on me. Zao deserves respect because they are pioneers of the Christian metal movement. They are pioneers of music as a social commitment (just go back in time a bit to rediscover it, the current control gave way to furious restlessness). They are pioneers of the hardcore movement. They are pioneers, period.

Zao deserves respect because they were perhaps the most effective band in resurrecting melodic Carcassian death metal and blending it with heavy doses of new school hardcore, winking at emo here, at the "emotional metalcore" school there, which has greatly contributed to the success of immense bands like Shai Hulud and Poison The Well. And then the singer Dan is a god (tell me he doesn't seem like Jeff Walker in a hardcore version). Zao deserves respect because they're called "Zao" and have managed to leave a mark with such a name. Back then, a band with such a name would've been buried under tons of molten dung long before I listened to it. Then scruples prevailed, and after a few listens, the initial disdain turned into veneration. Quite something, especially since these guys have so much charisma that they managed to overcome my prejudices, yeah, if I listen to a band called Zao, it means they really know their stuff. If I don't even listen to Toto because I hate that name, am I dumb.

Zao deserves respect because they wrote a wonderful album and titled it "The Funeral Of God": it's a Christian concept. Strange, right? But why is that strange? When we say goodbye to God, we make the sign of the cross; if the neighbor's son was guillotined, I wouldn't make a "zack!" with my hands every time I greet her, hehe! But the death of God is the meaning of its existence, because then he resurrects, to live again, this time forever. God is dead today: in people's hearts, in crashing planes, in the eyes of a woman thrown on the street, in the tears of a child retrieved from a dumpster. God is dead: and Zao organizes a magnificent, turbulent, violent funeral rich with subtle melancholy. "The Funeral Of God" is a great album, let's clear up any doubt. The much-troubled hardcore here gives way to a style owing much to American melodic death and beyond, almost as if to emphasize violence that is now one with lyrics written by a skilled hand. Yes, this time they are angry. And you can feel it.

The guitar riffs become sickly. One opens Breath of the black muse but dissipates into a rough, destructive ride, where Stephen Peck's drums wonder what they did to deserve such (brutal) treatment, while Dan Weyandt officiates the celebration, winking at the unforgettable Carcass, gesturing to Poison The Well, then showing how he's not winking at anyone at all. Yeah, his voice, his majestic way of singing, is all his own. It seems Dan vomits his soul onto the microphone, seems to hurl curses with a lived-in voice, and maybe he does both; but when his voice relaxes, the initial storm turns into a slightly rough sea, where the compactness of riffs marries a linear pace, with breaks leading to nervous assaults, and the listener's ears seem to reach a dimension of mystical peace. Here the keyword is variety. If you want an example, here is The rising end: the riffs are of a rare roughness, typically hardcore in their roots, but expertly united with the classic melodic death, and (most importantly) a melody oozing from every distortion. Then a break comes, and they seem to willfully assault their poor instruments, accompanied by Dan, who seems to be venting after a nasty fight. Then fragmented timing overlaps, making it difficult to follow, but trying is an indescribable pleasure. Thus, episodes become more cunning, others more violent, others exquisitely dramatic (The lesser lights of heaven, among the lot's best episodes).

And here melancholy pours out, tears flow from their hearts. It's surprising to think that from initial violence, you reach this point: almost like a descending arc, anger dissipating and burning like a straw fire, turning into nostalgic resignation tinged with a yearning for hope. Now, why do I say Zao deserves respect? Because they are literally UNIQUE in managing such a vast range of emotions, combining it surgically with every musical influence that can aid their purpose, and they seem to stand apart from the songs they themselves created. In short: if they are violent, they never yield to violence; if they are melancholic, they never yield to melancholy, but remain superior, and when least expected, they introduce tempo changes and riffs that shatter the delicate initial harmony. This doesn't make them seem merely credible; it makes them a perfect antithesis to bands that fall victim to their emotions and slide into the pathetic. Not Zao; they're cold and sublimely perfect musicians, hitting the target dead center without adding a word. Wonderful. And then they wrap things up first with a light instrumental prelude, an evolution of arpeggios and paradisiacal atmosphere, which slowly supported by the drums makes you want to shed a tear.

And then, the grand finale: Psalm of the city of the dead. Few lines of text and few riffs for a song over 8 minutes long. Essence. And it's a clean voice, almost choral, almost a cry of hope for the rebirth of that God of whom, at this moment, they are celebrating the funeral. The word is entrusted to the music, gentlemen: the circle closes, and mental confusion reigns supreme after this wonderful journey. Try it because you're worth it. "The lesser lights of heaven are burning towards a dream. . .".

I've never been so happy to attend a funeral.