sábado, 7 de mayo de 2022

VERTEBRA ATLANTIS

 


Origen: Italia, Lombardia

Formados: 2019

Estilo: Black experimental, death

Temática: Filosofía y misticismo

Enlaces: Bandcampdeezerfacebookinstagramsoundcloud y spotify

Miembros:

  • G.G. Bajo, guitarra, sintetizadores y voces
  • R.R. Batería y voces
Discografía:
  • Lustral Purge in Cerulean Bliss Full-length 2021

LUSTRAL PURGE IN CERULEAN BLISS (2021)
Primer larga duración para este trío italiano con miembro en sus filas veteranos ya en la escena extrema. Este primer álbum, por un lado nos muestra un sonido perfectamente elaborado, contundente y rico en matices, al mismo tiempo que por otro lado logra ofrecer elementos tanto del black/death metal como disonancias y secciones de atmosféricas. El álbum sale indemne de terrenos complicados de compaginar como pueden ser la mezcla casi que perfecta entre un death metal que no renuncia a cierta melodía pero que se muestra del todo competente cuando se mueve por terrenos plagados de disonancias, sin renunciar tampoco a un carácter abrasivo como resultado final. Por su parte el aporte de un black metal con tintes de sonido clásico, que no renuncia a ofrecer elementos más oscuros a la propuesta y por supuesto con un componente atmosférico que muchas veces cobra protagonismo hasta ocupar un espacio predominante en el sonido del álbum. Un álbum que también sabe sacar partido a desarrollos extensos, que sin llegar a terrenos progresivos, logran hacer que los temas fluyan desde secciones más ambientales, hasta que poco a poco se adentran en un sonido mucho más extremo y pesada. Podemos hablar de una batería completa, tanto en la contundencia cuando es requerida, como cundo se muestra más dinámica en su faceta más ambiental, al mismo tiempo que la riqueza del apartado vocal con un tono death muchas veces predominante, aunque no se duda a la hora de ofrecer un tono más oscuro y etéreo para mayor diversidad a la hora de completar esta apartado en el álbum. En definitiva un álbum de sonido un tanto inclasificable, sobre todo a la hora de describir la variedad tanto de registros como de intensidades presentes en el mismo. (8,4).





1. Agoraphobic Solipsist 06:01
 There aren’t truths in matter. My eternal wandering on this land is a desert, towards which I fall in flight from my flash. A hoarse voice, older than being, detaches me from my senses; in my second life I run... I run against that bygone litany, far from the visceral churning. Now I am a fragment, a reflection that twists on itself. Now I see Cronus’ incessant alacrity, poison searing in the arteries; the constant, repeated persistence of self; the cardiac vertigo, even the very vibration of the frames of reality, as in a liquid painting that exists, in unstable balance... On the verge of collapse, enjoying the thrill of the everlasting thwarted fall.
From atop the most harrowing vertigo, I contemplate with desperate sentience, chimeras unveiling and disclosing; salvific hallucinations unravel, among the crystalline clouds of unknowing whereat I let myself fall.
2. Carnal Denouement 05:03
  I reawaken twisted in myself, in a hostile painting. My flesh writhes, cracks, melts. Each cell like gypsum, and then sand, in a body crusher. Pain sublimates itself in a cathartic abandon . Hallucinations and vertigo followed one another, although my eyes cried abundant blood, imprisoned in nailed lids, searing magmatic shrouds.
While elder aeons unveiled themselves to my sight, my vertebrae arched, breaking and slivering; their splinters pierced me and in a mute grimace my heels joined my neck. I can’t breath, and in a silence, which my muffled shrieks would like to fill, I glimpse sulphurous liquid clouds around me, engulfing me in their obscure cloak. Looming over my mangled remains, they formed arches and vaults, which widen more and more reaching the distant plateaus.
While with vain efforts I try to separate my lips , I observe some purple fumes coming out of it mirroring those vapors that previously overwhelmed me. A chilling northern wind blows through them, pushing a hoarse pulse, among which I see a discern voice: The aforesaid voice, thus speaks “In human form you are not allowed here”.
3. Lustral Purge in Cerulean Bliss 06:14
Through delirium and mystery, fleeting borders lie all around. The earth slips under my feet, wrapping them in mud while the winds ravage and sharpen this boundless plain. I detect the streaming flow of the rivulets like veins’ turbid emissaries. Now they channel their flows towards valleys, invigorated by incessant rains. But the basin where these scents pour has become the color of blood. Whenever I have tried to succumb to the shade of hidden firs I’ve been overwhelmed by merciless floods; the cold of thousands winters: illusion of the immeasurable time; the dark of eternity, inhabits of gods’ deception. The rain, which became hail and then turned into silent snow, buried me in the extraordinary silence of this refuge in the middle of nowhere. I implore this austere land to disclose its desires and its vice, and now I see the profound secret of my sin of being. Delirium of bodies, ferment of void. Harmony in everything, symphony in nothingness. The moment I perceive the core, tumult of being, the ethereal paths expire in the smoky aether, collapsed in void. There is everything in the absence of nothing.  
4. Altopiano Celeste 07:22   instrumental
5. Spiritual Onset 04:21
   A crackle could be heard, in the distance: the sound of dry leaves creaking as they burn. The naked ice crunched and shattered while the breeze blew as a gentle embrace. Formerly he had envisioned mysterical maelstroms and otherworldly darkness and radiance. In that surreal stillness, a glow of an albeit timid fire was an irresistible call in that frozen hellscape. He made his way through the fir’s branches (led by complete abnegation), grazing them with his numb fingers, unable to suffer the innumerable splinters cuts. Like stoic watchers, the moons were still reflecting their radiance on the thick snow blanket of the boundless taiga. When he finally found himself in the flesh lying moribund next to a bonfire, the quiet revealed its plans: his true self in fact, before he expired, was intent on predicting an absurd future in which he would have met him as a specter in that same place, after the thaw.
6. Saw Thee Quietly Inurned 05:10
 I saw thee quietly inurned by expert but decrepit hands. And yet the bora came to disperse the ashes before they reached the casket. The hermit contemplated astonished the transience of the powders, that had once generated and nourished an entire existence, now merging with the aether. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi! But then the astonishment became pain, the pain refusal. His gaze tore through the infinite, his shoutings pierced every hollow to the center of the Earth. And after the bora came the mistral. The winds ceased and was the lull. Seasons followed one another. And that day forgotten, that echo vanished and sorrow dispersed. Knelt, with clasped hands he sighed: “Cupio dissolvi... Cupio dissolvi!”
7. The Hermit Strums a Mournful Dirge 08:03
 (Adapted from Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Duino Elegies”)

In the end, those torn from their life too early no longer need us: we wean ourselves from what is earthly, gently, as from the womb. But we, who need such great conundrums, how often blissful progress springs from grief: could we ever be, us, without the dead? The eternal flow always carries us within the two realms, for ever... And drowns our voices in both.
  42:14







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