Origen: Nueva Zelanda, Christchurch
Formados: ?
Estilo: Black atmosférico
Temática: Historia de Escocia e Irlanda y mitología celta
Enlaces: Bandcamp, deezer, facebook, instagram, spotify y youtube
Miembros:
- Harrison McKenzie Bajo, guitarra y voces
- Quentin Forster Batería
Discografía:
- An Torr Demo 2021
- Something in the Way Single 2021
- An Gorta Mór, Pt. I Single 2022
- An Gorta Mór CD 2022
- Greyfriars Kirkyard Single 2023
- Isobel Single 2023
- In the Land of Ghosts CD 2023
- Cearwylm & Misneachd Split 2024
AN GORTA MÓR (2022)
Interesante primer larga duración para esta one man band neozelandesa que pone en escena un black de corte atmosférico, con un estilo frío y oscuro sin enrevesamientos innecesarios. Harrison se las arregla para crear un sonido abrasivo muchas veces, que tiene como punto de partida las sencillez de su propuesta, sencillez que se muestra en los riffs crudos y precisos, en una batería a veces poderosa que se muestra dinámica cuando la ocasión lo precisa, unas voces crudas y abrasivas y ciertos arreglos, digamos que de corte ambient y folk que van salpicando las composiciones a modo de nexo entre las mismas. El resultado es un álbum que abarca muchas facetas y planos pero que logra al mismo tiempo sonar conciso y concreto, con un estilo que lo acerca a bandas consagradas del género, aunque Harrison se sirve por un lado en lograr un sonido que podemos calificar como clásico en cuanto a influencias, en una dicotomía entre un primitivo black metal y la crudeza presente en las composiciones, partiendo todo ello desde la sencillez de un riffs que funciona como hilo conductor a lo largo de cada tema, el cual se ve rodeado tanto de una ambientación y atmósfera heladora, aspectos que se ven acentuados por el trabajo vocal, que se adentra casi que de forma abrasiva en terrenos oscuros, ofreciendo un tono justo y correcto en el apartado de batería que trabaja aspectos más sombríos pero necesarios para dar coexistencia al conjunto, sin olvidarnos por supuesto de los arreglos de guitaras limpias o sonidos folk que logran que el álbum a pesar de tener procedencia neozelandesa, logre sumergirnos en las profundidades de el paganismo y misticismo celta. (7,6)
1. An Gorta Mór (Part I) 04:41
The darkest hour, where fields reap blight
The endless hunger, and blackened skies
A land of rot, where children wither
And mother’s weep, a countless sorrow
Hearts grow faint
And hope decays
The failure of a God
The plough drags on the bones of the fallen,
The blood seeps to the soil of poison.
Scorned wretches of what used to be human,
Pale faces in a shroud of torment.
A vulgar curse, on blackened shores
A time for death, to claim what’s hers
Diseased and starved, a brewing corpse
Left for dead, on farms of ash
The stench of decay
Abandoning faith
Hunger spreads to the edge of the isle,
Disease rampant and the rations vile.
Walking corpses their souls are abandoned,
By a god that leaves children in famine.
The island rots while the people starve,
The crows feast on the Holocaust of celts.
Ashes fall on the hopeless soil,
Removing families from this mortal coil.
2. Knockdoe 03:31
Knockdoe!
The slaughter field
A bloodied sky
Where Gaels die
Upon the hill
The hill of axes
Armies stand
United clans
Gallowglass
Axe in hand
Charging forth
Through arrow’s rain
Armies clash
Hellish screams
Tearing flesh
Countless death
Now the cairns are stacked
High upon the hill
Now the land has changed
Gone the gaelic age
Now the old ways die
And gods fall the heel
Now the days turn grey
Gone the way of celts
3. Children of Lir 05:52
Upon the lake
Under light of moon
The swans sing
Songs of great sorrow
Restless they wait
For the curse to end
Innocent
Condemned to exile
Cast out
On their own
With no place
To call home
Cursed hand
The witch had played
900 years
Doomed to wait
As the nights
Grow more cold
Still they roam
With hope they shiver
With human voice
They wail at night
Through lonely centuries
All friends have died
Discarded
Left to roam
The lonely lands
Year after year
Wandering
With no return
To the hall of gods
Til the bell is rung
And in the end
A new god comes
To the Celtic lands
And the old gods fall
Baptised
By a holy man
They return to form
Withered they die
4. Connla’s Fate 08:08
Connla, child of Cuchulain
Born to Aoife, of beauty and steel
Spawned from battle, his cruel fate awaits
From the land of Gods,
Connla made haste.
Down to Ulster,
Where his father awaits.
Cursed with gaesa, three which were laid
When his journey begins, never shall he return
No challenge shall be refused, to no man shall he give his true name
When connla refused
To give the king his name
Many warriors were sent
To force Connla’s hand
Cuchulain was called
To see to this young man
But still he refused
To give his true name
And so the spears were called
And mightily they clashed
But Connla gave way
And fell to his fate
So began
Cuchulain‘s great lament
He cursed Aoife’s name
And went to the waves
The Ulster men were called
To say their farewells
And Connla was laid to rest
Killed by his father’s hand
5. A Dying Land 05:53
There is a fading light
Upon the valleys and rivers
A whisper of hope
A desperate plea of life
Beneath a falling sky
Upon great mountains of old
A soil of rot
And a land of blight
Cut down in the land we call home
Starved and left to die here alone
Hunger thrives in the absence of hope
Death waits upon these shores -
A dying land
There is an absence of life
And the gravestones grow
Farmers reap empty fields
And only the crows feast
Even kings rot on their thrones
And many sleep to never awake
Kingdoms fall to the will of dirt
Nature brings all to heel -
A dying land
This is our home
We die alone
The sun turns black
And the fields don’t grow -
A dying land
6. Celtic Sorrow 04:32
Never ends
The tales of loss
Always still
Death is near
Kingdoms grow
Then fall to dust
Sweeping snow
Beats on stone
And still it holds
The endless sorrow
I lie in wait
For the pain to end
I scour the fields
Where my kin lay dead
I watch the stars
And see them fade
I roam the forest
And speak with ghosts
How celts have suffered
And known no less
In the black of night
Even sirens cry
In the halls of kings
Our heroes rest
Upon shadowed lands
The old ones roam
And still it holds
The promise of death
And all they know
Celtic sorrow
7. An Gorta Mór (Part II) 06:40
Still it lingers, the stench of famine
And the sorrow of celts remains
A land in ruin, cut down from the blight
And the weight of guilt to have lived
Ashamed of life, devoid of hope
We walk alone on scattered bones
Our fallen kin, with stolen souls
Dead and nameless they lay
an Gorta Mór
Robbed of life
A great unrest
Buried by time
an Gorta Mór
A tainted land
A world turned black
In rotting fields
an Gorta Mòr
an Gorta Mòr
39:17
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