Love and Death and all points in between: Turin six-piece explore emotional terra incognita and look it up on the map of our world.
Dipped in classicism, this band’s albums excel in contextualizing ancient – or, rather, timeless – ideas within the reality of today, but if 2014’s "Odysséas" encased Homer’s scope in suitably epic melodic moves, the philosophical treatise of its follow-up is more aria-oriented. An a cappella invitation “Frammento” offering a mere hint of delights to follow and the remake of “Bambole” from the sextet’s second album measuring their maturity, there’s wider stylistic range on display now to disguise a political undercurrent of it all.
The Eastern dance of “Area 51” may imply aliens, albeit – after Italian is switched to Arabic for “Fahra” and Hebrew for “Qinah” – a different kind of alienation emerges. Peace as the record’s message, an inherent drama of it, so bittersweet in “Alla sinistra del mio petto,” can be soothed with a serenade of “Terra che brucia” where Riccardo Ruggeri’s tremulous voice and acoustic guitar lace pave the way to a heavy fugue, courtesy of three keyboard rigs that also infuse “Duro come la morte” with a Bach quote and a feverish folk dance, while the operetta of “Gli spiriti dei campi” finds its way to orchestral rock via a vibes-kissed jazzy bridge.
Once there, with Ray Thomas’ flute embroidering the darkly colored tapestry of “L’urlo nelle ossa” and Steve Hackett‘s guitar pouring tension into “Cielo di fuoco” to signal a finale, anxiety is transformed into serenity and, after a pregnant silence, a cello-stricken dirge. And it’s logical because even hope comes to pass; the music will stay, though.