A Closer Listen
Halloween is still more than two months away, but it arrives early on this release. Considering the fact that Christmas flyers are already landing in our mailboxes, it seems fair game. Not everyone is a child of summer, and this album allows listeners to celebrate their inner darkness. The presence of Satan on the cover (or one of his friends) only highlights the fact that the album was born from Until Riots founder Francesco Leali‘s obsession with cults and cultish behavior, a topic made all the more relevant these days by the expansion of such ideas to political movements.
Don’t be fooled by the primitive art: this is in fact a deep and disturbing album, with tracks such as “A Beast, A Coven” and “Wear Her Skin.” This is not, however, a caricature of the cultish scene, but an attempt to capture its mood. The title, Let Us Descend, holds echoes of Dante’s Inferno, while also referencing the classic black and white horror films of the 1960s. In one such film, a woman keeps hearing voices beneath the floorboards of her hotel room and eventually decides to check it out; she descends a set of stairs, and discovers a coven.
In true horror fashion, the set begins with subtle, unnerving cues. The presence of Alessandro Branca (cello and double bass) and Vito Gatto (violin and viola) makes a huge difference in the tone. In the early going, one could mistake the album for a work of blended drone and modern composition, just as one could mistake the hotel for something benign. One wants to dismiss the suggestion that something dark is going on beneath one’s feet, but in “The Low Expanse,” the bass turns so low, joined by static and the sound of fire, that one can no longer ignore it. And then the chortle of electronics, still not overt, but emerging. In “Vendova,” the percussion begins to break through, like vampires through a wall.
The threat level increases along with the electronics. The real danger is not being killed by a cult, but becoming one of them. “Coven” marks the point of no return. Dark rumbling blasts are joined by ritualistic percussion and eerie chants. There’s no going back up the stairs; there’s no unseeing what has been seen, or unhearing what has been heard. The desperation is palpable. Should one pretend to capitulate, knowing that the alternative may be serving as a sacrifice? it has been said by many people who have attempted to escape cults, the most recent being Scientology, that they fear ostracism, blackballing and admitting that they have been fooled. For a brief moment at the end of “Wear Her Skin,” there is sadness, regret. But soon even that is swept away.
The blasts of “Perish Belief I Succumb to You” are like the microphones of despots. There is more than one way to join a cult. Leali may have envisioned the album as horror, but it may end up as history. (Richard Allen)
Wed Aug 28 00:01:03 GMT 2024