The Path Seldom Mortal Goes

Stereotypes rarely exist without some degree of truth being connected to them, and the prevailing cliche among bands hailing from the Italian peninsula playing in the symphonic power metal style is that it will necessarily be a Rhapsody (Of Fire) rip-off, or otherwise so heavily informed by the exploits of Turilli and Staropoli that it may as well be one. Arguably the most effective way in bucking such a stereotype would be to look like a Rhapsody, employ bombastic orchestrations like a Rhapsody, and even feature a soaring tenor vocalist like a Rhapsody, yet somehow come out sounding very little like said band. This is the path that has been taken by the obscure Italian act Mystic Twilight on their conceptual nod to all things knights and dragons The Path Seldom Mortal Goes, an album that employs all of the obligatory elements from the Rhapsody arsenal from the film score styled orchestrations to the shredding neo-classical guitar lines, but throw in some rather unconventional progressive elements and throw caution to the wind as they pen epic songs that seldom drop below the 6 minute mark.

There is definitely a strong rustic charm to an album of this persuasion, as it showcases the utter prowess of all the musicians involved while forgoing a lot of the niceties that many better known acts enjoy. Chief among these is the sort of posh production values that have generally graced Rhapsody Of Fire's albums since they departed the Limb Music roster, which Mystic Twilight lack in favor of something far more comparable to the working class mixing job that defined Legendary Tales. Truth be told, the production of this album listens far closer to something that Manowar might have put out in the mid 1980s, which is fitting given that this band's proclivity to writing similarly drawn out tales of heroics with loads of ballad-like interludes is about as obvious as a steel gauntlet to the face. No clearer representation of this could be made than the massive 15 minute song "The Council", which wheels through a heavy deluge of interludes fit for a full on book on tape, and has all the epic choirs and pomp to bridge the gap between Into Glory Ride and Symphony Of Enchanted Lands.

Having said all of that, this isn't a full on homage to Manowar, any more than it would be a complete Rhapsody Of Fire rip-off. There are select places spread throughout these songs where the instrumentation finds itself banging out oddball sections that wouldn't be out of place on a Dream Theater album, not to mention that the bass work tends to wander about merrily between sounding like Joey Demaio, Steve Harris and occasionally John Myung. This mixture of progressive influences is at its most blatant on the ironically shorter length song "Winds Of Uncertainty", which sees the whole band sort of frolicking around an assortment of rock, jazz and neo-classical elements while somehow managing to tie it all into their armor clad crusader persona. Even when things would seem to be leaning towards a purer power metal sound such as the chunky riff-driven "Dawns That Never Begin" or the drawn out conclusion with folksy and orchestrated balladry blaring "The Battle", there is this underlying progressive tilt that weaves in and out of the Manowar and Helloween influences.

One of the biggest problems in approaching an album this ambitious, let alone one that is so difficult to full categorize, is that it may well fly over the heads of its intended target audience. The average trustee of complex musicality as embodied in bands like Circus Maximus and Pagan's Mind are generally not accustomed to the sort of sword and shield exploits that this album conveys, and the likewise dragon obsessed power metal junkie may find an album of this type too convoluted to really grab onto, as hinted in the generally mixed reaction that Wind Rose's debut album Shadows over Lothadruin received when it was released a few years after this. It's likely a testament to this fact that this album stands as the only thing to be released by this project and that their current status is uncertain. Overall, it is a highly involved album that will be more of a grower for those patient enough to comprehend the endless games of notes that it's comprised of, and while the author of this review continues to be astounded by its complexity, he definitely understands why most will probably not take to it.

This review is dedicated to the memory of Christopher Santaniello, aka Diamhea. (R.I.P.)

Man, the odds sure seemed stacked against this thing being good. The band’s genre is “epic symphonic power metal?” Good luck getting that one right on the first try. Oh wait, the average song length is north of eight minutes, including an attempt at a 15-minute track? Sounds like epic symphonic progressive power metal to me, an even taller order for any inexperienced band to pull off. Throw in both an album cover and a production job that give The Path Seldom Mortal Goes—a title that isn’t even coherent English—the feel of a low-budget album from 25 years prior to its 2009 release date, and one would be forgiven for going into this thing expecting to give a “nice try guys, but you’ve got a whole lot of work to do” response.

But that is not the story of the sole product these guys ever put out, for The Path Seldom Mortal Goes surprisingly does justice to all of those genre adjectives on its way to becoming a strong and compelling listen. It’s a fascinating album, and a testament to how lo-fi production doesn’t necessarily sink a band with even the most epic of intentions.

This is a quite complex album, but really, the reasons it succeeds are quite simple: the music is well-written and interesting, and the performances are very strong. I’m not sure I’d call this power metal at all: it really is quite progressive, with very linear structures (think A-B-C-D-E-F rather than the A-B-A-B-C-B verse-chorus stuff) that twist and turn, changing tempo and instrumentation frequently within songs. Sections appear a maximum of twice in a song, and the vocal sections don’t even really sound like “verses” or “choruses” at all. There isn’t that sense of building to a repeated refrain, but rather one of just getting to the next step of the epic journey.

The trick with such linear and progressive songwriting is that everything has to be good—if even twenty percent of the ideas don’t really catch, the songs become undermined because the transitions start to seem really jarring and arbitrary. But though some ideas on here undeniably are better than others, the songs generally flow nicely, and ideas don’t really stay put for more than a few seconds anyway, so there’s rarely a full minute where nothing interesting happens.

As for the performances, they range from strong to quite heroic. Vocalist Lodovico Rossi leads the way with a flourishing, expressive performance, ranging from strong balladic midrange vocals to the kind of whistle-clean highs that Alessandro Conti is known for, and does a lot to tie this thing together. But he’s actually only responsible for maybe 70% of the vocals on this album, as the other 30% are done by a symphonic choir that filters in and out of every song. The choir parts aren’t the same sort of highlights as Rossi’s vocals, but they set the mood effectively and are well-executed. Rossi and the choir only sing together on a couple of occasions, which I wish they did a little more—one of the rare exceptions is what you might call the chorus of “Winds of Uncertainty,” which might be the best section on the whole album. Again, as this really doesn’t have a typical verse-chorus feel, Rossi’s vocals don’t sink into huge, obvious hooks as in a lot of power metal, but the melodies are thought-out and engaging nonetheless.

Rossi is nearly equaled by a particularly strong set of guitar solos from Giovanni Nardi, which come in at fairly judicious junctures but nearly always are highlights, providing a good union of technical mastery and melodic fit. Nardi’s riffs are less spectacular, especially as they’re seemingly buried under Danilo Fiorucci’s active bass about half of the time, but there are several moments where he puts together some strong rhythm work in the power and progressive realms as well. Fiorucci, as I just alluded to, is very high in the mix (it really does call back to that early-80s feel production-wise, where the instruments are all clear but lack modern sharpness), and he has some interesting moments, as does his rhythm section partner Niccolò Franchi. Keyboardist Gregorio Chiarione adds a diverse set of patches to the mix, highlighted by strong piano work, some dramatic string sections, and a couple of nice solo spots.

If there’s a weakness on the album that can’t be ascribed to its low recording and production budget, it’s that the band puts a slight overemphasis on slower balladic sections. Some of them are great, but they crop up a little too often, especially in the 15-minute epic “The Council,” which spends over half its runtime at a plod. There are a few occasions, especially on this track, where the band has a lot of momentum at a more typical pace, only to seemingly cut it off for no reason to return to balladry. Still, Rossi’s vocals often make these sections engaging, and there aren’t any pure ballads on here—every song brings symphonic bombast to at least a decent chunk of its runtime.

Though The Path Seldom Mortal Goes might initially seem destined for amateurish results, Mystic Twilight clearly boasts both a strong, ambitious, and inventive musical vision and the talent to carry it off well in spite of some significant production deficiencies for the style. It’s a path well worth journeying down.