Danteferno

Something weird was happening in Europe during the mid-’90s, namely a phenomenon that can be observed from the degradation of the thriving doom scene into a melting pot of goth, electronic, and modern influences. Peeking at Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride gives one set of circumstances, while observing Tiamat morph gradually away from metal entirely is just as interesting, if slightly less extreme than the metamorphosis of Ulver over the same period. Sadness should not be taken as a direct parallel to any of those bands, not least because they were less established than those aforementioned names, though the early material bears little resemblance to this second and final full-length, released not long before the band called it a day. Tiamat is the best reference point going in to the experience, although there is a lot of stuff blended together in a 45 minute package.

Experimentation was probably written on the studio wall when Sadness recorded Danteferno, so the eight songs each present different challenges to the listener, as well as varying attractions. There is no typical style or structure here, ideas coming and going song by song, even section by section, while the whole feels more than a little disjointed. For example, the determined riffing of ‘Tribal’ could easily have been something from Roadrunner Records’ catalogue in 1995, reminding me of Sepultura’s Chaos A.D. at medium pace; on the other hand, ‘Below the Shadows’ and especially ‘Aphrodite’s Thorns’ contain very little rock instrumentation, fitting more comfortably within the darkwave genre, which was beginning to blossom at a similar time. Compiling influences from the opening title track alone runs to great lengths: I can recognize features that remind me (either before or after the event) of Cradle of Filth, Fear Factory, Tiamat, Sepultura again, Paradise Lost, Tool, and even Korn, sometimes all at the same time. Many of those come from the varied vocal stylings of Steff Terry (who provides all the male vocals, sometimes accompanied by a female singer), though there are elements of those Roadrunner bands in the low, concrete slabs of guitar that have side-stepped around doom and are on the road to nu metal, while the keyboards do both choir effects and creepier piano lines, fluctuating between semi-decent gothic cheese and darker thoughts.

The only unifying thing about all the tracks is a certain kind of gothic absurdity that leads most of the subjects to the fringes of mainstream culture and sentiment. The outsider aesthetic is plentifully supplied in the heavier tracks, ‘Shaman’, ‘Tribal’, and ‘Talisman’ going vaguely spiritual, contrasting with the more overt goth tropes on the more atmospheric tracks already mentioned. What happens as a result, especially after the hodge-podge of the title track, is that I forget exactly what I’m listening to and get into the experience, since the transitions seem to be new chapters in a spiritual journey, where the main character struggles at times and is hurt, then endures the nightmares of anguish that come between. It’s worth remembering that, although heavily misspelt, Danteferno is almost certainly a reference to the 14th century Italian poem by Dante Alighieri The Divine Comedy (the first part of which is entitled Inferno), in which the protagonist ventures through Hell, Purgatory, and finally Paradise. ‘Delia’ even contains the lyrics “Divine comedy, life sniggers…Infinite orchestration”, so one cannot discount that the atmospheres should be symbolic of various stages on the journey. However, it’s difficult to say that the closing ‘Talisman’ is a representation of Paradise, because even accounting for the Sentenced-esque bittersweet melodies, the final lyrics leave little room for hope:

Spirits that ravage the sky and the earth
That ravage my dwelling
The crows are mocking holiness or possession
Curse them, curse beliefs and fanaticism.

Whatever Sadness might have done with Dante’s text, the album is an intriguing one that suffers only slightly from its unevenness. There are songs that most metal fans should approve of, such as the powerful ‘Talisman’ and ‘The Mark of the Eldest Son’, which contains probably the best progression in its length, though ‘Aphrodite’s Thorns’ will present problems for anyone afraid of dramatic female vocals/oration, since it is essentially performance poetry. I can't quite decide for myself if the gaps in style are a hindrance or an attraction for Danteferno, yet I should say I'm grateful for Lich Coldheart, who gave me this album to review for Secret Satan.