Saudações leitores do Labirintos do Ser!

Em minha primeira postagem de 2013 apresento a lendária banda grega1 de Death Metal Sinfônico Septicflesh. Formada em Atenas, no ano de 1990, conta na sua formação clássica Sotiris Vayenas (guitarra e vocais limpos) e os irmãos Christos Antoniou e Spiros Antoniou (respectivamente guitarra e baixo e vocal áspero/gutural). Entre 1991 e 1998 essa formação manteve-se estável. Nos anos de 1997 e 1998 foi acrescentada a vocalista Natalie Rassoulis, de sólida formação lírica. Formado em composição erudita, Christos Antoniou é o principal eixo desse grupo bastante coeso, coordenando a alquimia entre elementos clássicos, étnicos e a base propriamente rockeira, que consiste no Death, o Black e o Dark Metal. Em outubro de 2003 o grupo se separa, cada um desenvolvendo seus projetos. No início de 2007,é anunciada a reunião do Septicflesh. A temática lírica está calcada na mitologia grega, egípcia, sumeriana e na ficção de H. P. Lovecraft, além do ideário ufológico sobre os chamados "deuses astronautas". Ao mesmo tempo inquietações contemporâneas sobre os rumos incertos de nossa sociedade estão presentes. Desse modo, desde o primeiros EP e Full-length até o último álbum (The Great Mass, de 2011) temos a nossa frente uma obra vigorosa e feita com paixão.

Conforme salientei acima, trata-se de uma trajetória musical consistente. Todavia, considero os quatro primeiros cds excepcionalmente criativos. Os dois álbuns seguintes (Revolution DNA, 1999 e Sumerian Daemons 2003) mantém o padrão de qualidade, agregando toques eletrônicos e industriais. Comunion (de 2008, que sacramenta a reunião da banda) e The Great Mass, resgatam o espírito dos primeiros trabalhos, com maior ênfase no Death metal.

Lamentavelmente, como tantos outras obras essenciais, nunca foram lançados por estas plagas. Selecionei também algumas canções e respectivas letras para dar uma visão geral do trabalho do grupo neste período. Assim espero proporcionar alguns momentos de devaneio e prazer sonoro e como grande admirador da cultura helênica, faço votos de que o povo grego possa se reerguer e enfrentar de cabeça erguida os momentos dramáticos pelo qual está passando.

1. Remeto a uma postagem antiga: Sete bandas Gregas de Heavy Metal.

Crescent Moon

The sand beneath your feet
a yellow carpeting
the palace of wilderness
Only king and servant is you
searching for the pyramid
that guards the emerald board

It was a crescent moon
when you have been initiated
in the science of the black earth,
And the optimism of youth
pushed you in quests
into the paper worlds
of the libraries of Cairo

Crescent Moon
Two sides of the same coin
The poor in mind are satisfied
with what they see

Crescent Moon
And they bear the sign of imperfection
because they miss the other side
the invisible

Crescent Moon
Few words carved with diamond
could draw the curtains
that cover the glassy cage of senses
The warm touch of the starlight
(magnes) will be the proof
and the philosopher's stone your trophy

Grab the golden rope and climb
the imaginary walls of your thoughts
you may fall but at least you'll have tried

The Underwater Garden

Melancholy ascended in the surface
Knowing that she'll have forever a lair
In the underwater garden.
Serene the azure body that filled
The landscape crowled as ever.

The sound here is a word without a
Meaning nothing can agitate the
Monotony.
The new and the old event roll indolent
Embraced in a circle.

The one takes the place of the other
Returning continuously in the beginning.

What didn't belonged in the fluid kingdom
Has now become its integral part.
The plunder that was stolen
From the marvelous world of the unknown
Is hidden deep.
Imprisoned from the seeweeds
Ornamented with the flowers of the sea.

Every piece has its own story
Every creation is also a piece
Of its creator.
Behind the coral gate of the garden
Are sealed emotions
[solo : sotiris]

Esoptron

Reversing the view towards the soul
Absorbed from the swirl of the chaotic ego
Naked from the warm familiar
Company of matter

Here desires and fears are shaped,
Uncontrolled multiplied in
The rhythm of ecstasy
Gathered under the threat of
Upcoming afflictions

Parallel futures that may
Never happen are blocking
The entrance of the inner most sanctum
They are the guardians
Who is the master of this cosmos ?
Who posted them here ?
Illumination comes from within
And levitates the eidolon

Effigies and marble busts lined in
External chains silent,
Laden with creases deep like self deceit
They seem lost in their contemplation
Their laurel wreath is withered

Now i know how felt the first amphibian
When allowing the air to inhabit in its lungs

The sceptre was always in my hand

Esoptron

Ice Castle

In the land that was born from
The sperm of winter is
The incarnation of all enchanted fairy tales
An imposing figure
Isolated from an ocean of frozen waves
Trying to unite the sterile earth
With the celestial dome

Like a crystalline bridge of ice
In the claws of four ancient mountains
Ice castle
Transparent halls filled with
Wonder worthless
For those who are sweeping along with
The purposeless flood of wasted feelings.

Priceless treasure
For the children of the serpent dream

In the claws of four ancient mountains
Ice castle

There they claim life
In a feast with your nightmares

Phallic Litanies

Welcome to the joyous carnival of passion
Where the mind surrenders to the animal.

Smell the seductive odor of the naked skin
Bathed in the exotic oils, the potions of desire.

It would be folly to defy the eldest law
For resistance will only supply the fire of lust
With her wooden excuses.

We are here to drink this old wine without remorse
To spill the fluid of genesis
In abundance because we all know
That as this elixir of life will flow
We will be left exhausted but smiling.

Nails sink into sweaty ground
Marking dionysiac stings
Sparks set from velvet tongues
That bring close soft orange lips

Phallic litanies

Paths lead inside warm nests, that scared shrines of sin
As serpents we crawl beneath
The guises that we all wear.

It would be folly to defy the eldest law
For resistance will only supply the fire of lust
With her wooden excuses.
So it will grow stronger and stronger
Until fatally it will consume the renegades
With the flames of their denied satisfaction

Phallic litanies