Arriving a little late to the release of this album, one inevitably runs the risk of being repetitive or, even worse, of making a glossary of all the reviews already published. What remains for me, at this point, is to try to talk, as a Genoese, about a band from my city that perpetuates a musical trend that, in the shadow of the Lantern, draws inspiration from an imagery at the antipodes of modernity, made as it’s of references to the legendary black and white TV dramas and Italian horror, more Fulci-Bava than Argento, and demonstrates this by choosing as cover an image taken from one of the revalued B-movies of the early ’70s. In a city that’s decaying, buried by the crisis, even more moral than economic, disheartened by the sloth of the governors and clinging to the fate of a port that struggles to withstand the increased competitiveness of competition, Abysmal Grief as background for their (rare) promotional photos do not choose, as would seem logical, the funeral monuments of Staglieno, decadent symbol of the Superba nobility that ceased to exist decades ago, but rather the small cemeteries in the suburbs or in the countryside, where anonymous remains marked by a simple cross struggle to find space among the weeds and neglect that also symbolise a degradation that seems irreversible. Following the road traced, at least at the level of retrospective imagination, by Malombra first and then by Il Segno Del Comando, Abysmal Grief exorcise the terror of death in the best possible way, that is, with an unhealthy doom with ancient traits, in which a magnificent Hammond leads the macabre dances counterpointed by a pulsing bass and, sometimes, dominant on a guitar that, when it carves out space in a solo version, always leaves its mark; The last nails in the coffin are ideally hammered in by Labes C. Necrothytus. Necrothytus’ voice is ideally the last nail in the coffin, recalling in a broad sense that of the great Carl McCoy, at least in the setting, moving from baritone tones to a deep but always understandable growl, and in the ability to communicate the funereal lyrical content of the songs. This album shows a different face, more horrific and morbid, of doom, which in all its versions maintains its characteristics of music for few people, and patience if its visibility in the media is zero and if, consequently, those who organize concerts struggle to fill even small venues; doom is a modus vivendi (and not moriendi as someone might mistakenly think) and to play and listen to it you need a different sensitivity that allows you to enjoy sensations and psychic vibrations precluded to the majority of people. Feretri, in the end, corresponds exactly to what every fan would have wanted to hear from Abysmal Grief; the insinuating and evil keyboard that pervades these three quarters of an hour of great music has wedged itself in my brain and has no intention of leaving it any time soon. Far from chauvinistic temptations, one can safely say that an album with such characteristics could only be extracted from the hat of an Italian band. Literally unmissable.

2013 – Terror From Hell Records