The third album of In Tormentata Quiete will be one of the usual crosses for those who try to catalog the music as if it were to rearrange the books in a library, respecting a strict and inescapable alphabetical order. The Bolognese ensemble, and this is what counts, gives the umpteenth pearl of a career that, as often happens in our parts for those who try to make music in its highest artistic sense, is destined more to the status of worship than to that of successful reality. On the other hand, I don’t think that In Tormentata Quiete have ever given priority to this last objective, especially operating and living in a country like Italy where if you don’t appear you don’t exist and where, if you propose music that forces you to be listened to and not simply heard, you are hopelessly destined to remain in the hearts of a lucky few. The recipe of the Bolognese band would seem, put down like this, damn intricate, since in the same work we can find folk, prog, black and Italian songwriting without any of these components ever overpowering the other, amazing for the balance achieved, almost like when you look at those crazy tightrope walkers who cross the canyons walking on a thin rope stretched over abysses hundreds of meters deep. For once I find myself rather in agreement with the presentation notes, in which it is mentioned names such as Solefald, Ulver and Devil Doll, references that, frankly, could be counterproductive at the time of the therefore: yet ours turn out to be completely worthy, if not really at the level of sound certainly for attitude, the approach to this handful of brilliant experimenters. What surprises, however, with such premises, is a melodic sense that never fails to become the true thread of a work that is spectacular both musically and lyrically, with its concept focused on emotions and feelings associated with individual colors. The vocal weave is another aspect able to elevate In Tormentata Quiete over the rest of the competition: two clean voices, one male, the other female, continuously exchange roles “disturbed” by an acid scream that operates mostly as a counter-song, almost as if it wanted to dirty, with its brutal incursions, those melodic textures that, in the long run, creep into the mind and heart of the listener. Twelve minutes are enough, those in which develops the initial coupling Blu / Il Profumo Del Blu, to those who had never heard a note of In Tormentata Quiete, to understand to be in the presence of a unique reality in the Italian scene and to expect further sound wonders (among which stand out the elegy of Verde and the black folk of La Carezza Del Giallo) during the remaining three quarters of an hour. But, in the meantime, the destiny of transversal talents like these is to be understood by few: too cultured for those who need disposable music, too metallic for the progressive Ptolemies (it seems to me to hear them “ah, that croaking voice…”), too melodic for the metalheads, finally too superior to the average to become, even by accident, a mass phenomenon. Those few, in fact, who have never adapted to the spastic minimalism of text messages and are able to read at least three lines of an email without experiencing a loss of attention, try to give a chance to In Tormentata Quiete.

2014 – My Kingdom Music