The perfection of folk that moves from a metal base to spread in the air with its Middle Eastern aromas, graceful as feathers and melancholic as only the best doom can usually give. This is Börübay, the third album by Yaşru, a Turkish band that is almost 100% under a talented musician like Berk Öner, who, as in the previous Öz, is accompanied by bassist Batur Akçura, calling upon himself all the remaining instrumental and vocal component. If Öz had favorably impressed me, showing what the musician from Istanbul is capable of, this album touches peaks of lyricism frankly difficult to match: in half an hour we pass in front of us all the imagery of Turkish tradition, from the one that winks at Europe to the moods of the endless Anatolian territories. Citing folk and metal in the same sentence can create misunderstandings that must be immediately dispelled: If this is the most logical label to assign to the work of Yaşru, here we find nothing to do with the tendencies alcoholic caciarone (said in a good way, you mean) to Korpiklaani or with the rhetoric epic warlike that is taking place in our country; in Börübay the emotionality that pervades every note refers at least for attitude to the Celtic tradition, especially when Öner tries his hand with the flute, but there are also links with the great Moonsorrow, especially in a track like Rüzgarìn Yìrlarì. The instrumental 552 AD (Börü) introduces the album with its stunning beauty, while the title track raises the revs of the engine, with Öner that supports the rocky incipit with his growl and then undertake a decline towards more evocative sounds and vocals, while retaining a hint of doom (which is the musical style from which he actually comes). Aalara is a jewel that is set where the authors of the recent Jumalten Aika would have landed if they had been born in what was once Byzantium, while the captivating chant of Nazar Eyle (cover of a song by Baris Manço, one of the most important Turkish musicians of the last century) is completed by the most introspective emanation of folk according to Yaşru represented by the already mentioned opener and Hafiz. The closing track is the self-titled, perhaps the least brilliant of the album but only for its relatively more cheerful trend that mitigates the emotional intensity found in the other tracks. Soon to be published by WormHoleDeath, which thanks to the fine ear of those who direct it has grabbed the services of Yaşru, basically Börübay has only one flaw, that of being too short, because there is never enough music of this kind: not too bad really, when the quality of a record reaches these levels a single minute is worth at least ten of much more redundant works.
2016 – WormHoleDeath
Mournful Sounds 
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