To say this album came as a bit of a surprise would not be an understatement but rest assured it is very much a closing statement from the Romanian group who started their journey as Wiccan Rede back in 1994. It has not been a voyage that has run smoothly with many trials and tribulations along the way. The innervational musicians at its helm falling to divisions and artistic differences that left them having to regroup and carry on under what seemed like unsurmountable odds. They embarked upon a trilogy of albums starting with Tău in 2015, quickly followed up by Zi the year after. In 2017 tragedy struck when founding member and undisputed force during this era Negru passed away due to a heart attack in 2017 at the far too young age of 42. It seemed as though this trilogy would never be concluded. However, he had laid drum tracks for it before his premature death along with substantial notes and demos for how this Transylvanian trilogy was meant to continue and in utmost respect to his legacy those members involved in the final incarnation of the band have painstakingly assembled these composite parts to form the material we have here. This is it and a swansong in every respect, there will be no new material to come in the future and knowing that does not make the album particularly easy to review and sum up, a haunting presence is however one thing you can be assured of on pressing play.
Composing of 5 tracks and 51 minutes of music, the first and last numbers being of fairly epic length, things slowly start to unravel on opener ‘Brad’. As on all tracks included it is the traditional instruments that pave the way, Petrică Ionuţescu being responsible for the kaval (flute), nai (pan flute), tulnic (alphorn) & duduk. The sound is evocative, the trill calls and mist spreads from the mountains with the sound of the pipes. It is ethereal, it is incredibly spiritual too. What Negura Bunget achieved with their masterpiece ‘Om’ back in 2006 was the rising levels of tracks like this into transcendental peaks. What you are probably wondering is if they achieve it here but as the rest of previous parts of the trilogy have proved it should come as no real surprise that they do not. The slower atmospheres are at the forefront here as gothic sounding clean textures spread from the guitar parts and keyboards adding warmth as they radiate into other realms. This has the feel of world music far more than black metal origins which have long since been surpassed. There is however drama as the modern clashes with the past and drums and guitars heftily join in. Then there are the vocals, the gruff tones of Tibor Kati are suitably formidable but also on this number we have the addition of guest Manuela Marchiș whose siren call takes things into what can only be described as 4AD land. The touch of the Cocteau Twins and This Mortal Coil sparkles in a sublime and gorgeous fashion as high drama dissolves into all-encompassing radiating warmth. Bird song and pipes fill the air as ‘Iarba Fiarelor’ forms in an ambient fashion that would not be out of place on an Ozric Tentacles album. It’s dreamy and hypnotic and takes the listener to another place focusing on the musical shamanism before huge synths and that growling voice up the tempo. There’s a huge sense of grandiosity about it, tones are reverential as well as somewhat mournful and it feels a lot like a eulogy although considering the background to everything this is possibly inevitable.
If you have opted for vinyl, it is time to flip the side. ‘Obrăzar’ dons battle gear and stomps away, slowly but with determination. I don’t feel it is up to me to try and interpret deeper meaning into the themes other than what we are told due to the personal nature of things but cannot help but feeling that there may well be a message behind ‘Tinerețe Fără Bătrânețe’ on translating the title and seeing it means ‘Youth Without Old Age’ especially as the lamenting pipes sound like they are weeping. The melody here equally gets to you as it is strong and stirring with some fragrant clean vocals utilised amidst a rugged and gritty weight. It is the timpani percussion of Gabriel “Negru” Mafa that takes us on the final ride. ‘Toacă din cer’ taps out a rhythm and is completely absorbing with the sounds accompanying it before pausing and carrying the listener aloft on its last voyage. Soaring majestically, it surveys this mystical place that has fascinated all those who have followed its unique path over the years via both recorded output and live.
It’s time to bid a very fond farewell to Negura Bunget; the memories and music will not be forgotten.
(8/10 Pete Woods)
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