SEVENTH HELL

Have you ever had a panic attack before? Personally, I have; I believe we've all had one at some point in our lives. It's an unfortunate event, the manic state opening our minds to the worst sort of thoughts. Now, imagine you had a panic attack, but it only filled you with a euphoric and cathartic positive energy. Ladies, Gentlemen, and all Others, it's the most outrageous, outspoken, and controversial of living artists; the only difference between them and madmen is that they're not mad; the Japanese power trio, now turned quintet, goddesses of darkness: Ars Nova! Who, as Dali did so many years ago, thread the line between utter and complete chaotic madness, and the most over the top and bombastic music Progressive Rock has to offer.

What is there to say about Ars Nova? Their reputation speaks for itself: never failing to deliver the most hyperactive and frantic Symphonic Prog on every single studio album since the dawn of the 90's. Some dismiss the band as a pale copy of Emerson Lake & Palmer, do not listen to such naysayers, rather, listen to their entire discography from Tränsi (1994) onward; and if you deign listen to at least a quarter of the album before judging it, you will hear for yourself that Ars Nova's unique blend of influences, and creativity, are nothing alike that of ELP. I dare say, Ars Nova surpasses ELP in bombast and arrogance, when it comes to studio albums, at least; ELP wins by a large margin as far as live shows are concerned; and this statement has never, to me, been truer that on Seventh Hell (2009). In my eyes, this album is Ars Nova's magnum opus: a refusal to repeat themselves, with a lot of daring experimentation, and a bombastic nature pushed even farther than ever before, to levels that even ELP could only dream of achieving. Seventh Hell (2009) is a slap in the face to every listener, and a ball-gag forced into their detractors' mouths in the most provocative, edgy, and extravagant manner possible.

It has to be listened to be believed, and it will make you believe, by force. The title track is thoroughly self-explanatory: not a millisecond is wasted, as you are thrust into Ars Nova's world immediately. The guitar is put at the forefront this time, delving further into the concepts they had first elaborated on Biogenesis Project (2003), with, this time around, an even harder edge. It may only have been a few seconds, and yet, the music has already sank its claws into your brain, demanding your fullest attention with an abrasive roaring and crying from the guitars. French and Latin demon laugh, as you are banished to Satan's realm. In only a few seconds, everything you must know about Ars Nova is put forward as an injunction: You will pay attention, you will know that they are mighty, you will know that they are the twisted child of ELP, of Classical Music, of Metal, and of French Literature... Like it or not, Ars Nova means business, and they will let you know by drilling their one-of-a-kind sound directly through each end of your skull, mensing it with a menseful seal.

What follows is a truck. Yes, a truck going at full throttle, which collides with you at Mach 5 speed; and don't think the driver will even consider hitting the brakes. That introduction was but the sound of its horn, one that you heard far too late to get out of the way. Once the entire band joins in, you awaken in hell, crushing in its raw power and immeasurable scale. You need not worry, Keiko Kumagai's trademark flaming keyboard solos soon follow, now with the help of a howling over-driven guitar. Both playfully dialogue, bouncing back and forth at a breakneck pace, with the energy to power the city of Tokyo. With its rapid-fire melody changes, its nasty, yet perfectly executed transitions, its ominous and simply awesome nature... Seventh Hell is the proper meaning of a beat-down: there is hardly anything you can firmly grasp; and any time you are able to hold onto the ledge that separates you from falling further into the bottomless pits of hell, the band members gang up on you... not to step on your fingers... but instead, to detonate dynamite, whose shock-waves resonate throughout your whole body, and to send the steep and desolate hills of hell, you so desperately hold onto, crashing down in a landslide, sinking into an ocean of lava and flames, in a deluge of exotic and dissonant riffing. Seventh Hell is not a safe song, nor it does pretend to be; they're playing on their turf, and you... you have to run for your life, through the rough and unfamiliar terrain of brash supersonic synth solos, the infinitely deep or absurdly high screaming from the guitars and bass, and the relentless punches which the drums just cannot stop throwing in your direction, determined to strike you down. The song, reaching its end, does not step even one feet down from its culminating heights, does not budge from its throne which overlooks its hellish domain; Ars Nova is still at the top of the world, and you... you're here to watch.

La Vénus Endormie follows, with a mystically enticing introduction: sounds conjured from the birth of most beautiful goddess to grace the world, surging from the waves of an infinite ocean, castaway on the banks of a virgin forest. This breath of fresh air is a demonstration of another facet of the band's music: invoking storms one second, and comforting our souls with soothing sorcery the next. But, Ars Nova cannot simply be content with a classical guitar accompanied by soft vocals... an electric guitar soars, possessed by the unbound agony of the greatest tragedies, and the gentle beauty which only the most gifted poets could hope to achieve with words. The song alternates between a distorted electric guitar, and the acoustic one, somehow both expressing the same feeling of unbridled gorgeousness; supported by a myriad of keyboards, whose melodies forthput a truly magical soundscape, which will strike the hearts of every sensible human; and whose solos both impresses deeply, and awakens a new love for mythology's greatest fantasies and deities.

Cazadora de Astros follows in the steps of the preceding song, be it with, as the title implies, a cosmic, almost heavenly feel, inspiring a profoundly melancholic sentiment, not unlike that of a lone being, wandering the vastness of space, chasing the distant stars, light-years away. Intensity builds up, so does the emotion evoked by the impossibly impressive atmosphere, until the middle part of the song... In a theatrical tirade, every instrument is brought to tears, yelling at the top of their lungs, creating one of the most emotionally powerful moments of the entire album. The feeling is hardly describable with simple words due to its biblical proportions. It is the heartbreaking last moments and death of a star, whose last cries pierced the nothingness of the void, to reach our ears, trillions of kilometers away; whose stardust took a life on their own, and ran in every direction for a new home, at the speed of light, with the weight of a pulsar over their soul, and with the glow of a thousand comets; perhaps, a few of the million shooting stars will get caught in the star-chaser's net, so that they may behold the treasures of the distant universe. Slowly, the song fades away, our hunter keeps on wandering through the unfathomable deep black, while, far away, thanks to accretion, a lucky few may witness the birth of a new star.

Just when your soul feels at rest, and your body becomes alight, the band is back to kneecapping you, in the most ferocious and unexpected way they can pull off. Forthwith, the foreboding sound of static synth chords fills your ears, the incomprehensible whispers of a few almost schizophrenic voices drift from left to right, top to bottom, and the warped instrumentation leaves you floating in place... all rendering you unable to move, in the grasp of the almighty Zephyrus. "Follow us", you hear, as they laugh, and laugh, ever so maniacally... and suddenly go medieval on your poor, disoriented spirit. Voice of Wind is only four minutes long, and it will use them to their fullest extent: transitions are barely a second long, each part appears as soon as it disappears, each instrument sprints through the track; and with its almost tribal vocal inflections, accentuated by punchy drums, it occurs to you that this is a fistfight you are clearly losing. A dense asphyxiating atmosphere, a melting mist of guitars, is anything close to mild you will ever get from this song; Ars Nova's over-the-top, insane, and utterly frantic music is back, the two previous songs were but a cooldown... a short moment they took to roll their arm back and telegraph a punch that would hit you square in the face, shattering your teeth.

You're defenestrated into the next song, but before even being given the time to think, you're grabbed by the collar and forced into a rocking chair, overlooking a Spanish beach, on which clocks melt, and incomprehensible creatures mesh with the environment. Salvador Syndrome, the most incomprehensibly chaotic, and genius song in the band's catalog, as well as the longest, befalls you. Not even Voice of Wind could have prepared you for this... not even the knowledge of every minute detail of Dali's paintings could have prepared you for this. Seventeen entire minutes of constant change, going in unexpected directions at every opportunity, alike to a car, speeding in the streets of a labyrinthine city, taking U-turns whenever accustomed to going in a straight line for mere seconds. An inventive suite, dancing mad between sudden bursts of Hispanic music, impromptu and surprising operatic singing, mind-bending instrumental passages in which each virtuoso musician has a chance to showcase their talent of the highest caliber; nailing, in quick succession, blowtorch-hot solos over intricate and ever-changing rhythms. The music rises as high as heaven, and descends as low as the abyss, leaving a trail of destruction on its path without even bothering to look back. You're pulled, you're pushed, and most importantly, you're never given a chance to understand the situation. Had Dali lived to hear this song, he would have been proud, I am certain.

And so, your beautiful torment ends, the band have had their fun throwing you around like a baseball, and now they left, leaving you alone in an empty field. After piecing yourself together with whatever glue of duct tape you have at your disposal, you'll be able to reflect on what just happened to you. Your first conclusion will most likely be along the lines of "I don't know what the hell I just listened to?"; it takes time, and a few more listens, to completely grasp the utter genius of the album. Seventh Hell (2009), is, by a long-shot, Ars Nova's most inventive, cutting edge, diverse, enjoyable, awesome, and best project; and this is telling! for their previous works were already some of the finest Symphonic Rock to grace the ears of any tasteful listener. Seventh Hell (2009) is, quite simply, one of the most advanced, mature, and polished work of the Rock genre as a whole; crafted with the most fervid love and passion for music, by the second coming of Keith Emerson: Keiko Kumagai; helped the some of the best musicians in the Japanese Progressive scene, and geniuses from beyond the seas. Every melody, every note, every second, every little detail about the album seeps with upmost passion, to the point of overflowing, which is the greatest gift us listeners and avid music lovers could ever wish for. Every single musician plays their heart out, as if tomorrow, music would disappear forever; it is beyond cathartic. To some, this album may only be a pompous and narcissistic mess of overzealous musicians, unable to hold a thought for more than a minute; but some people are wrong: it is anything but! Love for the discipline is the flour that helped bake these five songs, a love so powerful that every person participating in the creation of Seventh Hell (2009), expressed this appreciation by letting go of any limits, letting loose, losing themselves in the music, and letting their creativity run wild like enraged tigers, or gracious swans.

Seventh Hell (2009) commands respect. It is a labor of love, expertly created by some of the finest minds in Progressive Rock. Its power transcends the typical way we think of music; to be understood, it requires to throw away casual listening into a bin, to open our minds, and embrace it in a profound manner. And, even as a casual listen, the wonderful and inspiring songs will not leave you indifferent. It will stick to the listener, like a kiss upon the cheek from a soulmate, and like a trident piercing your chest; personally, I cannot go back to living without Seventh Hell (2009). I am certain that any person dedicated to art will appreciate this album, just as I did, and will find it as deeply inspiring, from the first millisecond and its bellowing guitar, to the last second and its solemn echoes. With this album, Ars Nova has, in my mind, cemented themselves as an icon of Progressive Rock, dare I say, as an icon in the field of Art, on the same level as Dali, and every artist that Ars Nova has been inspired by. It is an honor for us, and an honor for the artists referenced in the making of each song; but before anything, every member, every guest, and everyone that helped make this album possible, should be honored for having created an unparalleled, and unrivaled masterpiece, a project so incomprehensibly magnificent and mighty, that the Tower of Babel, in comparison, is nothing more than Keiko Kumagai's crown!

Grade: 10/10

Favorite tracks: Every track.