Band: Theatre of Tragedy
Album reviewed: "Aégis" (1998)
Genre: Ambient Goth Rock
Track Listing:
01. Cassandra 6:47
02. Lorelei 5:36
03. Angélique 5:45
04. Aoede 6:09
05. Siren 7:28
06. Samantha 4:11
07. Venus 5:32
08. Poppæa 5:46
09. Bacchante 6:42
The year
1998 saw the release of the mesmerizing master piece "Aégis". In this album,
Theatre of Tragedy washed away the doom metal influences completely and they
decided to move towards a more inspired quite style of music. The lead male
vocalist stopped using the growling and instead performed a whispering voice in
almost talked passages. On the other hand, the lead female vocalists reduced
the high pitch operatic chants, using a tranquil middle range voice of
incredible beauty. I imagine that is the way the mythic sirens must sound like.
On the
instruments, the distortion is blander, the guitar sound is clearer and the
prominent piano lines were kept intact. It is clear that metal is no longer the
genre played in this album, to my ears "Aégis" belongs to an ambient form of
gothic rock; the result an outstanding LP that is appealing to a larger
audience far beyond the metal music fans.
Download "Aégis" here
Song: "Cassandra"
[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]
He gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return -
She hath no life but the one he for her
wrought;
Proffer'd to her his wauking heart - she turn'd
it down,
Riposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and
scorn.
Prophetess or fond?,
Tho' her parle of truth:
"I ken to-morrow - refell me if ye
can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.
Still, is she lief and quaint in his eyne, a
sight divine? -
A mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness -
If he did grant, wherefore then did he not
foresee,
Belike egal as it to him might be?!
Prophetess or fond?,
Tho' her parle of truth:
"I ken to-morrow - refell me if ye
can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.
'Or was he an eried being,
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
Her naysay' raught his heart,
Her daffing was the grave of all hope -
She belied her own words,
He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge,
She held him august, yet wee;
He left her ne'er without his heart.
