Very expensive Iron of the Ensiferum, I met you when you had just come out, in the autumn of 2004; when I began my journey as a recruit in the army of the Classical High School.
You were on my maturing friend Emanuele’s list of mastered records; in that era of burning records to ciavatta, for himself and his friends, it was almost more important than jerking off (and much more important than finding a real woman in the flesh). An Excel spreadsheet sent to me via email, overflowing with bands and titles. I remember there were also with you ThyrfingChildren of Bodom, Cradle of Filth, i Dissection and many other heroes like you.
“Like Children of Bodom but a little more folk!” – this is how Emanuele described you, arousing my attention and ensuring that I immediately highlighted you on that now historic and glorious list.
You were among the most beautiful in that pile of records that gave a financier a heart attack that arrived all at once, that afternoon at school, making my backpack heavier than usual (I assure you that the Greek and Latin dictionaries and grammars already of them were not exactly cotton wool packages) and arousing infinite perplexity in my companions.
I returned home exhausted and happy that afternoon. A near herniated disc but the backpack full of wonders, and you were among them. You with your Viking commander on the cover, next to the horse, calm and hieratic above the raging battle (yes, the record was mastered but the balding people among you will remember that at the time there was the habit of photocopying the cover, if it deserved … then oh well, the most obsessive ones did it even when it wasn’t worth it and even photocopied the back and the rib, but they were people with strange quirks).
How many times have we screamed together LAI LAI HEI! (without ever knowing what the fuck it meant)? How many times have we gone into battle against hordes of imaginary demons on the swirling riffs of Into Battle or the title track? How many hands have we placed on our hearts solemnly to the heartbreaking notes of Lost in Despairimagining ourselves contemplating desolate lands or the graves of comrades who died in battle?
Iron, my friend, I love you. And I will want you forever! (Gabriele Traversa)
