Holy Madonna, Once.
In its own way it is an important album. Or rather, it is one of the most important albums of a period in which in metal, or at least in the traditional subgenres of the same, hardly anything was happening (don’t drag the Mastodons out of me for the umpteenth time Dragonforce that I beat you, have patience), mediocrity was rampant and therefore even the Nightwish of the middle phase, with the foot increasingly pressed on the accelerator of pomposity, so much so as to make it seem Angel Fall First e Oceanborn some punk records from the village cellar, they seemed like Homeric heroes to us.
Because it is important Once? Because it is the last of Nightwish with the queen of Finland Tarja “one jaw to rule them all” Turunen on the microphone, and therefore also the last of Nightwish to make sense (the rest of their work I listened to it distractedly but it seemed like a squeezing of the brand and nothing else, good stuff at most for the Sanremetal).
The other reasons why I think Once an important record are only and exclusively linked to my personal experience. Once it’s a bit like Iron of the Ensiferum, or Valdr Galga by Thyrfing: reminds me of being 14 years old. I mean, wait a minute, it’s not even half as good as the two records I’ve just compared to it, at least musically speaking, but it fits into the same imagery, as well as the same historical period.
For a nerdy little metalhead high school student and live action RPG player whose only goals in life were to get as few failures as possible, not let my mother give me cigarettes and, I don’t know, choose whether I liked dwarves or boys better. elves, with its three-four (no more… NO-MORE) catchy songs, which I listened to on repeat, Once it was yet another mental trip with a vaguely fantasy flavour from which one would never recover (the trigger was listening to Land of Immortalsabout a year and a half before).
Going into more detail, the work is a small thing. I hope you will all agree with me that it is Oceanborn That Wishmaster it’s been talked about ahead, as they say in central Paris, which is full of fillers and which Nemo it is a bland and tasteless single, like an unseasoned green salad from a diner From Peppe er Pipparolo.
But, despite all these factual truths, to this day I still can’t listen to the opening riff of Dark Chest of Wonders without frantically moving my foot, imagining myself whizzing along on my little bike towards the seafront. I can’t listen to the chorus of Ghost Love Score without seeing so many souls of dead, shipwrecked girls appear before me, singing in chorus as they rise towards the sky holding hands (yes, they used to roll a lot of joints at school). I can’t listen Creek Mary’s Blood without letting myself be carried away, flying as in a dream, towards the distant lands of the Native Americans, to embrace smiling warriors and squaws dressed up for the occasion. I can’t listen to the guitars of Planet Hell without thinking about their bully cousins from Espoo, the Children of Bodom (other gymnasium group final). I can’t listen I Wish I Had an Angel… I can’t listen I Wish I Had an Angel because it’s shit. I swear, I think it’s one of the ugliest songs in history, on the podium together with I Was Made for Loving You e We are the champions.
And with this final little provocation, let’s meet for the next trip down memory lane. (Gabriele Traversa)
