Arcana - Medieval ambient-gothic

Among the countless “illegitimate children” of the mighty Dead Can Dance, Sweden's Arcana - led by Peter Pettersson (arranger, instrumentalist and singer) - undoubtedly deserve a place among the most gifted and refined exponents of that sound which marries gothic atmospheres, medieval suggestions and lieder of austere, neoclassical beauty. 

In 1993 Petterson, who would later become known as Peter Bjärgö, launches the project, but quickly feels the need for a female voice to best express his "celestial" compositions. Ida Bengtsson is thus brought in, a singer with a typically "dark" register, who becomes a kind of Scandinavian equivalent of Tara Vanflower of Lycia.

Arcana debut on the Cold Meat Industry label with the track "And Even Wolves Hid Their Teeth", which serves as a prelude to the release, dated 1996, of the album Dark Age Of Reason. The dominant theme is a dark, medieval atmosphere with grandiose tones, skillfully alternating between Petterson's deep voice and Ida Bengtsson's celestial one. Martial drums, polyphonic choirs and funeral bells become the hallmarks of a sound that sits halfway between Dead Can Dance and In The Nursery. The arrangements are also remarkable, combining the futuristic coldness of the keyboards with the "archaic" pathos of oboe, clarinet, piano and percussion.

"Our God Weeps" is a solemn hymn, marked by martial drum rolls and wrapped in a blanket of icy keyboards. "Angel of Sorrow" opens with cadences of impending tragedy, making way for a chilling dirge sung by Ida Bengtsson in a spectral, detached register. "Source of Light" heightens the polyphonic choirs and the dramatic tension of the keyboards, which grow ever more insistent. "The Calm Before The Storm" is another exercise in "neoclassical" electronics, halfway between Love Is Colder Than Death and Enya. The title track, entirely instrumental, unfolds over seven minutes of rarefied sonorities and medieval suggestions, with a menacing choir in the distance. "Serenity", marked by dark keyboard chimes, gradually dissolves into a sinuous, romantic flow. "For My Love" is immersed in a decadent, claustrophobic mood, both catastrophic and mystical. "The Song Of Mourning" is a melancholy litany for two voices accompanied by an imposing crescendo of percussion, harpsichord and keyboards. More than songs, these are sonic cathedrals, built on a thriller-like atmosphere, yet at the same time capable of conveying an almost otherworldly sense of calm. "I don't consider myself a religious person," Petterson explains, "but not an atheist either. I'm not convinced by the 'uncritical' notion of Christianity behind which many people hide, indoctrinating their children according to the precepts of a book written two thousand years ago. I'd like everyone to be able to develop their own sense of spirituality."

Dark Age Of Reason receives an excellent reception from the international press and earns Arcana a certain popularity within the "gothic" niche of the independent scene. A popularity fueled by the band's always theatrical and evocative live shows, such as the one at "Vampyria" in Reggio Emilia, with set designs made of candelabras and large black drapes on the walls decorated with medieval images, and at the center, enormous, the band's name in Gothic lettering.

A year later, the second album, Cantar de Procella, confirms the duo's ability to move along the paths of that ambient-gothic sound now increasingly in vogue, both in Europe (Aurora, Love Is Colder Than Death) and in the United States (Black Tape For A Blue Girl, Lycia). The basic formula is that of Dead Can Dance, also echoed by the male-female two-piece line-up. An influence Petterson doesn't hesitate to acknowledge: "Dead Can Dance were very important to me, I'd say decisive in my musical choices. They were perhaps the first band to reflect at least 90 percent of my idea of music, oriented towards the Middle Ages and certain strands of Classical music." Arcana's peculiarity lies in reworking "sepulchral" settings into unpredictable arrangements, aided by harpsichord passages, the careful use of the female voice and daring polyphonic choirs.

The record offers a handful of sweet, candlelit ballads, alternating dark tones with rare bursts of sunlight, leaning ever more toward ecstasy than terror. Above all, it's the religious dimension of their music that grows. "The Opening of the Wound" is perhaps the track that best serves as a link between the old and new course. The arrangements become more varied and dynamic: cyclical melodies of harp and acoustic guitar form the backdrop to the songs. But it's above all voices and choirs that are the true instruments around which the tracks flow. "The Opening of the Wound" opens the record in a spirit of epic romanticism.

The fateful "Chant of the Awakening" marches forward on a tortuous journey that leads to the a cappella singing of "The Song Of Solitude (The Cry of Isolde)", performed by Bengtsson in a bleak, desperate register. "Void of Silence" fades delicately into "Cantar de Procella", where Petterson supports the singer's vocalizing with a simple harp riff. The female choirs of "Aeterna Doloris" give way to the male ones of "The Song of Preparation", heightening the pathos. "God of the Winds" brings back a sense of calm, while "The Dreams Made of Sand" and "La Salva de Profundis" rely on the same device: a slender melody that grows ever more majestic. With "Gathering of the Storm" Arcana venture into neoclassical territory, without giving up an air of medievalism strongly reminiscent of Dead Can Dance. "The Tree Within", with its wandering strings accompanying Bengtsson's singing, closes the work in the spirit of that mystical calm which is, ultimately, its dominant trait.

The dark formula of their early work is further softened in the singles "Lizabeth" and "Isabel", while the duo's third chapter, …The Last Embrace (1999), evokes the medieval atmospheres of Dark Age Of Reason, but without reaching those same expressive peaks again. The archaic melodies of the past give way to tight marches, with Pettersson's pained voice and Bengtsson's angelic one intoning mantras of almost religious majesty. But solemn arias like "Diadema" and pompous hymns like "Winds of the Lost Soul" and "March of Loss" partly compromise the crystalline aura that had been the Swedish duo's trademark, and if anything it's the romantic ode "Love Eternal" that recaptures the most authentic spirit of their music. Already by the third album, the project seems headed to run aground on the cliffs of its own sound: the main cause seems to be the pursuit of a hypothetical sequel to the first album, based however on cyclical variations of a formula that was already exhausted from the start.

After the album's release, Bengtsson leaves the project and Pettersson founds Sophia, releasing three albums: the self-titled Sophia, Herbstwerk and Spite. Compared to Arcana's symphonic gothic, the music becomes more martial and industrial, but despite its undeniable appeal the formula begins to show its limits, overdoing it in grandiosity and self-indulgence.

Arcana's return to recording comes in 2002: without Bengtsson, replaced by Ann-Mari Thin in crafting vocal harmonies of rare allure, with Inner Pale Sun, Petterson tries to revive the glories of their debut, but by further simplifying the form, bringing everything into an even more timid and fragile dimension compared to the past. Not even the recruitment of Stefan Erikkson, who is entrusted with almost the entire management of the keyboards, proves sufficient: the eight idyllic vignettes of this album, however, almost never have the strength to soar to the dreamlike heights one might expect, settling instead for flowing calmly and elegantly through their delicate harmonies.

In the end, despite moments of undeniable charm (especially in the single "We Rise Above" and in "Innocent Child") and the predictable back-and-forth between ethereal, dreamy atmospheres and darkly "gothic" ones, the work comes across at best as dutifully derivative of the genre's masters (and "Song Of The Dead Sun" is nothing more than a cloying imitation of the usual Dead Can Dance), as well as self-referential. But Pettersson is by now too short of breath to come through unscathed in a comparison with the past (his own above all), and undeniable craftsmanship, dreamy and majestic atmospheres, seasoned with an overall scaling-down of ambitions, are certainly not enough to offset the lack of real inspiration.

From 2003 the band's lineup is also reinforced by Cecilia Bjärgö, recently married to leader Peter, who from then on takes his wife's surname. In 2005 Le Serpent Rouge marks a surprising turning point in the band's career. A turning point that, in the end, only underscores the Swedish musician's heavy debt to the masters Dead Can Dance. To put it plainly, Le Serpent Rouge is to Arcana's career what "Spiritchaser" was/is to Dead Can Dance's. Hence ethnic suggestions and starry desert nights, rather than dark gothic symphonies. This is perhaps the first genuine attempt to abandon the clichés carried forward in previous works, a shift meant to ensure the project doesn't risk sinking for good into creative emptiness. And so here we find sonic constructions never so free of electronic elements, the triumph of an orchestra straight out of some arcane, tribal rite, playing out in the madrigal dance of the title track, in the darkness of "Cathar", in the madrigal "Amber" or in the forest wanderings of "The Passage" and "The Niemesis". The "new" Arcana lose much of their earlier allure and style, but gain from a shift that will prove decisive to their career: starting with Le Serpent Rouge, in fact, the band's standing begins to rise again and their search finally starts moving along increasingly personal paths, far removed from the formulas of their origins.

The band — by now expanded to a five-piece with the addition of percussionist Mattias Borgh — faces difficulties and obstacles that account for its prolonged silence. Having by then settled with the meticulous German label Kalikaland (run by Harald Lowy of Chandeen), Arcana can finally get back to work in peace and, ever the perfectionists, painstakingly craft their new offspring, whose release is delayed for months.

And so with Raspail, Arcana pick up the threads of their story again in 2008, offering an album that, behind the banner of a return to the old gothic sound, conceals a first attempt to vary the formula itself. After the world-music binge of the previous work, Peter and company retrace their steps, making much more measured use of ethnic instruments and percussion and dusting off lush arrangements and lyrical, vocal interplay. The result is an album that chews over already well-trodden territory, seemingly predictable in every one of its — thoroughly enjoyable — moments, but actually foreshadowing a bright future. Thus the lyrical overture of "Abrakt", the pure gothic of "Parisal", the grandiose desolation of "Lost In Time" and the sinister Perry-esque march of "Outside Your World" sound like echoes of the past. But, almost hidden, the first signs of a future, full artistic recovery also appear: in the piano droplets of "In Remembrance", in the placid calm of "Sighs Of Relief", in the genuine flow of "Invisible Motions" and in the ambient rarefaction of "Circumspection" one senses a new air, aimed not at a sonic revolution but rather at a new kind of artistic conception: the primacy of songwriting over arrangement, of direct composition over cliché. Dazzling and refined as ever, Arcana return to believing in a sound they themselves seemed ready to abandon, a sound growing ever less fashionable, even within dark circles.

Five long years must pass — during which the limited-edition release of the side project Un Passage Silencieux fails to ease the wait — before we witness the dazzling, long-awaited return of the Swedish band. The new offspring, dated 2012, is titled As Bright As A Thousand Suns, and marks the band's marriage to the Cyclic Law label. This time it's neither a radical turning point like Le Serpent Rouge was, nor an evolution of Raspail's stylistic traits. Rather, three elements set this new offspring apart from its predecessors: first of all, it's a notably more "direct" record, less redundant and grandiose, and more carefully composed. Secondly, it is, perhaps for the first time, the album of a one-man band rather than an ensemble: Pettersson is as always the compositional leader, but this time he also rises, above all, to the role of "conductor" of the orchestra he himself assembles. A third, no less important aspect is the admirably eclectic nature running through every track: the referential monochrome that has always been the band's trademark disappears, and so the references are the most varied, ranging from the "usual" Dead Can Dance to the already-mentioned Black Tape, but also passing through the forefathers of dream pop (Cocteau Twins, Love Spirals Downwards), and through a certain proto-industrial strain (Raison d'Être) and ethnic one (Jon Hassell, Al Gromer Khan, Michael Brook). Thus, some of the tracks tend to look once again to the band's radical past, where gothic reigns supreme and the shadow of Dead Can Dance pervades the sonic lifeblood, whether in pure form ("Leave Me Be") or amid archaic echoes ("Medea"), mystical ones ("In Memoriam", "As The End Draws Near") or apocalyptic ones ("The Fading Shadow"). The real "novelties", however, come in other tracks: the opening sonata "Somnolence", which seems lifted straight from a more minimal Black Tape For A Blue Girl album, the dreamy "Inceptus", a sweet melody furrowed by oriental percussion, "Infinity", a brief ethno-industrial interlude somewhere between Hassell, Spiritual Front and fellow countryman Andersson, and the closing classical-leaning brushstroke of "Vinter", fully in the style of Satie. Also standing out forcefully is the title track, a dark tribal mass coated in black pitch reminiscent of Death In June at their best.

All things considered, As Bright As A Thousand Suns is an album whose immense appeal stems from the purity at the heart of its sound, from Pettersson's bold decision to break away from his long-standing adherence to the clichés of his own style and strip away any constraint in the songwriting: the result is the most direct and least grandiose album of their entire catalogue, as well as the best since Dark Age Of Reason.

After a career spent largely retracing the same formula to the point of exhausting every last sound, Arcana seem to have wanted to give their music a decisive jolt, finally pulling themselves free of the quicksand they had ended up trapped in. Having given us, almost fifteen years ago, one of the masterpieces of Nordic gothic, they now seem ready at last to return as undisputed leading lights of the dark-wave scene: a role they have shown they have every potential to fill to the fullest.

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

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