As difficult as it may be to believe, goths are misunderstood. While outsiders view the style as dark, morose, demonic and simply not right, those among its ranks have a very different opinion. Most are attracted by the style's romantic flair, not the darkness. It just happens that the lushest colors and most dramatic sounds often tap into a more melancholy, dark energy -- just as it is no coincidence that Shakespeare's most successful works are tragedies, not comedies. Although a number of bands fall into the goth category, few display as keen an appreciation for drama and sweeping theatrics as the duo Faith and the Muse. On this re-release of their concept album Annwyn, Beneath the Waves, William Faith and Monica Richards push the operatic presentation to its extreme, with very pleasing results.
The disc's title track opens with a serrated guitar and a mid-tempo rhythm track. The guitar is processed to such a degree that it serves more as thickening agent for the music than as a melodic device. Melodic duties are instead carried by the bass -- a trait common to most music in the genre -- imparting the tune with a powerful undertow. The drama, however, is provided by Richards' soaring voice. Richards has a confident mezzosoprano, and her operatic phrasing would sound like Celine Dion if accompanied by tamer instrumentation. Here, however, she fleshes out the role of dark goddess, commanding her minions with grace, sensuality and menace.
While several tracks make fine use of the stylings of the goth genre, I find that the songs which deviate from that formula are far more effective. Of these, "Cantus" is particularly powerful, successfully combining a variety of dramatic techniques. Here, the primary vocal line is chanted instead of sung. When combined with the driving power of the timpani percussion, this presentation invokes an army of warrior-women charging across a battlefield. By the time Richards adds a wailing Middle Eastern-style solo near the end of the track, my blood is boiling with the same fierce emotions I get from the whup-ass scenes in Conan the Barbarian. The following track, "The Dream of Macsen", uses the cinematic presentation in a very different way by dropping listeners into the middle of a solemn, private moment in which Richards intones a damned lover's plea. This moment is as powerful as "Cantus", albeit in a different fashion.
While some people will find Annwyn's earnest drama a bit excessive, this same fault lies at the heart of the music's success. Without the sense of emotion and story, this would simply be another Dead Can Dance album. By adding the story to the music, Faith and Richards put their own stamp on the proceedings. Just as Bram Stoker's Dracula combines overripe pretense with honest emotion, the pair imbue their work with such a weight of true emotion that it cannot help but be overwrought. Thus, if there's fault to be found, it is that the pair are too good at what they do, a crime for which I am unwilling to punish them. While this means that many listeners will pass over Faith and the Muse, it will also endear them to the hearts of the initiated.
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