In the digital era, it’s rare to encounter a project as ambitious as this: a triple-LP concept album available as a boxed set, including a book with a short story (in Italian) and 180 illustrations. Un Sequestro Lungo 10,000 Anni is the love child of Samuele Gottardello (Blak Saagan) and Iranian illustrator Majid Bita, the second in a series of Opale Editions by Maple Death Records and Canicola Edizioni.
The concept is dystopian, the illustrations vibrant despite their dual tones, portraying a world overrun by monsters and monstrous humans, a savage police force keeping a terrified and often angry populace at bay. In one scene, a bus rushes headlong toward a gaping maw. The apartments are jammed and often infested; Big Brother is everywhere, sharing the sky with the invading beasts. Helicopters roar and crash outside, while some citizens curl into balls and others smoke cigarettes, impassively observing the carnage. An informant uses a dial-up phone; a cleric mourns a fallen world. Angels and devils abound. Yet even amid the flames, there is room for art: writers and illustrators are hard at work, chronicling the chaos. The book’s final sentence: “Start dreaming again.”
Given the artist’s background, it’s impossible to ignore the parallels with the current devestation in Iran: set upon from every angle, the populace is at the mercy of bombs from above and repression from below. And yet, this stark combination of dangers can rear its ugly head in any nation. While it’s tempting to think of the album as a dystopian vision (thanks to the presence of skyscraper-tall monsters), its visual metaphors can be applied to the present day. The rough translation: A 10,000 Year Long Kidnapping.
Blak Saagan follows first a trajectory, and then an arc. The album begins with electronic music that segues gently into an ambient phase before toppling into rock and jazz and returning to the electronic. A few tracks contain vocals, but an entire LP side worth of material passes before the first words appear. An affection for 80s synth permeates the electronic pieces, conjuring associations with horror films; but while opener “The Blak Fire” is nearly industrial, the closer is as bright as the hopeful denouement. The early electronic pieces are metallic, propulsive and exciting, scoring what might be the initial invasion or the conflict already in progress; there will be time to slow down later, as people choose between the classic options: run, hide, die.
“Everything will be swept away,” sings Julinko. Guitars surge like growling behemoths; drums pound like wide Kaiju feet. But by “Henran” (“Bewildered”), it all slows to a quiet boil, saxophone swelling as it struggles to take in a series of incomprehensible vistas. Time begins to distend; four of the final six tracks stretch past the ten minute mark. After the end, there is no more need for watches. The industrial timbres return in “FRREPa (featuring Liz Van Der Nüll)” ~ the sound of resistance re-awakening. The album’s shortest piece at 2:41, it packs the most powerful punch. At the beginning of the next piece, one can hear sirens and the sounds of street protest; the populace has awakened, and the revolution has begun. Midway through the piece, the BPMs increase along with the confidence of the movement. “Disintegrazione” offers a final pause for reflection before the completion of the arc, representing restoration. Such things have happened in history, which means they can happen again; but as this album warns, things may get a whole lot worse before they begin to improve. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 