Anxious Musick Magazine on Nirnaeth: Xperimenta

I make no secret of the fact that Nirnaeth’s return to the world of the living intrigued me greatly. For at least two reasons. Firstly, I still own the cassette version of the second album, entitled “Nirnaeth Arnoediad”, which I played to death towards the end of my teenage years. That was more than 20 years ago, and at the time Nirnaeth provided me with a keyboard-driven diversion from dozens of underground releases, mostly metal ones. Secondly, I have not forgotten the magical, hypnotic and melancholic aura that Piotr Wójcik’s music evoked in me. My curiosity about the new music he has recorded is therefore entirely justified. The third album, “Auta I Lome”, released in 2021, is, however, a subject for a separate story.

Two years later comes the debut material of something I would call an offshoot of the classic Nirnaeth, namely Nirnaeth: Xperimenta. The album’s content differs so much from the original project that the modification of the name no longer raises any doubts. Two things are characteristic here: the absence of vocals and the calmer music. There is little point looking for very dark, depressive moods here; it is rather, I would say, nocturnal. Most of the tracks also revolve around a single musical motif, around which successive melodies weave their variations. It is quite a risky device, as it suggests the possibility of monotony, boredom, or both at once. Neither of them, however, occurs here. The development of the melodies is inventive and deft, while the introduction of a delicate rhythm into these calm passages can bring to mind genres such as downtempo or ambient. The defining characteristic, however, is a style situated somewhere between darkwave and jazz-tinged chillout, as though taken straight from the dimmer corners of a café. The guests in such a place are not quite as gloomy as the average protagonists of darkwave fantasies, but they are certainly contemplative. And the autumnal character of the album is suited to contemplation like little else. All the more so because the concept was to record a soundtrack to the autumn poetry of Piotr Wójcik, Tadeusz Miciński, Ivan Krasko and one more Czech poet, although I will not attempt to decline his surname through the grammatical cases (Jaroslav Vrchlický – ed.-in-chief).

For the first listen, I would suggest treating it precisely as a backdrop to the images created by the poems in the booklet, if only to quickly discover that this music has a much more universal character. It is simply not dark enough to evoke images focused solely on the clichéd elements of the philosophy of the third season of the year: transience and despondency. And that is a very good thing! There is also room here for delight and a subtle cheerfulness; after all, autumn also means beautiful colours, and leaves fall from the trees and fly with the wind like butterflies (a motif from Miciński’s poem). Even while tucking your neck beneath a scarf, you can still smile. And calmly continue walking, with headphones on your ears and Xperimenta on the player. Charming cafés may then, by some magical means, seem more inviting than usual.