There is something distinctly vertical about Aquile E Cieli music that seems to rise, circle, and hover rather than move in a straight line. Baco Di Silenzio's latest work feels less like a conventional album and more like an aerie suspended between earth and sky, where currents of sound carry fragments of memory, ritual, and quiet revelation. It is a record that breathes slowly, stretches patiently, and rewards close listening rather than casual consumption. At the centre of this project is Salvatore Scuderi (Baco Di Silenzio), whose role as composer, lyricist, vocalist, and manipulator of effects gives the album a strong authorial imprint. His approach is not that of a flashy frontman but of an alchemist blending field recordings, subtle electronic processing, and vocal textures into a kind of meditative prog-poetry. His voice often feels less like a lead instrument and more like another layer of the landscape: sometimes intimate, sometimes distant, sometimes fragmented into echo and reverberation. When lyrics surface clearly, they feel like fragments of dream or myth rather than narrative storytelling. The rhythmic backbone is largely shaped by Maurizio Antonini, whose drumming appears on most of the album's tracks. Antonini avoids conventional rock propulsion in favour of a more elastic, almost jazz-inflected touch. His cymbal work is particularly effective shimmering like light across water while his tom patterns often feel ritualistic, recalling the ceremonial percussion of early Italian prog acts such as Pierrot Lunaire or Stormy Six, but filtered through a modern, atmospheric sensibility. On the low end, the bass duties are shared between Dario Gianni and Roberto Pace. Gianni's contribution is comparatively grounded, lending the opening track a firm, earthy pulse that anchors Scuderi's more ethereal textures. Pace, by contrast, is more fluid and exploratory his lines often glide beneath the surface, intertwining with Antonini's drums in a manner reminiscent of classic Canterbury rhythm sections, albeit in a more spacious and contemplative setting. Musically, Aquile E Cieli inhabits a borderland between progressive rock, ambient sound art, and Italian avant-folk. One hears echoes of Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso's mysticism, Picchio Dal Pozzo's eccentricity, and the atmospheric minimalism of Cluster or Tangerine Dream, yet the album never feels derivative. Instead, it synthesizes these influences into something distinctly contemporary and personal. Structurally, the album tends to favour gradual evolution over dramatic contrast. Themes emerge slowly, mutate, and return in altered forms a technique that gives the record a circular, almost liturgical quality. Certain melodic fragments recur like birds in flight, appearing at different heights and distances across the album's soundscape. The harmonic language is often modal, lending the music a timeless, slightly archaic aura that fits the imagery suggested by the title ("Eagles and Skies"). Production-wise, the album is spacious and carefully layered rather than dense. There is air around every instrument, allowing details to shimmer without clutter. Effects are used tastefully delays and reverbs extend sounds into imagined architectural spaces, but never swamp the organic core of the performances. The result is music that feels simultaneously intimate and vast. If Aquile E Cieli has a limitation, it is that its subtlety may frustrate listeners seeking immediacy or overt drama. This is not a record of hooks or anthems; it is one of slow revelations. Yet for those willing to inhabit its atmosphere, the album unfolds as a richly textured journey. At 39 minutes the album is, by today's standards, a little short. In the end, Baco Di Silenzio has crafted a work that feels less like a statement and more like a state of being: suspended between silence and flight, between the human and the elemental. A fine, distinctive addition to the modern European progressive canon. ***+ David Carswell Where to buy? |
