ΔΙΑΦΑΝΑ ΚΡΙΝΑ "Κάτι Σαράβαλες Καρδιές" (Wipe Out)

Twelve years have passed since this classic’s record release but it still haunts my dreams. The sextet (those days; later, Panagiotis Berlis abandoned the band), baresark, vomited darkness over the Greek audience and disembodied any hope in people’s lives. This is the glory of the bards! Thanos Anestopoulos (vocals) sounds like the baritone version of Tim Buckley. The envied music of Diafana Krina seems to be still unreachable. Estreped of any musical labels and already experienced in their beautiful debut album, the band members envisaged an inviting creation, a noir masterpiece. Inrush to the senses. They sing of pain like few bands have done so far. Inherited with Ian Curtis’ spirit, they quest for ebon with hypnic melodies and thin hopes. All instruments included in this horrific masterpiece serve one aim: to compose Night’s most beautiful song. The piano and organ themes are essential and ethereal. The glib bass tunes are constantly shaking out dullness. The drum sounds set the teeth on edge. Even the guest cello and pipe sounds (performed by approved national artist, Alkinoos Ioanidis) passionately penetrate into some barren lands. However, the band’s guitar work is its innermost soul. In my opinion, Kyriakos Tsoukalas and Nikos Bardis are the most beautiful guitar duet ever existed. Don’t point to me. I totally believe this. Sometimes nerveless, other times angry, the guitars of Diafana Krina ever led the band’s breath-catching composures. Impellent of this musical darkness, the guitar themes indicate any small pain, desertion, eutaxy, evolvement or poise. This record (and not only) is an outright masterpiece. It is often put in public obloquy for it is used for people to snob Greek music and especially Greek lyrics. Three of the songs include lines from Greek, Cypriot and Spanish poetry and Diafana Krina somehow outshine in their own poetic lyrics, too. A complete work of art. Pain and darkness in plenty. The record moves through pleomorphism, though is sacred to quality soddened souls. Edgar Allan Poe would prance about this. Too clever at halves. Heartily made.

Miltos XIC

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