I grew up during times when parents didn’t think twice about exposing children to the unsettling and the mysterious. Television options were scarce, with RAI 1, the Italian equivalent of the BBC, providing a window into a world that left an indelible mark. Consequently, many Italian acts I cherish, such as Novembre, Messa, and Ufomammut, come steeped in nostalgia, recalling glimpses into realms I mayhaps shouldn’t have explored. Enter Ponte del Diavolo (Italian for Devil’s Bridge), a band that has been steadily releasing EPs since 2020 and have now ventured into the realm of their first LP. I jumped into this with no expectation and emerged from the experience utterly perplexed. This is a nation of people who seem to possess a unique grasp of religion, moody atmosphere, and the art of seamlessly blending these into music, transporting me back to a distant past in front of my parents’ black and white television.
Ponte del Diavolo not only will not wear what they’re about on the sleeve of their gothic garments but they will do whatever they can to escape being pigeonholed into a specific genre. Starting off strong with “Demone”, you’d think this is your typical black metal number, but when their singer Erba del Diavolo makes an entrance not 40 seconds in, she shatters all expectations by leading listeners into an echoing post punk/dark wave territory, like a shrieking Siouxie Sioux that has enough force to captivate but not detract from everything else going on. This song emerges gradually, drawing you in with black metal elements before providing a moment of respite, only to then reintroduce tension. The lyrics weave well into this play: the endless subject infant is tentatively poking their head out of the mother’s chest, unsure of whether to embrace or tear her apart.
With two bass players in tow, Ponte del Diavolo don’t resort to gimmickry but instead enrich their sound with a brooding texture. In fact, I often felt that each instrument contributes to an atmosphere redolent of Ennio Morricone’s work on ‘La Piovra’ or Fabio Frizzi’s haunting horror soundtracks. Del Diavolo seamlessly transitions between post punk hooks and softer growls, and it often seems that it’s these little things and change ups that keep the album cohesive and intriguing. The band have a gripping ability to stealthily shift between doom, post punk, and what I can only describe as post metal. They do so without bells and whistles but they do incorporate Theremin and clarinet as natural extensions of their sound, masterfully building suspense and evoking a sense of unease. Switching between Italian and English adds another layer of engagement, with moments like the eerie “la la la la la” in “Red as Sex…” reminiscent of Krzysztof Komeda’s “Lullaby from Rosemary’s Baby” (which, theme considering, I’m not convinced is an unintentional addition).
Ponte del Diavolo took me though a subtle journey through moods and genres. Ultimately, Fire Blades From The Tomb started seeming less about the occult and more about transformation, and the connection between music and certain feelings — however this became apparent after a number of plays. It’s a debut of a visceral and nostalgic quality that I don’t often come across, and if you allow yourself to be carried away, I’m sure you’ll discover a captivating experience waiting to be embraced.
