Ataraxia - La Malédiction D'Ondine

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Ataraxia - La Malédiction DOndine
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Price: € 9

A brand new chapter opened in Ataraxia's history. This 'invocation/evocation' 14 tracks album of several female figures, from mythology, drowned by the sea presents songs sung in French, English and Italian and the ever enchanting Francesca's voice which soar across the rich tableaux of guitars and keyboards, sometimes just a backdrop. A despairing but simultaneously uplifting album which will strike the ones who have never listened to it till today. Some reviews from around the world: ëbreathtakingly beautiful. Solemn, sorrowful, melancholic and devastatingly pure...í (Dark Angel, Australia)

An hour of deeply ascensional listening & legendary visions written by heart & light (Rockerilla, Italy)

Finishing off this wonderful album is the dreamy ëOndineí, a soft and sweeping song which rounds off things nicely and leaves you in a dreamy moodí (Low Life, England)

Ataraxiaís album reflects far off atmospheres, the golden aura of classic Greece, the marble sound epitaphs of Middle Ages and the mysticism and legends of the feminine figures drowned in the sea...í (Phosphor, Belgium)

Ataraxia are among the ultimate bands of the 90ís shall have the success they deserve!í(Fight Amnesia, Germany)

Enveloped by the waves, dragged by the streams of the rivers, sucked by the gloomy overflowings of the lakes the echo of the ups and downs of many female souls repeats itself an infinite number of times, we've heard that dirge, we've made of it more than one song and we're repeating the tunes like the echo of an echo, we are repeating them to you. Ondine were nymphs of the streams, of the marshes, of the lacustrine surfaces, they were both women and goddesses, a medley far from perfection, Ondine could kill dragging us in the whirlpool of their pain and death, always consumed by water, Ondine could love passionately, like women, with all the sublime burden of the primordial instinct derived from water and earth. Ondine it's also a curse, the neurologists describe it as an apnoea that happens while sleeping and if one doesn't wake up it will wake somewhere else, anchored to the seaweeds braids of a deep sea or stranded on a branckish smell beach. We've caught the laments of so many mermaids who feed themselves spasmodically and greedily with their own pasts when they were of bones and flesh. You'll listen to the tragic legend about who is dead like an Ondina many centuries ago, in reality, in the books or simply in the dreams. There's Medusa whose hair of snakes creates figures in movement, there's the persecuted by religion thrown with burdens at her feet in the waters, there's who has spent only one ecstatic wedding night and who rests buried in the billows with the beloved companion at her side, there's who has been victim of a shipwreck and who is born again modeling herself in the womb of the earth, there's a woman who has become a star and who wanders blue like her home, the sea, there's who has made her first wedding bed the shore of a river and who, aware of the perpetrated iniquities, serves the never ending punishment, there's also who cynically puts death above all, as a mechanistic necessity that unifies people, and there's also our chant for all those souls made of regret and struggle, for they rest in peace.

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