Band:	Lacuna Coil
Album:	Unleashed Memories
Style:	Gothic metal
Release date:	2001
Guest review by:	ProfZero

01. Heir Of A Dying Day
02. To Live Is To Hide
03. Purify
04. Senzafine
05. When A Dead Man Walks
06. 1:19
07. Cold Heritage
08. Distant Sun
09. A Current Obsession
10. Wave Of Anguish

A lonely evening, almost 15 years ago now. Pitch black outside, cut by dense streaks of fog. No sounds, no noises; the quiet standstill of nature slowly freeing itself from the grasp of winter.

As soon as I plugged in the CD, I thought that the verses that were coming outside of the stereo were spoken, not sang. I had the sudden, clear impression that someone else was still awake that night, not too far away, whispering to me words of anguish, and self-struggle. Someone could not further hide the feelings in her chest any further, and opened her heart abruptly, emotions flowing like a torrent: warm, inescapable, pure. Only a little later I noticed the music, a new melody, that could be either potent or melancholic, yet in each case so perfectly fused with that stream of sentiments spilling over and over.

A woman was crying, heart-broken. The music became intricate, a chorus to her cry; as the faith in her lover shattered, she seemed to turn to her inner self, the vision of a memory of fading faith, love and devotion. Pity flooded me, besides the majesty of her feelings, past, and present. Purification came just about then, and I witnessed the chrysalis of a new woman leaving her shadows behind. It was she now to dominate the instruments, reclaiming back her life - yet only to be torn once again, in the cynical admission that the life in front of her was nothing that had not already been written. The music became a ticking, that of a pointless, vain clock; drips in a leaking clepsydra. Paranoia. That very existence, unchained from a love betrayed, laid by others in front of her, turned into a cage; yet her stronger self fought now, refusing to take shelter in the past. She talked, and the music followed, never condescending, paving her march to freedom. Wrong turn.

Out of the cage, she finds herself now in a labyrinth, where not even the newly found resolution can guide her. "It's just an illusion," she says; but she's lost now, no place to go back, none of the lying paths in front of her can deceive her anymore. It is then, and only then, when the music is low, that her emotions reach the acme. All that she was; all the things she wanted to say; all the pictures of the past resurge once again, en masse, and almost choke her voice, when she prays those listing to believe in the light growing inside of her. The music once again soars, lifting her choir, becoming one with her call for forgiveness. Why? What was that crime? She's far now; up from her knees, her voice resounds mighty, as if talking directly to the heavens. There's no regret now, no fragility; even the whirlwind of emotions she had been through could not scratch the feeling she had for her beloved, that now glance at her from afar. She's bidding farewell. The woman that is speaking now is different from that of the beginning of the night. I couldn't tell whether she was relieved, or the weight of all her feelings had become less grave in her at all. She is talking of leaving, and of something taking her sunshine away; asking to be embraced, yet apparently already being abducted where not even the music could reach her.

One solitary night, almost 15 years from now, I plugged Unleashed Memories into my stereo. The CD case was in a soft blood-red carton; a metallic sun-shaped figure marked on it. When I reached the end of it, completely unaware of where one track finished, and the following one started, I couldn't really tell what just happened. I couldn't actually figure out whether I just listened simply to the best album of my life; or whether something more was at play - that the emotions knit with that music had to do with me.

It took me all this time to jot down the best way that I could how delicate, intimate, yet potent this album is. It is not about superior technical skill; it does not stir feelings of impotence or revenge, nor does it carry a definite message. Yet, it still makes it through to the heart, in that it describes emotions so vibrant, so true, to ultimately touch our innermost chords, no matter how deep we bury such feelings inside of us.

I am way too partial to objectively describe Lacuna Coil's first (and to me, sole and last) masterpiece. I could quickly dismiss it, citing the superb "To live is to hide," the rapturing melody of "Senzafine" or the vocal explosion of Cristina in "Distant Sun"; none of this would even remotely grab what this album is. To seize the inner gems of this album, you'll need to prepared to its flow of sentiments.

A lonely evening might serve you well in this.