Released on the 27th of September, Korfian’s third Ep is called Postfire and follows up last years chapter Event Horizon, leading us into a new perturbing episode that exudes indefatigable will and incessant creativity.
The graphic designer Spyros Psarras embarks on a profound introspection by crafting a world constantly wounded by the oppressing dread of getting out of our shells, exposing each other to a cold-hearted, aseptic world. And once we belt up, the journey across our personal inferno takes place.
But the project itself gravitates around inner soreness that is soon enough universalized: Korfian disseminates his key point along brief reflections on life but not short-lived ideas, they wildly echo while the very next track starts blooming in the eardrum. Past, Love, Roots back their statement into the following tunes by captivatingly preparing the ground. And Postfire declares its intent of being a magnifier for human tribulations, proudly blowing up with immediate effect.
Korfian moniker is by now already synonym for swarms of vocals that bargain for a thrilling shock, his non-binary voice is sensually skin-prickling, and after hearing it the listener inevitably gazes down, hypnotized by the swirling hues, an irregular network of passages ready to blaze everyone away.
Ther is no ὕβϱις in saying that this psychotomimetic odissey is niche stuff: it takes some patience to disentangle all the concealed meanings scattered around: in Fear sequel videoclip he’s silhouetted in several layers of himself, wrapped in instinctive diapositives of symbolism: spiders bestow the power to work magic, while snakes – it goes without saying – are archetype of human betrayals and evil, unspeakable impulses.
Those needs that are daily affected by tarantism and won’t go anywhere anytime soon: the fight for freedom, the urge for being away from past mistakes, the search for a stable future in such dark times. The album production is a remarkable matryoshka: the Gregorian chants-like background of Big Bang perfectly suits Korfian’s eerie, powerfully gothic tone. The combination perfectly walks the audience through formidable heart-breaking scenarios in which it’s easy to get lost if there’s not focus on the several bottom lines of the lyrics.
After bearing up with what it defined a long winter when introducing the Ep, Korfian has finally reached that mindset of human consciousness: Sometimes we don’t have what it takes, He bravely admits, and therefore next step is inevitably summed up into the powerful line: Bury your past. He bangs around with purpose, arguing out his thirst for life and crave for freedom (I am what I am, can we share ourselves without any fear?). He tries to angle for solutions, but living through the present is the only way and Art remains the only possible highway to chase.
This sake for Hic et nunc kicks in Handful of Dirt, the restless agony for the on-the-spot present violently pushes into harsh sounds fiercely translating the message conveyed. It’s a cataclysmal eye that opens up with an operatic, scenic intro. Korfian never backs off: in Big Bang He hands out muscular recommendations learnt along the way: If we could turn back time and take back all the mistakes, but what for?, batting an eye to bands like Drab Majesty, Lust for Youth, Black Marble, slightly glancing at Elisa’s Together.
In Paternal He opposes to the erasure of challenges. Growing up is a lifetime journey involving the maintenance of your roots , for them not to grow out of the fence and damaging you forever. It’s about holding them back, He states. And resonating with his own Greek nationality, He even caresses a morbid idea of patricide, metaphorically conveyed across the image of a decisive root cut.
If it’s true that God always geometrizes – quoting another Greek voice from the past -we can say that this Ep is another masterful score into Korfian’s future as a musician.
At this point, We demand some onstage performances.