Mike Mangione
By Amanda Kuba
Tenebrae
Oarfin Records

Imagine being in a cluttered old bookshop, perusing through a multitude
of interesting and worthwhile works, when, hidden away in the furthest
corner of the room, a particular title catches your eye. You feel drawn
towards it as if it holds a magnetic power, and from the moment you
pick it up you know that this book is special as it already begins whispering
valuable secrets to you before you've turned the first page. This is
similar to the uncanny experience of discovering Mike Mangione's latest
album, Tenebrae.
Taking its name for the Latin word for "shadow," like The
Book of Shadows, this album seems to possess something coveted and
sacred, drawing listeners in and capturing them in its mesmerizing clutches.
By the time Mangione sings, "Give me your trust and let's get out
of this place" halfway through the first song, you're already spellbound
and there's no turning back.
Originally from a Chicago suburb, Mangione and his brother Tom began
making music together at a young age. The young boys accidentally learned
to play the guitar upside down, but by the time they realized their
error they were quite skilled at this method and have stuck with it
ever since. The brothers have come a long way from playing Led Zeppelin
and U2 in their mom's basement, but in a sense, not much has changed.
Tom is a co-writer and guitarist on Tenebrae, and the two are
constantly collaborating on ideas and working on something new together.
Listening to Tenebrae straight through is comparable to reading
a novel in the way it explores a particular theme extensively while
spinning an emotional journey. Tenebrae hooks us in the beginning
by effectively creating that elusive feeling of familiarity and wonder,
resonating at the soul-level and inevitably leaving us wanting more.
Just as a skilled novelist meticulously crafts a story's structure,
Mangione seems to have arranged the album's tracks to impart a distinct
emotional impression on his listeners.
"The twelve songs look at redemption from all angles from before,
during and after redemption takes place," he says. "There
is also a theme of receptivity," he continues, "throughout
the album. The album does not come out at you but rather invites you
in. For this reason we chose "Waiting For No One" as the opening
song; it's a good representation of the rest of the album
anti-aggressive."
Indeed, after the initial appeal of the opening number, the following
eleven tracks effortlessly lead into one another, progressing like a
bedtime fairytale with soft, acoustic melodies. The first five songs
seem to be building towards a climax, effectively creating a strong
atmosphere and setting the tone before delving into the darker depths
of the redemption theme. Meanwhile, the second half of the album seems
to hone in on the notion that the true path to redemption is through
an agonizing process of self-reflection, demanding acknowledgment of
painful afflictions from the past.
Launching off Tenebrae's second half with "Slowdown,"
Mangione sings of an ambiguous "she" who proclaims that, "There's
something deeper going on and it's time that it gets heard," subtly
reminding us that often the most meaningful things are frightening and
difficult. Particularly on the last five tracks, the subject of memory
and the subsequent torture it can produce is a prominent presence. On
"Now That It's Done, Won't You Come Back," Mangione laments:
"Regrets bleed when my memories go from my head to my heart."
Later, an especially emotional song titled "A Requiem For the
Trash: Damnatio Memoriae," contains lines like "remembrances
linger casting long shadows" and "the dead cannot rise again,"
elucidating the profound struggle of living with a ghost of the memory
of a lost lover. Literally meaning damnation of memory, the phrase "Damnatio
Memoriae" refers to an ancient practice in Rome of erasing all
evidence of a person's existence upon their death as a form of punishment
and complete dishonor.
As for the origin of the album's title, Mangione explained: "If
we imagine redemption as having light in our lives, Light being the
Good and dark being the despair absent of the Good, Tenebrae
is a fitting title. So if the album deals with the subject of redemption
in its many stages, a shadow deals with light at many stages. Sometimes
the shadow can be long and dark, sometimes bright and near, it really
depends on the placement of the light and your proximity to it. Sometimes
the light is far from us, sometimes very, very near, just like redemption.
The songs on Tenebrae vary like a shadow."
Mangione's exploration through the shadows concludes with "Mama,
Be Not Afraid," a song that begins by reassuring us that, "In
the darkness light is shone" and leaves off with the sage advice:
"From the gray we must choose / If you don't learn how to give
your life / There's no life for you to lose." In the scope of time
between opening the CD case and hearing the final, lingering note of
"Mama, Be Not Afraid," Tenebrae has explored every
aspect on the light spectrum from the darkest, ominous shadows through
the stagnant and tedious degrees of gray, and ultimately to the gleaming
brightness of relief.
This is an album about the human experience, and a true treasure to
behold.