Album Review: My Soul Has Nought But Fire And Ice
So, you’re scrolling through your streaming service, looking for something to shake up your playlist. Maybe you’ve overdosed on lo-fi beats or those same five pop songs everyone’s been humming since last summer. Enter My Soul Has Nought But Fire And Ice, a 2017 release from the Stradivarius label that feels like someone invited Bach, Vaughan Williams, and Holst to an Italian villa for a jam session—but with modern vibes sprinkled in like chili flakes on pasta.
This album is a smorgasbord of classical goodness with a twist of contemporary flair. It’s not just some dusty old maestro flexing their scales; it’s alive, raw, and kinda quirky. The credits list Hartmut Schulz doing baritone vocals (and writing liner notes—multitasking hero!) while Maurizio Barbetti handles viola duties. Oh, and props to Francesco Sardella, the sound engineer who made sure this didn’t sound like it was recorded in someone’s bathroom.
Now, let’s talk tracks. There are 24 of them, which honestly feels like a lot unless you’re binge-watching TV shows about serial killers. Two stood out to me enough to make my ears perk up like a dog hearing a squeaky toy.
First off, there’s "With Rue My Heart Is Laden." This one hits hard because it sounds like if Shakespeare got into composing music after too much red wine. The lyrics? Brooding. The melody? Haunting. It’s the kind of track that makes you want to stare out a rainy window and pretend you have deep thoughts about life—or at least post a moody Instagram story. Schulz’s voice here is rich and velvety, like hot cocoa spiked with existential dread. You can practically hear him sigh between phrases.
Then we’ve got "Fugue 3" from "Tre Fughe da L’Arte Della Fuga di J.S. Bach." If Bach had a Twitter account, he’d probably tweet cryptic things like “counterpoint is life” and “harmony > chaos.” This piece feels like his ghost showing up to say, “Hey, I’m still relevant!” It’s intricate without being pretentious, like solving a Rubik’s cube but way more satisfying. Maurizio Barbetti’s viola work shines here—it’s smooth yet sharp, like slicing butter with a samurai sword.
The rest of the album keeps the energy going, blending older styles with fresh ideas. Tracks like "I Sing Of A Maiden" bring a folksy charm, while others dive headfirst into avant-garde territory. It’s like they couldn’t decide whether to throw a Renaissance fair or an experimental art exhibit, so they did both. And honestly? It works.
Here’s the thing about My Soul Has Nought But Fire And Ice: it doesn’t try too hard to impress you. Instead, it invites you into its weird little world where fire meets ice, tradition shakes hands with innovation, and nobody cares if you don’t get all the references. By the time you reach "Good-bye," you might find yourself wondering why more classical albums don’t take risks like this.
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like walking into a museum where half the paintings are unfinished—but instead of feeling frustrated, you’re oddly inspired. Or maybe that’s just me. Either way, give it a spin. Who knows? You might discover your new favorite soundtrack for staring dramatically into the void.
