How much you need to know about the concept behind
Emehntehtt-Re depends on what kind of
Magma fan you are. If you're the sort who eats up the French prog legends' cosmic fairytales with a spoon, and are at least fascinated by (if not conversant in) their made-up language of Kobaiian, you're sure to find it thematically significant that
Emehntehtt-Re is meant to be the third part of the Kohntarkosz trilogy, which began with
Magma's 1974 album of the same name, and was finally followed up 30 years later on
Emehntehtt-Re's predecessor, K.A. (Kohntarkosz Anteria). However, the Kohntarkosz concept, which concerns an ancient Egyptian pharaoh, a modern-day explorer, and the search for spiritual enlightenment, probably won't hold much interest for you if you're the other kind of
Magma fan, one who doesn't give a fig about the mythology the band's been cooking up since the early ‘70s, and is strictly in it for
Magma's sui generis blend of jazz fusion, art rock, and 20th century classical music. But whichever way your
Magma passion moves you, you're unlikely to be disappointed by
Emehntehtt-Re. Coming a relatively brief four years after the band's first new album in two decades, it shows that they're back in the saddle with a vengeance; both conceptually and musically, it harks back to
Magma's ‘70s glory days. Drummer/composer/bandleader
Christian Vander and his vocalist/wife
Stella may be the only holdovers from that bygone era, but the former's dark, dramatic vision remains undeniably intact, and the musicians who round out the 21st century version of the band possess both the spirit and the discipline -- this is music with no margin for error -- to keep carrying the tradition forward. The bulk of
Emehntehtt-Re is taken up by the four-part title suite, which incorporates all the elements of the classic
Magma sound -- lightning-fast bass runs, stormy-but-fleet
Elvin Jones-influenced drumming,
Bartok-meets-
Mahavishnu Orchestra harmonic sensibilities, and vocals that alternate between creepy, Carl Orff-like group chants and solo singing that combines stentorian, operatic tones and jazzy ululations. Discounting a quick outro, things close with the doomy clang of "Funehrarium Kanht," a properly intimidating track that could have fallen off the soundtrack to the scariest gothic horror film never made. Spooky, jazzy, bewildering, intimidating -- if that doesn't add up to classic-sounding
Magma, what does?