Humanity has spent several thousand years digging up dead civilizations, deciphering their peculiar symbols, and wondering whether the gods our ancestors worshipped might have been onto something. Of course, given our species’ remarkable talent for turning every promising belief system into an excuse for bloodshed, one suspects the ancient deities would be rather disappointed with their descendants. Yet the appetite for forbidden knowledge persists, especially among those who find the modern world spiritually bankrupt and considerably less interesting than whatever might be sleeping beneath six feet of prehistoric soil.
From the Lisbon area of Portugal comes Reptil Ibérico Emissões, the musical undertaking of Miguel Branco, whose latest album, Obsidian, ventures into the uneasy territory where gothic rock, post-punk, ancient mythology, and cosmic horror begin exchanging disturbing ideas. Featuring seven original compositions, the record draws upon the existential anxieties of contemporary life while entertaining the possibility that humanity’s troubles began considerably earlier than recorded history.
The album’s recent single, Permafrost, takes particular inspiration from H.P. Lovecraft, that wonderfully disturbed gentleman who spent much of his literary career suggesting that human civilization amounted to an insignificant accident in a universe populated by entities with appalling manners. Archaeology, geology, forgotten cultures, and the resurrection of ancient gods all feed Branco’s fascination with worlds buried beneath our own. Even the title suggests something preserved beyond its natural expiration date, awaiting the unfortunate fool who decides to thaw it out.
Its accompanying homemade video, meanwhile, offers a deliciously peculiar excursion into folk horror, complete with animal-masked figures gathered around a picnic table before embarking upon an increasingly bizarre dance at dusk.
There is considerable humour in the spectacle, particularly in the mundane domesticity of these costumed apparitions, whose mysterious gathering could equally concern agricultural fertility, supernatural worship, or an exceptionally eccentric neighborhood association. Echoes of The Blair Witch Project and John Carpenter’s cinematic sensibilities contribute to the atmosphere, while the production’s playful amateurism gives the proceedings an appealingly deranged personality. There are also references to The Wicker Man and the strange residents of Midsommar, only somebody forgot to explain whether the guests were attending a celebration or volunteering for sacrifice.
With Obsidian, Branco embraces the romantic absurdity of yearning for civilizations we never experienced and spiritual mysteries we might deeply regret solving. Perhaps the old gods really are coming back. Judging by the picnic, they’ve already reserved a table.
Watch the video for Permafrost below:
Active under the Reptil identity since 2020, Branco has released more than twenty songs in Portuguese and English. His parallel alter ego, Hiena, explores horror-inspired material, while Reptil pursues the romantic desolation of gothic rock, informed by the likes of The Sisters of Mercy, Fields of the Nephilim, Lycia, The Sound, and The Chameleons. More contemporary influences include The Soft Moon, Ritual Howls, and Bleib Modern, alongside the distinctive legacy of Portugal’s 1980s alternative rock movement.
“I’ve been doing music for a long time in bands and by myself, but now I’m closer to the sound I seek, a mix of old and new,” says Branco.
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