My Review: Slowdive - Souvlaki

 My Review:

Slowdive - Souvlaki

In the complexity of needs is necessary to explore and leave everything behind: the suitcase is in our mind, in the directions to take and in the will to reach the indefinite, the unknown.

That is probably what the shoegaze band with the sexiest sound did, those Slowdive that with Eps and their debut album had excited thousands of souls into dreams and led them to impulses close to rapture.

Just For A Day changed the musical sky, marked the need for many to rummage through its jewels and enjoy a breath of oxygen composed of atoms of velvet-skinned music to the ninth degree.

Then the band packed that suitcase I mentioned before and wrote a new chapter of amazement. 

Because it is by surprising oneself that one puts a distance between oneself and what one has done in the past, which is often the very mental limit for exploring new territories.

The sonic fairy tale writers from Reading have learnt to paint clouds by dancing, smiling, corrupting sadness towards the most determined melancholy with the handbrake on. And this is how Souvlaki has found a way to give the band freshness and more luminosity to their talent, which, I would like to remind and specify, is not caused by the beauty of the compositions, but by the agility with which they find the needs and ways to write songs that are the only expression of all this. For many, the five have lost the courage to experiment, whereas in my opinion, if this is the most important thought (not for me, let us be clear), they have done so precisely because they have created new clothes for themselves, in their approach and in their performance.

It is an album that represents difficult moments, especially for Neil, who managed to penetrate his soul by giving his hands structures that exchange affection between heaven and planet Earth.

It is a work full of colours, wide-ranging atmospheres, which move nimbly, making it a den of surprises and admirable insights: the compositional form is diluted, the sound becomes more important and gives the songs a soft but at the same time solid dress.

It feels like entering into a fairytale, a reading that becomes a movie for our eyes because of a sensation that grips us all in the poetry of sound architectures that are always agile and intimate. It is not only rarefaction of sound but also of one's own beats, of breaths that seek entrances. It is a way to leave this now dirty and dusty ground to raise our gaze into the currents of the sky: Souvlaki becomes just that, the set of heavenly vocalizations with sensory movements which paralyses and guides towards the ecstasy, that puts the right distance between boredom and the tribulations of existence. It creates a parenthesis, a chance to conjoin a limpid extreme that seemed unattainable. The guitars prove capable of bending sublime sound waves, moving everything towards a sound that glues us to listen, nourishes the psychedelic part by transforming it into pulsating paths of Shoegaze and Alternative, to balance the order of beauty towards the explosion.

The songwriting is breezy, pop, romantic, it strips away the idea and concept of Shoegaze to bring it to the banks of the melodic river contemplating new connections, thus distributing new spells and sprinkling the reservoir of this genre with new vibrant possibilities.

Everything seems to have been conceived in the hyperbaric room where playful and dreamlike activity meet, to create the defence of their creative process. Here we find acoustic guitars, unreleased stop-and-go, new sound assemblages that enter the heart with their lightness and brightness.

I define it as an album that integrates and creates distance in the first part of their career, a robust (and successful) attempt to separate a sound that is multiple and capable of being stimulating, relevant and fundamental to many new bands, to make it a drop and a feather and begin a new flight, that trespasses and leaves us behind, open-mouthed. It is not easy to grasp and even more to take possession of all its beauty without being calm and methodical in studying it, because we are faced with new exercises in style and the magnets that are released from their past must be loved, without fear.

There is a notable identity push, a divergence, a proceeding towards an emotional impact that grows, track by track, with the hourglass smiling happily, since it witnesses a path that certifies clear ideas, driven not only by talent but above all by a structural work that is in any case avant-garde of Shoegaze.

A really effective listening not only reveals the content of the album but also puts us in a position to see our thoughts stratified, amplified to bring out our needs for a continuous afflatus, towards what releases all toxins inside emptiness. Once this happens Souvlaki becomes a generous and precious friend.

And then swimming in the placid, clean waters of these tracks will be not a pleasant pastime, but a precious ally for our mental and physical balance.

Like a bouquet from the end of the millennium, Souvlaki is able to carry the scents of a time that, although fatigued, is still capable of inebriating: not everything is to be thrown away in the last decade of the 20th century and this album offers surgical brushstrokes of diamonds in perennial form, without wear and tear. Bass lines like rubber hammers not to hurt, shadowy guitars, massive without overflowing and silvery and restless.

One experiences the gallant introspection of a flow of energy channelling towards extreme latitudes. With its visceral approach, this group of candles with their faint flames succeeds in making possible a listening experience that turns out to be a carrier of frost and rainbows held by a thread: only ignorance could let them escape.

So let there be room for the fluctuating wanderings of atoms connected to the candid and forbidding abundance of melodic, almost nostalgic lines, a modality that would seem illogical from such young guys. But there is a conscious maturity in them: they are elected by the state of grace and the gods. Their dreamlike distortions are the handmaidens of the marriage between perfection and enchantment, amidst non-stop acrobatics.

And when the notes seem sad, we discover their own happiness: it is all situated in dynamics that suspend feelings to make them subtle and volatile. They seem capable of fading the typical manner of those years that tended to make shoegaze a cliché. They go further. 

A precious album, conceived with love for love, that is a supernova not only in the sky of Reading, as from this work many suggestions become inspirations, aspirations for new bands aimed at having the same way of controlling the evolution and specification of an artistic path, with the strength of a fragility that becomes a feather in our fears.

In the delicacy of this musical advent, one arrives at the lucid sensation of being overwhelmed by dreams and realities that have managed to locate themselves in those notes, clinging to the band's need to get married with this row of blue-faced beats. 

But if all this doesn't convince you, because you are too bound to their debut, please be honest and curious listening to Rachel's voice: she who has created a new way of singing surpasses herself and makes her presence even smaller, but even more shining is the meaning, the capacity of a song that kisses fragility, exhaustion, fear and becomes a heartbeat with reverberation in the heart. A girl who knows how to be powerful without vocalizations, who is able to make you dream and feel all the lightness of the world even in moments of difficulty, because she is capable of making her instrument agree with the infinity of the universe. And the new compositions, more intimate and dilated, are perfectly compacted by this inclination of hers to be the girl who sings with her voice just hinted, almost hiding it, so as not to disturb. With Neil, the amalgam has grown and the interplay of alternating and sharing singing parts reaches the throne of perfection, unquestionably. There is no need to give the power of the record exaggerated singing because Souvlaki lives inside the heartstrings and radiates the mind with ease, gliding over magical guitars that become the airport from which to separate from all the other bands for a unique flight. Souvlaki was released when the flame of grunge was extinguishing and thus made people feel the need to listen in order not to forget Seattle and its surroundings. Britpop was coming out as a healthy illusory catastrophe and on average everything that was extraordinarily unique about the record of the guys from Reading was not approached in the right way. Revolutionary (many would have realised this guiltily late), the guitars came to Ambient music, with the pedals adept at creating carpets of new and innovative magic, displaying miles and miles of versatility, still capable of remaining extremely valid today. They were able to deceive the pressure of the second album, which for many had to repeat the amazement generated by the first (Brian Eno's self-imposed presence was reduced to a minimum, a sign of an immense and confident character), writing songs like oxygen cylinders of their own treasure chests, new stars elected by the heavens for eternity, making this second act the most loved by the vast majority of people who adore these impenetrable guys. The reasons lie within the mystery that three decades have yet to explain. And when you can't explain a mystery, the attraction, the devotion become the combination for eternal life.

Through it all, what follows will not be a true description of each of their songs, but an act of love with open arms, because you can embrace these heavenly whispers, learn them by heart, play them, but you will always be kept away from understanding their richness, and that is the attraction you cannot escape...

Song by Song

Alison

It is traditional 60's pop in a soft dress, able to bring the gaze into Neil's sly cat voice. In the refrain, Rachel's effective contribution launches the song towards a meeting between psychedelic The Byrds and the clouds of Reading.

Machine Gun

Pure rarefaction: the debut here returns in its evidence, a unique episode that reveals how DNA cannot be forgotten, even if only for a moment. Moving, it vibrates inside guitars full of sulphur and sunshine, in the afternoon in need of magic, while Rachel fascinates us forever with her enchanting coloured uvula.

40 Days

And here we have a new example of this evolution: pop fragments, a predisposition to the verse in which to cradle the melody like a waiting sowing, then creating the instrumental part as a true attraction towards the full abandonment of the senses.

Sing

A composition that detects the experimentation necessary to approach new shores, it sees the presence of Brian Eno, who probably picked up signals of life on Mars. We gravitate into the astonishment of an unexpected hypnosis, a surfing on drumming made ethereal and almost distant, with Rachel's voice revealing a smile from that planet, with the electronic part advancing between psychedelia and new age. 

Here She Comes

This track knocks on Brian's angelic keyboards, with slide guitars pregnant with subtle, liquid, melancholy glimmers, for a journey inside the thin line of the glimpsed fairytale.

Souvlaki Space Station

With a beginning reminiscent of the mighty riffs of Héroes Del Silencio, the song soon travels inside the bubble of dust and sweetness blended perfectly, to make this long demonstration of class the base for the unattainable voice of Rachel, Goddess of the heart, mother of dreams made of kisses. A sea of guitars like divine waves to allow pauses and new beginnings to keep the tension of joy at incredible levels.

When the Sun Hits

The gods return to decide that a song can be their breath, amidst the melancholic lanes of descriptions that are transparent-faced paintings. Rapture, the magnet of every dream made real, a pulsing globe of blessed magnificence, this is the point from which ideas and impressions separate to compact, together with powerful brushstrokes and riffs, towards the garden of absolute pleasure. And the place to experience the impulses of a sun in need of affection: Slowdive give it in incredible quantities with the perfect song.

Altogether

The waters slow down, the senses remove the frost from their skin and play in the decadent but at the same time very sweet ballad that sees the guys legitimise the remarkable impact of a crescendo that doesn't need to explode to contaminate our listening pleasures: it remains a sweet caress of two hundred and twenty seconds, essential to share their delicate propulsions.

Melon Yellow

Neil dresses his voice in salt and honey, the music, subtle and delicate, like a sleeping thunderbolt, manages to feel the urgency of visiting chills by whispering its presence, bewitching the atmosphere with magnificent effectiveness.

Dagger

The first idea of what will become the Mojave 3 project, giving space to the need to make the movement of clouds acoustic, the track is a breath of light, among the voices that combine with the need to sink dreams into welcoming lungs.

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

16th July 2022

https://open.spotify.com/album/53eHm1f3sFiSzWMaKOl98Z?si=G6X80XcTT4WeyxgnPlbdbg

La mia Recensione: Slowdive - Souvlaki

 La mia Recensione:

Slowdive - Souvlaki

Nella complessità dei bisogni occorre esplorare e lasciarsi tutto alle spalle: la valigia è nella mente, nelle direzioni da prendere e nella volontà di raggiungere l’indefinito, lo sconosciuto.

Deve aver fatto così la Shoegaze band dal suono più sexy, quegli Slowdive che con Eps e l’album di esordio avevano eccitato migliaia di anime in sogni e condotto verso pulsioni vicine all’estasi.

Just For A Day ha cambiato il cielo musicale, segnato la necessità per molti di rovistare dentro i suoi gioielli e di godere di una boccata di ossigeno composto da atomi di musica dalla pelle di velluto alla ennesima potenza.

Poi la band ha fatto quella valigia di cui parlavo e ha scritto un nuovo capitolo dello stupore. 

Perché è sorprendendosi che si mette la distanza con ciò che si è fatto in passato, che costituisce spesso proprio il limite mentale per sondare nuovi terreni.

Gli scrittori di fiabe soniche di Reading hanno imparato a dipingere le nuvole danzando, sorridendo, corrompendo la tristezza verso la più determinante malinconia col freno a mano tirato. Ed è così che Souvlaki ha trovato il modo di conferire alla band freschezza e maggior luminosità al talento, che, vorrei ricordare e specificare, non è dato dalla bellezza delle composizioni, bensì dall’agilità con la quale si individuano necessità e modalità per creare canzoni che siano l’unica espressione di tutto questo. I cinque hanno per molti perso il coraggio di sperimentare, mentre a mio avviso, se questo è il pensiero più importante (non per me, sia chiaro), l’hanno fatto proprio perché si sono confezionati abiti nuovi, nell’approccio e nella resa.

È un album che rappresenta momenti difficili, specialmente per Neil, che è riuscito a penetrare la sua anima donando alle sue mani strutture che si scambiano affetto tra il paradiso e il pianeta Terra.

Un lavoro pieno di colori, di atmosfere ampie, che si muovono agilmente, che rendono il tutto un covo di sorprese e ammirevoli intuizioni: dilatata la forma compositiva, il suono diventa più importante e conferisce alle canzoni un abito morbido ma al contempo solido.

Sembra di entrare dentro una favola, una lettura che diventa un film per i nostri occhi a causa di una sensazione che ci stringe tutti nella poesia di architetture sonore sempre agili e intime. Non è solo rarefazione del suono ma anche dei propri battiti, dei respiri che cercano ingressi. È lasciare questo suolo ormai sporco e impolverato per elevare lo sguardo dentro le correnti del cielo: Souvlaki diventa proprio questo, l’insieme di vocalizzi paradisiaci con movenze sensoriali che paralizzano e guidano verso l’estasi che mette la giusta distanza tra la noia e le tribolazioni dell’esistenza. Crea una parentesi, una chance di coniugarsi ad un estremo limpido, che sembrava irraggiungibile. Le chitarre si rivelano in grado di piegare le onde sonore sublimali, spostando il tutto verso un suono che ci incolla all’ascolto, nutre la parte psichedelica trasformandola in sentieri pulsanti di  Shoegaze e Alternative, per equilibrare l’ordine della bellezza verso l’esplosione.

La scrittura è spigliata, pop, romantica, spoglia l’idea e il concetto dello Shoegaze per portarlo sulle rive del fiume melodico che contempla nuove connessioni, distribuendo in questo modo nuovi incantesimi e irrorando il serbatoio di questo genere di nuove vibranti possibilità.

Tutto sembra essere stato concepito nella stanza iperbarica dove si incontrano l’attività ludica e quella onirica, per creare la difesa del proprio processo creativo. Ecco allora chitarre acustiche, stop and go inediti, nuovi assemblaggi sonori che entrano nel cuore per leggerezza e luce.

Lo definisco un album che integra e crea distanza nella prima parte della  loro carriera, un robusto tentativo (riuscito) di separare un suono multiplo e capace di essere stimolante e rilevante e fondamentale per molte nuove band, per renderlo goccia e piuma e iniziare un nuovo volo, che sconfina e ci lascia indietro, a bocca aperta. Non è facile intuire e peggio ancora impossessarsi di tutta la sua bellezza senza avere calma e metodo nello studiarlo, perché ci troviamo innanzi a esercizi nuovi di stile e i magneti che vengono sganciati dal loro passato vanno amati, senza paura.

Vi è una notevole spinta identitaria, un discostarsi, un procedere verso un impatto emozionale che cresce, di brano in brano, con la clessidra che sorride felice, perché testimone di un percorso che certifica idee chiare, pilotate non solo dal talento ma soprattutto da un lavoro strutturale che è in ogni caso avanguardia dello Shoegaze.

Un ascolto davvero efficace non solo rivela il contenuto dell’album ma ci mette nella condizione di vedere i nostri pensieri stratificati, amplificati per andare a far emergere i nostri bisogni di afflati continui, verso ciò che libera tutte le tossine dentro il vuoto. Una volta accaduto tutto questo Souvlaki diventerà un amico generoso e prezioso.

E allora nuotare nelle acque placide e pulite di questi brani sarà non un passatempo gradevole, ma un prezioso alleato per il nostro bilanciamento psico-fisico.

Come un bouquet di fine millennio Souvlaki è in grado di portare i profumi di un tempo che seppur affaticato ancora sa inebriare: non tutto è da buttare dell’ultimo decennio del ‘900 e questo album propone pennellate chirurgiche di diamanti in forma perenne, senza usura. Linee di basso come martellate di gomma per non ferire, chitarre umbratili, massicce senza strabordare e argentee e inquiete.

Si vive l’introspezione galante di un flusso di energia che convoglia verso latitudini estreme. Con il suo fare viscerale, questo gruppo di candele dalla fiamma tenue riesce a rendere possibile un ascolto che risulta essere portatore sano di brina e arcobaleni tenuti per un filo: solo l’ignoranza potrebbe lasciarsele scappare.

E allora sia spazio al fluttuante peregrinare di atomi connessi all’abbondanza candida e proibita di linee melodiche, quasi nostalgiche, una modalità che da parte di ragazzi così giovani parrebbe illogica. Ma in loro vi è una maturità consapevole: sono eletti dallo stato di grazia e dagli Dèi. Le loro distorsioni oniriche sono le ancelle del matrimonio tra la perfezione e l’incanto, in mezzo ad acrobazie senza sosta.

E quando le note sembrano tristi ecco che scopriamo la loro stessa felicità: è tutto situato in dinamiche che sospendono i sentimenti per renderli sottili e volatili. Sembrano capaci di far sbiadire la maniera tipica di quegli anni che tendeva a fare dello Shoegaze un cliché. Loro vanno oltre. 

Un album prezioso, pensato con amore per l’amore, che è una supernova non solo nel cielo di Reading, in quanto da questo lavoro molte suggestioni diventano ispirazioni, aspirazioni per nuove band volte avere lo stesso modo di controllare l’evoluzione e la specificazione di un percorso artistico, con la forza di una fragilità che diventa una piuma dentro le nostre paure.

Nella delicatezza di questo avvento musicale si approda alla sensazione, lucida, di essere travolti da sogni e realtà che sono riusciti a localizzarsi in quelle note, appiccicandosi al bisogno della band di convolare a nozze con questa fila di battiti dalla faccia blu. 

Ma se tutto questo non vi convince, perché troppo legati al loro esordio, siate onesti e curiosi nell’ascoltare la voce di Rachel: colei che ha creato un modo nuovo di cantare supera se stessa e rende ancora più piccola la sua presenza, ma ancora più lucente è il significato, la capacità di un canto che bacia la fragilità, la spossatezza, la paura e diventa un battito di ciglio con il riverbero nel cuore. Una ragazza che sa essere potente senza vocalizzi, che riesce a farti sognare e sentire tutta la leggerezza del mondo anche dentro momenti di difficoltà, perché capace di fare del suo strumento l’accordo con l’infinito dell’universo. E le nuove composizioni, più intime e dilatate, vengono compattate perfettamente da questa sua inclinazione a essere la ragazza che canta con la voce accennata, quasi nascondendola, per non disturbare. Con Neil l’amalgama è cresciuto e i giochi di alternanza e di condivisione delle parti cantate raggiunge il trono della perfezione, indiscutibilmente. Non è necessario dare alla potenza del disco canti esagerati perché Souvlaki vive dentro le corde del cuore e irradiando la mente con facilità, planando sulle chitarre magiche che diventeranno l’aeroporto da cui separarsi da tutte le altre band per un volo unico. Souvlaki è uscito quando la fiamma del grunge si spegneva e quindi ha fatto provare alla gente la necessità dell’ascolto per non dimenticare Seattle e dintorni. Il Britpop veniva fuori come una sana catastrofe illusoria e mediamente tutto ciò che era straordinariamente unico nel disco dei ragazzi di Reading non è stato approcciato nella giusta maniera. Rivoluzionario (molti lo avrebbero capito in colpevole ritardo), le chitarre arrivano all’Ambient, con i pedali abili nel creare tappeti di magie nuove e innovative, mostrando chilometri e chilometri di versatilità, ancora oggi capaci di rimanere estremamente validi. Hanno saputo ingannare la pressione del secondo album che doveva per molti ripetere lo stupore generato dal primo (la presenza auto-imposta da Brian Eno venne ridotta al minimo, segno di un carattere immenso e sicuro), scrivendo canzoni come bombole di ossigeno dei propri scrigni, nuove stelle elette dal cielo per l’eternità, facendo alla fine di tutto questo secondo atto di bellezza il più amato dalla stragrande maggioranza delle persone che adorano questi ragazzi impenetrabili. I motivi sono dentro il mistero che tre decenni non hanno ancora avuto modo di spiegare. E quando non sai spiegare un mistero, l’attrazione, la devozione diventano il connubio per la vita eterna.

In tutto questo quello che seguirà non sarà una vera descrizione di ogni loro canzone, ma un atto d’amore con le braccia aperte, perché questi sussurri celestiali li puoi abbracciare, imparare a memoria, suonarli, ma sarai sempre tenuto lontano dal capirne la ricchezza ed è questa l’attrazione a cui non si può sfuggire…

Song by Song

Alison

E’ pop da tradizione 60’s, in un vestito morbido, capace di portare lo sguardo dentro la voce da gatto sornione di Neil. Nel ritornello l’efficace apporto di Rachel lancia il brano verso l’incontro tra i Byrds psichedelici e le nubi di Reading.

Machine Gun

Rarefazione pura: l’esordio qui torna nella sua evidenza, un episodio unico che rivela come il DNA non lo si possa dimenticare, fosse anche solo per un attimo. Commovente, vibra dentro chitarre piene di zolfo e sole, nel pomeriggio bisognoso di magia, mentre Rachel ci rapisce per sempre con la sua ugola color incanto.

40 Days

Ed ecco un nuovo esempio di questa evoluzione: frammenti pop, una predisposizione alla strofa nella quale cullare la melodia come semina in attesa, per poi creare la parte strumentale come vera attrazione verso il pieno abbandono dei sensi.

Sing

Composizione che rileva la sperimentazione necessaria per approcciarsi a nuovi lidi, vede la presenza di Brian Eno che probabilmente avrà captato segnali di vita su Marte. Si gravita dentro lo stupore di una ipnosi inaspettata, un navigare sul drumming reso etereo e quasi distante, con la voce di Rachel che si rivela un sorriso di quel pianeta, con la parte elettronica che avanza tra psichedelia e new age. 

Here She Comes

Bussa alle tastiere angeliche di Brian questo brano, con le slide guitars ingravidate di sottili bagliori, liquidi, immersi di malinconia, per un viaggio dentro la sottile linea della favola intravista.

Souvlaki Space Station

Con un inizio che ricorda i poderosi riff dei Héroes Del Silencio, il brano viaggia presto dentro la bolla di polvere e dolcezza miscelate perfettamente, per rendere questa lunga dimostrazione di classe il basamento per la voce irraggiungibile di Rachel, Dèa del cuore, madre di sogni fatti di baci. Un mare di chitarre come onde divine per consentire pause e nuovi avvii sempre in grado di mantenere la tensione della gioia a livelli incredibili.

When the Sun Hits

Gli Dèi tornano per decidere che una canzone può essere il loro respiro, tra le corsie melanconiche di descrizioni che sono dipinti dalla faccia trasparente. Estasi, calamita di ogni sogno divenuto reale, un globo pulsante di magnificenza benedetta, questo è il punto da cui si separano le idee e le impressioni per compattarsi, insieme a pennellate e riff potenti, verso il giardino del piacere assoluto. E il luogo in cui vivere gli impeti di un sole bisognoso di affetto: gli Slowdive gliene regalano in incredibile quantità con la canzone perfetta.

Altogether

Le acque rallentano, i sensi si tolgono la brina dalla pelle e giocano nella decadente ma al contempo dolcissima ballata che vede i ragazzi legittimare la notevole forza d’impatto di un crescendo che non necessita di esplodere per contaminare i nostri piaceri all’ascolto: rimane una carezza dolce di duecentoventi secondi, essenziale per poter condividere le loro delicate propulsioni.

Melon Yellow

Neil veste la sua voce di sale e miele, la musica, sottile e delicata, come una saetta addormentata, riesce a sentire l’urgenza di visitare i brividi sussurrando la sua presenza, stregando l’atmosfera con magnifica efficacia.

Dagger

Prima idea di quello che diventerà il progetto Mojave 3, dando spazio al bisogno di rendere acustico il movimento delle nuvole, il brano è un respiro di luce, tra le voci che si coniugano al bisogno di affondare i sogni dentro polmoni accoglienti.

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

16 Luglio 2022

https://open.spotify.com/album/53eHm1f3sFiSzWMaKOl98Z?si=G6X80XcTT4WeyxgnPlbdbg

La mia Recensione: The Churchhill Garden - Always There

 La mia Recensione:

The Churchhill Garden - Always There

Anno di grazia 2022

Luogo: Lucerna, Svizzera

Cosa accade: il ritorno del mago Andy e della fata Krissy.

Il mondo decade, perde volontariamente i pezzi, distrugge valori e ne crea nuovi ma poco comprensibili, almeno per lo scriba.

Poi Krissy mette tutto a posto: lei non dimentica la sacralità dell’amicizia e scrive un inno, parole col cuore e la mente connesse per manifestare che quel sentimento rimane prezioso, sposta il mondo verso la bellezza e la concretezza.

Andy è in stato di grazia: come sempre, più di sempre. Dopo averci regalato fiammate Shoegaze avviluppate a melodie dal profumo infinito con Grounded, eccolo tornare con un brano che rivela come la complessità possa essere resa un sorriso nutriente e robusto, con un viaggio di scintille che riporta il tempo a portata di abbraccio. Non mi interessa rilevare o meno alcuni riferimenti che potrebbero essere stati voluti dallo stesso Andy nei confronti di qualche band: quello che respiro in questo collage sonoro è il suo talento nel rendere la sua arte al di sopra di ogni paragone, nel far viaggiare la sua poesia sonora oltre le stelle, nel dare ai nostri respiri fiducia.

E allora troviamo chitarre col brivido appiccicate a note che operano il cuore, un trascinante seguito di grappoli di luce. E chi pensa che lo Shoegaze abbia perso consistenza e possibilità di sviluppo sia così gentile da affacciarsi in questo universo di curve sinuose, con la direzione precisa in ogni suo secondo: si sentirà rassicurato e troverà lacrime a benedire questi 274 secondi di sogno contagioso.

La canzone regala sensazioni infinite, le voci di Krissy diventano pillole di magia, la storia descritta conforta e consola e ci si ritrova con questo dipinto sui nostri piedi danzanti lentamente, mentre la chitarra circonda il nostro stato emotivo, compattandosi con un ritmo che con il ritornello sembra lanciarci verso nuove strade. 

E cosa accade alla fine? Che ci si rende conto che la Musica, grande amica nostra, ci offre persone speciali come Andy e Krissy, per poter esaltare la nostra fortuna.

Always There è la voce di un bisogno che deve essere riconosciuto, portato nel profondo mare di ogni nostro gesto per connettersi con tutto il resto. I miracoli a Lucerna li fa Andy e la fata Krissy li espande: la vita è splendida con The Churchhill Garden!

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford,

15 Luglio 2022

https://open.spotify.com/album/7nevgRdPdoYl5xhByfmjgj?si=OjN2rDT5T96K5gFqI0Fo5A

 2022

My Review: The Churchhill Garden - Always There

 My Review:

The Churchhill Garden - Always There 

Year of grace 2022

Location: Lucerne, Switzerland

What happens: the return of the magician Andy and the fairy Krissy.

The world decays, deliberately falls apart, destroys values and creates new ones but difficult to understand, at least for the scribe.

Then Krissy makes it okay: she does not forget the sacredness of friendship and writes a hymn, words with heart and mind connected to show that feeling remains precious, it moves the world towards beauty and concreteness.

Andy is in a state of grace: as always, more than ever. After giving us shoegaze flames enveloped in infinitely fragrant melodies with Grounded, here he is back with a track that reveals how complexity can be turned into a nourishing and strong smile, with a journey of sparks which brings time back into the condition of being embraced. I'm not interested in detecting or not detecting some references that may or may not have been intended by Andy himself to some bands: what I breathe in this sound collage is his talent in making his art above comparison, in pushing his sound poetry to travel beyond the stars, in giving our breaths confidence.

And so we find guitars able to send shivers down your spine clinging to notes that operate the heart, an enthralling succession of clusters of light. And those who think shoegaze has lost substance and possibilities for development have to be kind enough to look at this universe of sinuous curves, with a precise direction in every second: they will feel reassured and find tears to bless these 274 seconds of contagious dreaming.

The song conveys endless sensations, Krissy's vocals become pills of magic, the story described comforts and consoles, and we find ourselves with this painting on our feet slowly dancing, while the guitar surrounds our emotional state, compacting with a rhythm that with the refrain seems to launch us towards new paths. 

And what happens at the end? That we realise that Music, our great friend, provides us with special people like Andy and Krissy, so that we can exalt our good fortune.

Always There is the voice of a need that has to be recognised, brought into the deep sea of our every gesture to connect with everything else. Andy creates the miracles in Lucerne and the fairy Krissy expands them: life is wonderful with The Churchhill Garden!

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

15th July 2022

https://open.spotify.com/album/7nevgRdPdoYl5xhByfmjgj?si=OjN2rDT5T96K5gFqI0Fo5A

My Review: Diavol Sträin * Elegía del Olvido - Elegía del Horror

 My Review:

Diavol Sträin * Elegía del Olvido - Elegía del Horror

The Chilean city overlooking the harbour has enchanted the Italians so much that they have named it Valley of Paradise: where there is a conquest there is always a foolish kindness. It cannot be denied that those places are fascinating, but let the citizens decide on the name. It is from here that I start: from the name, the beginning of a life with so much of its destiny already determined right from the outset. 

Here we are talking about the dark beauty, the one that does not deny the high expressive capacities of a combo devoted to splendour inside a cave where mysteries and intertwined affairs live on.

The two gothic corsairs create a more complex work than the previous Todi El Caos Abita Aquí, producing a magnetic box full of innovations and contaminations: they surprise themselves and make all this an achievement on our part.

Energy comes out of garages full of symbols and sacred dust, blessed by the God of pain, to give the dark sound a remarkable strength. Energy and melody become a necessity that explains events capable of producing shivers and bitter but wise observations. The bass sound is muffled, fraught with molecular fates capable of producing power and suggestions.  The guitar is an intense den of hard-working mosquitoes, with the propensity to be enveloping, looking to the sky and the world's piles of rubble. 

Compact songs, with marks of mental viruses out of control, with Deathrock stigmata that refuse to let themselves be imprisoned and know how to visit the range of possibilities they need. Intelligent, with an innate propensity to expand their feeling, they are Priestesses of the human mystery that elevates to the utmost power the sacred temple of the fragility of places, of seemingly joyless stories: real, concrete, we can only bless their aptitude for discovering the intercourses of fragility. Ethereal dreams for our ears to convert into precious files for our reasoning: each song on this album defines a loss from which to learn about reality.

With these gems, we experience a sonic menace which is made graceful by music that allows bows and prayers, like long days on the books of world history. On the curtain embalmed lights of the most seductive blackness contemplate ideas of aggregation with grey flashes, like crystals corrupted by a necessary and splendid carousel of complicity. A continuous outburst into pugnacious moors, with decisive steps, where nothing is shaky but where the dream sometimes leads to atmospheres layered and corrupted by the beauty of their ever-expanding feeling.

One is impressed by tracks that can reveal a dynamic propensity for non-violent but politely rude wickedness, just enough, in swinging games of austere and multifaceted seeds. They are attractive grains of wheat, lost in their own beauty, masters of versatility and candour. With the capacity for a sound derivative of Post-Punk and the Californian Deathrock zone, the band writes songs to give their vocals a chance to be flames of lethal gas, with the gothic redundancies of the 80s, evident but sweetened.

A visceral and magmatic sea, sonic paths that make beauty precise, a poem on the skin made steep by human events full of multiple incandescences. There is the life of stray souls, but not meaningless: the lungs, listening to these mental robberies, wriggle dreamily, with black confetti smiles, for a cathartic process with a light cap on the surface. One is compelled to pleasurable suffering, one senses and then understands that the two are enchanters of rituals that perform a beautifully crafted analytical process, one feeds on crumbs of shuttered happiness.

Mortality is applauded, despair and anxiety are companions of obligatory breaths and they know how to coexist, giving the impression that the night extinguishes the fear that is invited to emerge. They are steel songs, fragile sheets that have ghosts protecting them, to become rituals of perfect neurotic dances.

One lives in a necropolis that is more confused than ever, in a collapse of happiness that is no longer necessary: all this does not, however, make the album exclusive for black souls because it grants access to all those eager to investigate the irregular flows of difficulty, of the world in constant abandonment of the capacity to create serenity. Listening should be enforced by law: black coats to be worn, univocal, to wisely decree the reality of existences now close to the fall of hope.

We come out of the tombs not as zombies but as living beings who try to live again differently, noting the inevitable repetition of errors by which we are subjugated. Diavol Strâin is a real flame, a skein of spastic nerves necessary for the conscience that tries deception but fails with them.

They are witches with poisonous hands, quick, slow, succulent, conjugated to their hieroglyphic writing, emotional storms that sweep through to separate the fog from the fake rays that invade the streets. Chile here finds precise apostles in wanting their expressive autonomy, where elegance marries anger with crooked, decadent, sublime smiles.

They are black-clad gangsters, ancient, groping, but not devoid of consciences that stir the limbs of the mind, like violently suspended peristalsis: to listen to this beam of darkness is to become aware of the traffic of pain that spreads in the strings of their hearts.

They are vampires facing the moon, scorching souls who penetrate with an album that grates the wind and sweeps away confusions: methodical, precise, alienating, abundant in their sonic mantras, queens of the realm of dissatisfaction, they make their songs like loaves of bread without crumb. The taste is bitter, like certain dreams, opening the funereal skies of the night zone in search of peace, finding damnation instead.

There are darkwave dregs between the fingers of the two musicians: Ignacia and Lau do not seem afraid to surround their emotional burden with foams clinging to that musical genre that has managed to arrive even in that land generous in hospitality. And so here they are plunging towards boundaries that can enhance and better specify an undeniable ductility, that openness granted only to those who make knowledge a point of departure and not of arrival. 

Warriors of enigmas, in a world filled with news but not with information, these coupled turbulence know how to generate questions, offer doubts, with melancholic propensity, even to the point of making us cry bubbles of despair, understandably. A wild band that starts with Edgar Alan Poe, because of a writing that faces the terror of existence with kilometres of nightmares lined up, of a horror that becomes literary lymph, until it meets the religious belonging of one's own identity, annexing insecurities that convey a preparatory enthusiasm. One can surrender to difficulties, but with this band one learns to love them, rejecting whining in order to shake ourselves and begin the journey into darkness.

They seem to throw acid, heavy stones and then retreat into their intimacy, without delay. Magical, almost naive, very powerful tracks that live on the outskirts of our dreams with the tide, when the water seems to leave our lungs. They can be trusted. Because they are necessary, companions of solitudes that improve our breaths. They put eye-liner on our energy-deprived flows to encourage us, like an apparent deception. Digging into these forty-seven minutes, however, we have the certainty of their authenticity. Which becomes the altar where we lay down our mediocrity and hand them a papyrus of ancient velleities, burning them before their eyes with devotion.

Often the guitars are shrieks that move with bass lines (daughters of the spirits of Araucania), to dance full of impeccable solicitations towards the place of perdition. Like a hill of sins in search of forgiveness, the songs are often splinters that flee from hope, as rivals of nonsense, to breathe in all reality as proof of abilities that are applauded by the sacred fire of the sun.

The distorted arpeggios create metaphors, lamps of oblique wind, the bass instead serious and obscure melodies, pulsing with sick oxygen: necessary incandescences to understand what we are in the days of deception.

Music like quality whiskey, to stun, inebriate, corrupt every temptation. Music that clears the past of all misunderstandings: there is also something new that lives in the breaths of timeless songs, valid for eternity. It is hypnotic fluid that knows how to fill the flasks of our gothic need, like an effervescent cascade of healthy desire.

I guess it’s time, in order to better understand this album full of seaweed and sharp flights of consciousness, for a complete incursion through its tracks, arming ourselves with an open mind and a black lipstick in our hands…

Song by Song 

Caida Libre

Tenebrous, fast, an attack on our heart with its limpid connection between Darkwave and Post-punk kissing in the rush of a flash.

Destiny Destrucción

With a stylistic approach reminiscent of many bands from the Oakland scene, the track lives on the explosive connection between the distorted bass and the guitar full of gothic fog.

Lilith

It shows all the duo's ability to make their music magnetic: the rhythm decreases and the suggestions increase, a slow ascent to the sky with a melancholic flight.

El Reflejo de Mi Muerte

The syncopated drum machine, the bass pressing on our belly and then off: the guitars bring all the sadness and vitality of awareness, with the voice magnificently capable of being hysterical and malignant.

Herz Der Niemand 

Deathrock shows itself with light footprints, on vocals that explode with magnets stuck in the fog. An almost hidden electronic inlay presents itself in this track, which ultimately turns out to be the most elaborate and mysterious song on the album.

Ruinas

Hell is dressed for a moment of sweetness, almost shoegaze, with the guitar cradling the dream of being a black caress for a few minutes.

Nacidas del Fuego

Pins of moss-filled caves, the gothic belly pulses bloody liquids for a track that creates a tense, soft, hypnotic atmosphere.

Cotard 

Surprising and astounding, all the duo's imaginative talent sows its seeds in a breath that touches the corals of poetry.

El Ansia

Between Xmal Deutschland and Esses, Diavol Strâin launches into an anxious dance, grating all the Darkwave scenery that looks towards Deathrock with religious devotion. The bass and guitar seem at times to take turns to seduce the satanically laughing ghost.

Ylak 

Queen of clouds filled with pathos, the song declares all the creative possibilities of the Chilean band. A gentle howl, the guitar scratching respectfully and the vocals seducing like honey does with a bear's nails.

Inferno

After a beginning that leaves seeds of The Banshees, here is the jerk and the rush in the Los Angeles that welcomes anyone with the need for deathrock urges in their veins. 

Uroboros

Everything comes to a close in the best way: still something new, amazing, with echoes of Hannett's work with Joy Division. Something shatters while keyboards take the stage for a magnetic track, full of continuous loops. A stratified song, with cleverly connected zones that convey pleasant connections to Anja Huwe's band and the dark Germany of the 80s. Vocals disappear and an enveloping and sensual atmosphere sings.

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

10th July 2022

https://open.spotify.com/album/2izATdFOO5hG5deyCyUt4a?si=ossBb4YlSSuxHIKl9fDyug