Alec Empire
Futurist

THE REVIEW

I hate this man.
I know it probably doesn't matter to anyone, but my hatred is visceral.
I saw him live at Transilvania in Milan, he looked like a Big Jim that had his back button pressed too many times. Audience: forty people; and he was full of energy doing the same kick, the exact same kick in the air shouting "c'mon, reactionaries dieeeee!", with a stick-up-the-ass attitude.

In interviews, he explains that he's actually an innovator: he's created rhythms that would send entire tribes of baboons into a frenzy, that he's collaborated with Tom, Dick, and Harry, that he hates fascists, that he slept on a military cot during the recording of the album. And there's his "bad guy" faces, all-black T-shirts and pants, poses like Iggy Pop after a dose of Lexotan.
You open the CD and read in the booklet, in his own words, that he makes music that condemns armies to disappear and cover themselves with shame. You pop the CD in the player and a voice, sounding like someone locked in the bathroom, threatens: "I'm talking about the death of rock and roll!"
Crikey, the unfortunate one thinks, this is strong stuff... and again here come avalanches of industrial-metal-punk poses and whatnot, where our hero just howls like a colicky seagull.
The riffs are pretty much all the same, some seem stolen from the Stooges (what a surprise!); the only element that could save this musical Bismarck is Endo's electronics, desperately trying to weave refined textures.
But no! He's too caught up in the fact that the world needs changing! Even if you sell two records and have to cancel dates because no one comes to see you, like in Italy.

One word above all: avoid him! The real nuggets of rage and authentic electronic and modern punk are hidden elsewhere.
Atari Teenage Riot have had their day, and our Empire alone does a bit too little to excite.