Alkbottle
No Sleep Till Meidling

THE REVIEW

Writing a review on My Dying Bride is definitely more inspired by a dreary autumn day, while a day when we're feeling cheerful and bubbling with joy is ideal for reviewing a Ramones album. Tonight I talk to you about the first album by Alkbottle and, I must admit, I’m quite ‘inebriated’. Out of a sense of Reviewer duty, of course.

The quintet from Vienna isn't very well-known outside of Austria, and perhaps they don't even care much, given their simplistic approach to building the tracks, which makes them even more beautiful and immediate.

Oh, one thing: I apologize for any spelling mistakes, but I don't know why Word keeps shrinking the fonts as I continue writing, weird...

The CD, picked up at a flea market in Klagenfurt, has artwork that to me is both abominable and mythical, with a cover where a bottle holding a guitar stands in front of a photo of liquor cases taken inside the imaginary "Trattoria da Markus"; on the back, a "quintessential" hostess complete with a 2-liter wine bottle: a masterpiece image of trash in black and white, repeated inside on the back cover to reinforce the fundamental concept. Among other things, something I don’t understand is all this interest in wine in a nation where there seems to be another drink that reigns supreme, blonde and bubbly, and the name escapes me now... no, it’s not tonic water.

The lyrics (from which I’ll let you imagine the intricate themes discussed) are in their native language and printed in the booklet, interspersed among various shots of our 5 dimwits in front of a closed bar or with an old man asleep leaning precariously on a cart against the backdrop of the city’s road map. When the art of image takes over...

The album... while I feel like I have a swarm of eels in my stomach, it must be the sandwich I ate the day before yesterday, or... maybe I caught a chill. I should also go to the bathroom, but I must have gained weight last night and now it's a hassle to dodge the doorposts... as I was saying, the album is delightful: pure rock, banal if you like, not too serious, but fun and well played.

The first track "Gschichtldrucker" (or something like that, I doubt you’ll check it) is just a spoken introduction leading us to the grandiose title track, where the markedly Austro-German singing certainly doesn't go unnoticed, especially in the numerous passages with just drums and vocals. More canonical rock in "J Find Ka Oide" and the fast-paced "Motorradlfohrn", in my opinion, the best track on the album. It continues without pretense but also without filler, given the album's few (8) tracks, with "Niemehrwieder Fohr J Furt" being much softer and followed by the more metal-flavored "Der Musikantenstadl Brehnt" (all very simple titles for us Italians, particularly for me tonight with my glasses inexplicably fogging up). Finally, "Alkbottle (Jo Des San Mir)" is a fun R'n'R made of choruses and guitar effects, a song that some genius borrowed in '95 to name a beer!

The album concludes with "Bonus Dreck", an improbable nursery rhyme to sing after several bottles, probably comparable to the Venetian "Osteria numero sette / i ghe tira e bale al prete", consisting more of agonizing screams than of humanly acceptable singing. Wonderful. Especially if your blood alcohol level merits the loss of your license, ID card, and video bank card.

Now I must bid you farewell, also because when I stand up, the ceiling seems to start wobbling (not sure what they’re feeding sparrows to get so heavy), recommending you to listen to this "No Sleep Till Meidling" released in 1993, where the title seems more like a recommendation from a parent aware of how the liquid percentage of the child's body increases beyond the laws of nature when they step out of the house.

Certainly a record not suitable for those seeking technical prog, definitely an album to discourage lovers of deep or serious lyrics, even more certainly a CD that should not lead on the car dashboard while the highway patrol stops us for the breath test and we stall stammering out excuses like "Ethylo what? No, officer, never heard of it because, you know, yes, I’m white but I'm from Burkina Faso".

And now to beautifully end the evening, I'll "finish" this bottle of Refosco... wait until I find the corkscrew...