Art-Lexus
Blendergod

We are at the dawn of the 21st century: the entire musical world is shaken by the most relentless blandness. In the recording industry, originality has disappeared, and inventiveness is reduced to a desolate heap of rubble... yet noise survived! Acting as the spokesperson of noise intransigence is Art-Lexus, in the world known as Armando Greco from Bondì, a district of Cisano Bergamasco, just a few hundred meters away from P-O-N-T-I-D-A, the headquarters of the decaying league mentality that has unfortunately clouded so many minds in the last two decades.

After three releases, our hero is not yet ready to give up and unravels a memorable series of rough gems with the persistence of a younger and less bloated Glenn Branca. A truly commendable tenacity and combativeness drive Lexus to venture into the darkest recesses of the psyche, without any concession to refined or even conciliatory sounds. What emerges from the grooves of this "Blendergod" is only squalor, desolation, greyness, and impotence in the face of an increasingly alienated and alienating post-industrial generation. Don't look for a wink at the gilded world of arthouse productions because Lexus is not a modern Trent Reznor armed in mesh shirts and shiny black leather pants for the consumption of infatuated teenagers... here there is only an honest and raw racket from a post-atomic medieval times. And so, armed with Teflon ears, we dive into listening to these nine tracks, which seem to almost push beyond the boundaries of the most aberrant cacophony: the dances open with a sequence of sparse piano notes, the minimal and distressing "Oshi," surrounded by noises and effects of all kinds that constitute the business card of this artist, always passionate about the most diverse experiments with objects. Instead, "Dissents" revolves around a regular and metronomic electronic beat, a child of that lucid madness that characterized certain early new wave. Still dominating is the backdrop of objects and knickknacks of all kinds, not just extemporaneous oddities but true cornerstones of the Lexusian sound architecture.

The sources of inspiration for this mad sonic alchemist seem to be manifold: in "Noise and catharsis" (more than a title, a programmatic manifesto), distant reminiscences of the most gloomy Robin Lee Crutchfield and his Dark Day seem to echo, while "Paths" and "Temptations" pay tribute to those moments when Sonic Youth abandon their monotonous raids to engage in moments of greater reflexivity. In "Whirring thoughts" and "Diploma" (the latter arduously conquered by Art-Lexus in an all-female institution), the blender appears, a well-known kitchen object that, however, turns into a deadly instrument of auditory torture in the hands of this provincial Arto Lindsay. Concluding the mad journey is "Shiva," a hell of atonality and harrowing hums, layers of debris from which emerges a faint and poignant guitar arpeggio. It is impressive to imagine how Art-Lexus's guitar is constantly tormented, vilified, violated in the most varied ways, with no regard for the elementary concepts of harmony: it seems that our hero even used his own rod just to give the world a sound as abrasive as possible. Result? The Dna will seem like a group of novice Sanremo performers after listening to "Blendergod," probably the work that will bring about a Copernican revolution in today's stale noise scene.

Entering Lexus's world will be initially uncomfortable and irritating, but if you approach with caution and a spirit of adventure to this jam (or rather a jar of jam) of sounds and metallic clangs, you won't be able to leave it. But be careful: going back will be difficult because Art-Lexus leaves no room for half measures: either you love him or you hate him, and we don't want to love him completely, surrendering to the worship of this noise deity. He is alive, and we are all dead!