Azalia Snail
Snailbait

If you are a black sheep, it may be that you stay in your room, with all those posters on the walls and all that underground music.

Then it might also be that you start messing around with the electric, driving mom and dad crazy and going a bit crazy yourself, you who would like to be a virtuoso, but, in the grip of frustration, you only mess around.

Until you discover that those messing around can also be quite interesting, crazy stuff, sure, but fresh, very fresh, which, after all, is precisely the gift that the underground has given to the world.

And then you understand that you, black sheep, can transform, if you want, into another little animal, something cuter and stranger, think of a little snail...

A colorful little snail.

After all, what every female freak has to do is leave behind the little match girl and, little by little, with the slow and sure pace of a snail, transform into a more appropriate female heroine. I don't know, a cross between Wednesday Addams and Patti Smith.

Well, those two are definitely credible puppets in your fairy theater.

Until the time comes to take the mushrooms and go into the woods, the woods that is your new little room.

"Isn't it nice to get lost in the woods?" the good Syd asked in Octopus, that little low-fi masterpiece that keeps stalling.

And you too, Azalia, you stall and you do it right.

At the end of the day, it's a bit like coming out of the shell, and you know a lot about shells, even though the snail's technique is not so much about coming out of it, but rather bringing it along...

...

The colorful snail carries its little sound house with it, from which come out little tunes devoted to "you must not" and "you do not".

So then the question naturally arises: do we write error and read fantasy or do we write fantasy and read error? I wouldn't know, in fact, I don't know. Let's say that a gift granted to childish spirits makes it so that, every now and then, these two entities hold hands.

Donkey ears and red and blue pencils are the medals of valor for those who do not read the instruction manual or who, reading it, don't understand a thing.

Here, for example, we are faced with a nice sonic tangle, like beautiful silver cacophonies that joyfully pass through an angelic grater. And not everyone has an angelic grater. After all, the snail is a clever little person and, even if slowly, goes its own way.

Perhaps it's a game, perhaps a ritual, perhaps both. As if Hildegard became Alice and Alice Hildegard. A cross between cosmic music and a funfair...

Add then a ragged sound child and sometimes not a child at all. Also add a whole lot of reverb...

And reverb is one of my twelve favorite words.

In short, a small encyclopedia of psych-something, a one-way trip with a free ticket. Because children don't pay...

And neither do the poets...