Black Marble
A Different Arrangement

I am really surprised that none of the distinguished people here have reviewed this album.

Calling it cold wave, when the ephemeral fire of dead feelings burns beneath the ashes, is somewhat contradictory. The torment, in my opinion, can have two possible connotations: it can be a bittersweet condition, in which to indulge as well as pure claustrophobia, an analysis of closure, which is already given as a fact.

So, in what I consider the best album of 2012, the guiding thread is the death of paranoia, or the forced therapy on a human body that has experienced feelings but only gives noticeable signs of its presence among us through the sounds and lines drawn by machines.

In short, don't miss this album that will know how to leave you, at first listen, with one foot in each shoe. Black leather, ugly like those of undertakers.

It will make you rethink everything around you as a visual and auditory landscape full of nullity. It will make you feel like aliens in a world better left undiscovered. There are no pills containing muscles or Saturday nights to hide behind when listening to Black Marble. And finally, the marble's whiteness has been permanently erased.

Dare it be black, damn it, if it must always be so cold.