Brainticket
Cottonwoodhill

Disturbing ...

Unsettling ...

Extraordinary ...

Tremendous ...

Original ...

Noisy ...

Exhausting ...

Irrational …

Oppressive ...

Nihilistic ...

Extreme …

The “Biglietto per il Cervello” was born in '68 as a psychedelic rock band. Their creative leader was the flamboyant Belgian musician Joel Vandroogenbroeck (whoever can pronounce it correctly in one breath is talented), who juggled flute, organ, keyboards, sitar, and other instruments while also arranging the songs. The first LP, published three years after the creation of the multicultural and multinational project (the various members of the band came from multiple countries), named “Cottonwoodhill,” is one of the most striking and interesting “statements of intent” in the context of rock music. This first work is an uprising from below against the big names of experimental and psychedelic music. Brainticket infuses this LP (barely thirty-five minutes long) with countless new ideas beyond the imagination of the time. Progressivism and nihilism blend into an excellent and disconcerting mix; nothing is banal, it never falls into repetition or the already heard. “Cottonwoodhill” converges infinite magical and captivating moments, something made remarkable by the presence of the experimental suite in three parts titled “Brainticket,” reinforcing the message, asserting a thoughtful and intentional musical journey. “Cottonwoodhill” is a cerebral masterpiece that culminates in paroxysm, under a positive light.

The first two tracks are interesting and short experiments, negligible compared to the magnificent composition that skirts thirty minutes already mentioned. The beauty of the entire album lies in its difficult digestibility, even though it barely lasts thirty-five minutes. Astonishing how the first two songs slip away quickly and painlessly like a cut ribbon, unlike the slow and experienced sound agony of “Brainticket.”

On a constant base of keyboards, Hellmuth Kolbe, producer and sound engineer, adds the most disparate sound effects, noises from everyday life, like breaking glass, gargling, crazy monkeys, vacuum cleaners, incessant and annoying alarm clocks, etc. ... After two minutes from the start of the composition, vocalist Dawn Muir begins, spitting out whispered words that unsettle the listener, leading them into another dimension. Simulated orgasms, spasmodic invocations, repressed desires emerge through her voice, more and more insistent, more and more yearning, Muir loses control and lingers in possessed-like verses, and every breath, every moan becomes more felt, more urgent, as if pleading and desperately seeking help from someone. After ten minutes of noise, the listener feels the need to step away, to stop listening, to catch their breath, but “Brainticket” does not allow that. The twenty-six minutes must pass without interruptions; otherwise, it is not possible to fully experience such a saturated suggestive experience. Once the suite concludes, the listener can breathe, and although initially he feels disoriented, immediately, now possessed, conquered, he would want to undergo the test again. The merit of this track lies in its inability to be pigeonholed, sampled, or approached rationally. It cannot be fully understood, it is impossible, no matter how hard one tries. Brilliant!

The album cover notes say: “Listen only once a day. Your brain might get damaged. Hallelujah Records assumes no responsibility.” Well, follow this advice. I have not yet dared to listen more than once in a twenty-four-hour span to this music, and I think I will continue along this line. Nevertheless, it remains one of the most ambiguous and terrifying albums of the last five decades.

NB (or PS) Do you remember the beginning of this review? The adjectives with which I described Brainticket? Well, each initial letter of the word forms another word, highly descriptive and conforming to the nature of this album.

Rating 10/10<