Brutal Truth
Extreme Conditions Demand Extreme Responses

THE REVIEW

Beyond the fact that the truly brutal debut of the New York City grindsters Brutale Verità was, is, and will forever be, until death do us part, a virulently concentrated blend of romantic nihilism d'antan that musically still kicks asses today with Mawashi-geri strikes, I believe I can say that there is a fundamental error in the categorical assumption promoted in the title.

"Extreme Conditions Demand Extreme Responses"

Let's reason: if extreme conditions demand extreme responses, everything becomes more extreme, by extremizing it.
With the result that in the next go-round you might face not just challenging extreme conditions but rather extremist conditions.

The extremist conditions, like in a Snakes and Ladders game typical of Monopoly (the one-star hotel on Vicolo Corto remains my favorite), would in turn require ultra-extremist responses.

And what if by chance these ultra-extremist responses aren't enough anymore?

[I would advise the desperate, the optimists, the pro-government, and the extremely angry to skip the next line]

Twenty-six years ago in New York, you couldn't know but today many eminent sc(iem)entists who govern us give us easy answers to complex problems. And without even passing Go!

The risk in the case of extreme extremist extremization is that of not understanding a thing anymore. A bit like what happens inside this album: splintered bones and guts scattered all over the floor.

And so?
I realize these are extreme issues that require extreme responses.

So let's ask Brutale Verità for enlightenment: if they made an album on it, they must have studied it for years and years.
No?

No.

Released in September 1992 "Extreme Conditions Demand Extreme Responses" warns us that "extreme conditions demand extreme responses".

But I'm not that much in agreement. I don't know if I've already told you.

Because the risk is ending up playing Monopoly with fake notes instead of real ones. It's also true that there, if you're lucky, you can easily buy four houses on Viale Dei Giardini and live grandly; but outside of that, you certainly can't live off it.

Unless you manage to sub-rent at least one on the sly (aumma-aumma) to the less fortunate from Bastioni Gran Sasso: but if they catch you, you'll end up in jail. And without passing Go.

In short, the album may well be the best example of mainstream grind of Austro-sideral level, but, it pains me to say it, the title is wrong.
There.

And now let me go back to playing Monopoly.