Exceptional reality crashes into a futuristic/industrial/experimental design that leaves no escape. After the end of the hippy culture in the mid-seventies, American moods are lifted with Residents, Tuxedomoon, and Chrome. The latter is dedicated to a direct, spatial design that revisits psychedelia and more. The two minds, Edge and Creed, are creators of a parody of the musical conception expressed until that period, and in 1976 they mark their beginning.

The band's stylistic elements are formed in "Alien Soundtracks," and a futuristic journey without precedent begins. Saturated riffs to the maximum and a raucous voice. A setup that mocks the likes of Vega's Suicide, the MC5, and the Stooges in the blink of an eye. A frontal assault is chosen and a reduction of the mannerism of other American avant-garde expressions, Residents being the first. In 1979, they release "Half Machine Lip Moves," destined to remain a masterpiece and symbol of this excellent era. Chrome's industrial sound is not explained with the noise of the British Throbbing but with a mad union between punk, Zappa, and kraut.

These connotations are present especially in the first work, but starting from "TV As Eyes," you already plunge into a purely cyber nightmare. There is no room for melody, harmony, bridges, or solos. There is only a compact sonic magma that simultaneously emits chameleonic nuances. The trauma is at the door, and you can't escape it. The further you go through the album, the more interest and curiosity increase. There is no dull stasis. Each track has a different mood, but the purpose is always the same: neurosis among the stars. Yes, because their advance is thunderous, theatrical, and imaginative. It was a period where avant-garde combined with visual arts, and the stunning posters of the live shows were imbued with shocking dada designs. A prolific period at its peak for music.

Hurricanes clash with our minds as in the relentless "Zombie Warfare" or in the tribal "March Of The Chrome Police." Thus, the satire of Zappa and the eternal floating of the guitar are resumed, a lesson learned from the sacred monsters of the Sixties. This cacophony is impregnated with remote-controlled armies, the modern nightmare, and infernal radio signals. It's exemplified in "Mondo Anthem" or the bone-crushing title track.

After this, with an increasingly varied and excited panorama, they later failed to reach these towering heights again, but the importance of such works cannot fall into general oblivion.

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