Cinema Strange
Cinema Strange

THE REVIEW

Soundtrack for a low-grade grand guignol spectacle in a dark, semi-abandoned metropolitan suburb.

Ragged, slightly off-key, and frail music like the singer's voice that sounds, dignifiedly effeminate, as if coming out from behind the scenes of the rocky horror picture etc. The first sounds start, you can hear the crackle of a needle on vinyl and it immediately jams: “ci-ne-ma… ci-ne-ma… ”, then the first (macabre, needless to say) dance begins, which flows away catchy (?) and easy (yes, easy indeed) despite the irritating voice of the young boy from Los Angeles. Then a second track where, at the beginning, the debt towards much new-nu wave is more evident, until an organ starts off, steering the listening towards a more Bauhausian theatricality.

Well, not exactly Bauhausian... the references are rather Rozz(i), Andy Sexgang, and the likes. Indeed, the moment the arrangement becomes slightly more pretentious, you can immediately sense the scent of amused amateurism, and the improbable drum breaks are there to testify it, as lapidary and eloquent as epitaphs. But oh well, those were the premises: pure and healthy ironic-batcave entertainment, much more enjoyable in a small venue used to certain “dark carnivals” than within domestic walls. Otherwise, there's a risk that the dog starts howling, and the refined-eared neighbor begins mentioning all the gods of Olympus in strict alphabetical order.

Absolutely to be listened to only after a rigorous makeup session and patient exercises of empathy. Ci-ne-ma, ci-ne-ma, ci-ne-ma.