Cows
Orphan's Tragedy

Cover (or rather, what could be on the cover): a child of color. Naked. With a satisfied and relaxed face. He holds a meat skewer in his hand. In the background, a white child. Dressed in Western attire. Sad. Thoughtful. He doesn’t understand the moment of ecstasy of the first child. He’d probably be happy with a nice, expensive, yet useless toy. Naive... Stupid, little naive...

"Orphan's Tragedy" is the skewer. It’s the hunger that goes away, after a fast that lasted too long. Too long.

The Cows are a legendary band, the offspring of a wild and incredibly loud punk-rock, whose albums wouldn’t look out of place alongside those of Jesus Lizard and Fugazi. After the first excellent "eardrum-disintegrating" works, the 4 cows from Minneapolis recorded what is, in my opinion, the most mature and heterogeneous work of their admirable discography (Amphetamine Reptile, 1994).

There's not even time to light a cigarette before a psychotic voice breaks the silence. A "slid" guitar starts like a crazy bullet. Naturally, towards your helpless throat. It’s "Cow Island," a devastating start. The title track is the feast of frenzied bending supported by a caterpillar bass. Noise. Noise like molten gold. In all different forms. "Allergic To Myself" even has a melody, damn if it’s spot-on! It stays inside you, like a drill in the brain. The album flows furiously and you're there expecting it... you know, sooner or later the singer Shannon Selberg will spit a rotten lung on your face... it’s just a matter of minutes. "I'm Both" is a deviant swing to dance with your trusted drug-addicted whore (I hope you have one...). The bass of "My Bob" creates a staircase that leads to the thousandth floor of a dilapidated skyscraper and when the chorus explodes, there’s nothing left but to jump into the void, with a silly grin plastered on the butt. And the dive won’t hurt. It will be a liberation. Just like the last song: a sort of jazz nightmare, with a muted trumpet, that will smear the remaining crumbs of your mind.

A powerful and unruly album, disgustingly visceral, in which each of the 14 tracks could be the soundtrack of a world that will never exist.

Back cover: a deformed little girl clutches a frightened kitten in her hands.