Cristina Donà
Tregua

THE REVIEW

Cristina looks at these hands, touches the objects I left in the dust. I have a distant desire, which runs away in my mind through The Usual Things. The gift never received, the words I never found on others' lips. Your astonished Little Face can erase a list of defeats. That bleed. I Always Have Myself, the invisible reflection in the mirror closed inside the trunk of memories. It's The Aridity of the Air that creeps between the folds of the soul, like cancer. It tears Silk and Blonde Hair, slowly the executioner cuts my throat. And nothing surprises me anymore. There exists a future waiting for us, just choose Without Disturbing. Pray here and lower your head, pray to step out of the light and smile enormously. In the chest, there is a beehive, smelling of bees and honey, a Maze of confusion and ice. Climbing back up 38 minutes of catharsis and dramatic images, in the debut dated 1997 by Cristina Donà, her thin voice soars high among Good Stars (Jeff Buckley, PJ Harvey, Patti Smith, the title track dedicated to Cobain) and livid guitars, minimal atmospheres, and the narcotic production of Manuel Agnelli. Sonic watercolors of apathetic twilight, sentimental landscapes of a talented singer-songwriter who is not afraid to show herself to the world. Even uncertain. Contradictory.

A stupid drop falls along the veins of the leaf. It falls a moment before the Truce, outside the glass the cold speaks Every Evening to the hearts of abandoned strangers. From the video to the altar and from the altar to the video, we open these empty boxes. The guns fill the walls, and nothing remains inside because inside is... Outside.