Dälek
Negro Necro Nekros

What am I doing here?

I snag this 5-track EP at the modest price of 8 euros, the debut of that poorly translated music (or noise) that is Dalek. An interesting little disc, especially considering the release date (1997), where experimentation is already an essential component of the group. In reality, we are still far from the monstrous sounds of Absence, and the noise is, in fact, present in small quantity: "Swollen tongue burns," with its violently intense drums and the schizophrenic "Images of 44 casings," which flows into the darkest ambient, are the two most powerful tracks. We then find the oriental "Three rocks blessed" and the dirty jazz of Wu-Tang lineage in "the untravelled road" (an explosive mix of what could be considered a kind of noise-jazz), and the concluding "Praise be the man" (a 12-minute suite that more than any other represents what will be the group's future sound, a devastating industrial-ambient). In short, an album perhaps still a bit immature, but nonetheless more than sufficient. Getting it for 8 euros is a steal.

I order it and while waiting, I call my girlfriend, who isn't really my girlfriend but just someone I sleep with; well no, in reality, we do everything a normal couple does (go out together, send sweet messages, make love like animals, and deny to the world that we are a couple). Anyway, I have the house to myself, I'm not sure what to do, so I call her. She comes running, and right away we're doing acrobatics and whatnot for a couple of hours until we're both exhausted on the floor. She, wanting cuddles, says to me: "come on, put on something tender, like, I don't know, John Legend!" But I don't have any John Legend, and since I'm so obsessed, I crank Absence by Dalek and wander around the house naked, rapping like a lunatic while the walls shake. She looks at me and says, "what the hell is this crap?" At which point I get angry and slide tackle her ankle. Something warranting a straight red card. Only, there's no referee, and I'm such an idiot, because, why the hell do I hit my girlfriend when I know perfectly well she's stronger than me? And indeed, she grabs me and gives me a direct German suplex, leaving me on the floor, writhing in pain.

The doorbell rings, and I barely have time to get to the door when some big guy kicks it in, entering my house with a jackhammer. The big guy turns it on and starts tearing up my floor. "Hell, it's The Oktopus," I think; and indeed, I was right. "Look, I need to record the sound of the jackhammer for the new song that will be on the next album," he tells me. Sure, go ahead.

Then a chubby guy comes in, whom I recognize as Dalek: he looks at me for a few seconds and then throws the album (the Negro Necro Nekros) at me and spits on me, starting to rap and filling me with insults, because he doesn't like middle-class folks. Sooooooo cruel. Now, I don't have a problem, but my mother does, and she comes home to find the front door kicked in, a guy jackhammering the floor, another one pacing around the house rapping angry as hell, and she grabs the rolling pin and starts swinging. So pissed that she even hits me and throws me out along with the other two.

We decide to go get a beer, and in the meantime, we bump into J-Ax, who's collaborating with Max Pezzali on a new track to be called "the friend rule is a damn joke, since I, by befriending women, have slept with them all, I mean, all of them." But Dalek hates the commercial stuff and immediately starts kicking the stoned jerk, while The Oktopus pulls out a hammer and starts smashing the windshield of Pezzali's car. Two minutes later, the police show up with the sergeant, who awards us a medal for valor. Barbara D'Urso dedicates 15 episodes of Pomeriggio 5 and 87 of... what the hell's the name of her Sunday program? Oh well, that one, you know what I mean....

All too good to be true, but I just want to be at home listening to this CD. What am I doing here?