Deca
Claustrophobia

Very few musicians in Italy have managed to maintain an exceptionally high quality level over a long period and continuously evolve without compromising on easy shortcuts. One of them is Deca (alias of Federico De Caroli), pianist and keyboardist, composer, producer of Ligurian origins who this year marks his fortieth year of recording activity. A prominent figure in the electronic and experimental scene, yet a low-profile public character, he has built an eclectic and prolific career both at home and abroad. Maintaining strong independence despite high-profile collaborations (RAI, APM, EMI). A great expert in sound production, he debuted in the mid-80s with a couple of rather derivative albums (strong references to Jarre, Vangelis, Tangerine Dream). Youthful albums that didn't say much about his compositional talent but nonetheless gained some visibility. And by the way, today original copies of those LPs have a collectible value in the hundreds of euros.

It was only at the end of that decade that Deca undertook a significant shift in his artistic journey. A shift that was decisive not only for the initial phase but represented a seminal chapter for his entire upcoming discography. Leaving behind the grandiose and spatial keyboards, the expansive scores, and the electro-rock hints of Alan Parsons, Deca opened the curtain on a stage of shadows and hallucinations. Starting to autonomously elaborate sounds and seek his own identity.

Claustrophobia was released in the spring of 1989. It is said to have been at the end of a turbulent personal period that inspired the eight tracks composing the album's tracklist. Released by an independent label specifically created (Labyrinth Records), but officially distributed by Videostar, it marked a clear stylistic change from his previous two works. Here, the sound is sharp, essential, hammering, more directed towards an industrial and dark wave matrix than to cosmic music. The rhythms are obsessive. A rough minimalism prevails. And the three sung tracks - unique cases in his extensive discography, which is mostly instrumental - make use of a cold and alienating voice. Especially since the lyrics are written in a coded language: Tecnoi, an artificial language invented by the author himself.

A song is entrusted with the opening of the 33 RPM (note that this LP has never been reissued in other formats). Inframorte is probably the most significant and immediate track of the work. With some echoes vaguely reminiscent of The Cure's Pornography, it is structured on a fabric of electronic harpsichords and an implacable rhythmic mechanism, countered by the sharp and anguished voice. But the continuation of side A does not disappoint, as with the percussive mantra of Carnal Flowers, it nails another track of seductive immediacy. A mantra that we later find at different speeds in the song closing the first side and in the dark closing tracks Claustrophobia and Metamorphosis.

Isolated in its majestic solemnity of organs and carillons is Cathedral Of Nightmares, which opens side B. An almost transcendental parenthesis that for a few minutes breaks the hypnotic vortex.

Claustrophobia is the sound vision of the artist's torment who experiences, in a claustrophobic manner - precisely - the fundamental aspects of human existence. Aspects often impossible to face rationally: death, sexuality, phobias, the relationship with worship and faith, inevitable changes.

As elliptical as they may be, the very titles of the tracks suggest a fairly clear interpretation in this sense. Inframorte, Carnal Flowers, Private Panic, Cathedral Of Nightmares, Liquid Animals are the lexical synthesis of that torment and perhaps also the oneiric escape from the malaise of living, in search of answers that do not lie in the rational realm. Because the dream experience is one of the cornerstones of De Caroli's aesthetics and philosophy, highlighted not only in his musical works but also in his stories and novels. In that same period, moreover, the Manifesto of Distonirism, of which the composer was one of the promoters, came to life.

The album following Claustrophobia (Premonizione Humana from 1992) carries on the liner notes a specific reflection precisely on the dream as the only way of escape.

Speaking of covers: that of Claustrophobia is pervaded by metamorphic silhouettes and blurred reddish and burnished glows that complete this feeling of dark fascination. A perfect cohesion with the musical content of the vinyl. Inside, an illustrated insert with a sort of poem with equally sinister tones, written in Italian and English (not in Tecnoi).

Moments of total terror

and our black claws

on the edge of the slit

red and luminous

eyes gone mad

claustrophobia

numb and cold limbs

blinded by screaming panic

with hard emotions

never again deluded to escape

(alive or dead)

from the ghastly nightmare

that continues.

A crucial work in De Caroli's artistic journey, it is considered by many one of his best albums and also one of the best titles in the Italian dark industrial scene. Undoubtedly a substantial work for understanding the direction in which its author has looked for over thirty years, a true starting point of a significant production; and in some ways still very undervalued.