Diamanda Galás
Vena Cava

The Serpenta needs no introduction, I believe, but for those unfamiliar with her, here are a few notes: a Greek transplanted to America, Galás (born 1955) is an eclectic and challenging artist, spanning across blues, gospel, opera, jazz, rock (in 1994 she released an album in collaboration with Led Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones), musical experimentalism, and the most sick and annihilating vocal avant-garde. It is this latter and "dark" branch that has most defined Galás, who uses her voice as a true instrument, uncovering the most hidden, unimaginable sounds, achieving a vast spectrum of vocal expressions (and disconcerting, I might add). In her works, she has always combined artistic activity with social engagement, addressing themes such as madness, death, illness (her brother died of AIDS), and war. It’s symptomatic that her career began with performances in insane asylums...

This album, dated 1993, is a deconstruction of language, featuring sudden changes in register and style almost akin to an individual with multiple personalities, it is a grand monologue of a madwoman animatedly talking to the wall in front of her; 8 untitled compositions, 8 steps toward the abyss of insanity.

The manifesto of all this is track 1. "I wake up - and I see - the face - of the Devil. And I ask you: what time is it? What time is it? Whaaat tiiiime iiiis iiiiiiit..." Let the spectacle of madness begin! Inconceivable associations of ideas, vocal and linguistic degradation ("How do you feel today?" - "I think I'm feeling better...better...bea...bea...bea..."), sounds that make your skin crawl at the thought they come out of a human mouth. Inhuman screams alternate with parts of spoken/recited speech, operatic vocalizations, and warbling of various natures. Phrases are repeated with increasing speed until they degrade their phonetic form and spill into an absurd "new language." Track 1, with its just under 13 minutes, presents the main range, the primary "catalog" of what you find in "Vena Cava." The subsequent tracks follow this pattern, with varying lengths - ranging from 1 minute and a half to 14 - bringing new techniques and expressions.

Track 2, for instance, opens with a splendid operatic performance, showcasing Galás's great vocal capacity. And if the beginning of the track is one of the "highest," the end takes us into infernal abysses, giving us a series of truly remarkable growls. This dichotomous juxtaposition alone highlights the vocal eclecticism of this artist.

In track 3, we can find a gospel-style trait, "tainted" by an operatic touch, culminating in a "drunken song" (hear it to believe it) starring beer and leading to astonishing vocalizations. Always keep in mind that everything is constantly alternated with spoken/recited parts, with Galás's distinctive style.

Spectacular speed of declamation in the middle of track 4, where we witness a Diamanda beginning to shoot binary code and then give numbers (literally), increasingly faster until it creates a timeless dimension in our mind.

"678 678 678 678 BINGO! 678 678 678 AND BINGO AND BINGO AND BINGO!" Other numbers and declarations bordering on madness in track 5, multiplication and echo of the voice in track 6 (making you think delightedly "She is truly crazy!"), tracks 7 and 8 almost entirely recited, and the album's finale with a sound manipulation of "Silent Night" (the only piece of instrumental testimony easily perceptible since throughout the album, the undisputed master is Galás's diabolic voice, always in the foreground, while the slightly instrumental and effect-laden background is practically imperceptible and can only be unearthed with careful headphone listening).

The album is one of the most insane and disturbing in the discography of the Serpenta, in my opinion second only to "Schrei X" (1996), perhaps the craziest (although it is necessary to mention the first "The Litanies Of Satan" from 1982 - with its deadly "Wild Women With Steak Knives" - and the eponymous 1984 record). This work eludes a numerical evaluation from me, listening to it (strictly with headphones, at night) is always a strange, alienating experience; I refrain from providing a rating. Perhaps its value lies precisely in its ability to extricate itself from rational framing to make our eyes widen every time, soundly slapping us with its crazy vocal evolutions.