Dopamine
Dying Away In The Deep Fall

Certain pieces of music, as we know, are immensely gratifying when they align with the right state of mind, especially when they influence it in return.

In this sense, a well-known anthropologist from the Val D'Ossola, graduated from Masticoni and now a collaborator with Monti at the Ministry of Lifetime Benefit Protection, has ventured the thesis that musical notes, for some people, are a bit like the weather: they can positively or negatively influence the course of the day. Now, if that were the case, if the intrinsic power of music had such a significant, pathological value, it would be worth wondering where we would be forced to place, within the span of twenty-four hours, Manowar, for example. Before an embrace? Maybe during? I can already imagine the irreparable crisis that would hit the Cialis industries and the boom of cosmetic oil companies! Not to mention Lady Gaga, whose very name semantics suggest when one might take advantage of her inviting notes... For those who can't help but bomb themselves with depression and suffering, there's always blackgaze, especially now that the scorching summer heat is just a pale memory, and we are preparing, alas, to line up in shops for some stupid and useless Christmas trinket.

While waiting for the new Alcest album and still hearing at least a dozen post-post-post-black albums, quite intense, released in recent months, in a further surge of unconscious disheartenment, I went back to some stuff I had set aside in decidedly more joyful times, and 'Dying Away in the Deep Fall' by Dopamine, released in 2010 just before the breakup, was just the thing for me. They have slanted eyes, come from China (yes, I know, it seems strange to me too), and have as their deus ex machina a certain Mr. Deng, a rather enlightened mind who may not be Neige but knows his stuff (the curious ones should go and browse the catalog of Pest Production, his personal label).

Well, after processing my sorrows with these five marriages between instrumental and minimalist essences so dear to post-rock (Explosions in the Sky, first and foremost) and sudden and smashing screaming-black explosions with high dopamine release (exactly) that would throw even Jenna Jameson into despair when faced with any of the Bantu tribe chiefs of the Congo, I realized that there are too many stereotypes about the Chinese.

Not always is "Made in China" synonymous with trinkets and deceptions. Not always is the world's most populous nation the great culprit of economic crises, the undermining of personal rights, pollution, inappropriate use of domestic animals as dishes, or the lowering of the world's average male member length. Sometimes, behind that perpetual borderline annoying giggle, behind ethnic musical instruments like the Pipa and the Suona, there can hide piercing nodes of pessimism and despair.

So... just a little... just as we like it...