Fuck Buttons
Tarot Sport

It's trendy to say that Trans are in fashion. Everyone thinks they are disgusting, yet everyone goes to them: lawyers and builders, married and divorced, rich and poor, country cousins and formula3... Trans represent a new frontier, something we didn't feel the need for; yet they work, they earn, they are liked: they have nothing new, they don't represent a novelty, it's just a well-executed mix of elements we already knew - and quite well.

The new album by Fuck Buttons is like a luxury trans: it was the missing transgression, but one that was already there, something dirty yet classy, natural and unnatural; the cool alternative to something that was already good, an alternative that is very appealing, and we can't even blame them, because the blame lies with society as a whole, not with the trans.

And so, in a musical environment capable of elevating the aleatory compositions of the Animal Collective, the Fuck Buttons become the ultimate, transgression at your fingertips, the quickie of the ear; all thanks to a dirty sound, evocative, tribal and modern at the same time, which supports long and useless compositions, each one like the other where three odd notes of distorted organ try to create something that isn't there, that wasn't needed, that makes you enjoy those moments of calm before another essentially identical track starts again, as if facing a novelty, a mystical journey, in reality, we haven't moved from the couch, neither physically nor spiritually; you just have to lift your feet while your wife vacuums and wait for another rendezvous with Luana, with her perfect but fake, silicone sound that is ultimately misleading, with an attractive package but with non-existent content.

In short: do you want to hear a great sound, a bit of novelty? Yes, shoot yourself the harsh noise of this album, the distortions, the effects, the crazed arpeggiators, the polymorphic rhythms and its minimal atmospheres, but one, maybe two times: indulge yourself and then return to your wife, return to the fine dishes, to music made with heart (whether it's made with guitars, synths, computers, or microwaves), to the chamber of sincere creativity.