Garage 29
Auto da Fé

It was the 90s, a time when that wonderful generation was forming which led to one of the most beautiful and lush blooms in the history of Italian rock. They were Garage 29, from Milan and Varese, with their very personal formula, still reminiscent of the 80s wave for its existentialism, poetry, and presence of synths, but definitely tainted and scratched by grunge and harsh guitars.
With their contemporaries and label mates, several comparisons were possible: noisy but less than Ritmo Tribale, electronic but less than Subsonica, dark but less than CSI, dissonant but less than Afterhours, unique in their ability to "participatively" represent distress and neurosis. The band to which they were most easily compared, synths aside, was Marlene Kuntz, although they didn't share the latter's constant disdain of jaded schoolmasters, instead displaying a more painful sensitivity, earning them the nickname "MK with a human face."
But at that time it wasn't yet known; it was the early 90s, and perhaps this fervor did not favor them as expected: the modest labels of the suffocating national scene couldn't find slots for them, perhaps due to absurd and sometimes unjust twists of fate. Despite being too significant, too important: when they went on, social centers filled up, cooperative workplaces stirred, fights or emotional outbursts erupted in more or less underground venues. Often interviewed by radio and TV, they couldn't be ignored. Brian K was a cavernous baritone like Nick Cave or screamed like Peter Murphy, Ermanno Monterisi was a solid and dissonant guitarist, Carlo Ascoli a flamboyant keyboardist, Flaudio Fusato a fast and precise bassist, Ciccio Nicolamaria a truly imaginative drummer.
In the end, paradoxically, Linearecord, a subsidiary of Eri Edizioni Rai, took them on, definitely not an underground entity. Finally, in 1995, this mini was recorded which, in its small way (as we can well say), made history. The Auto da Fé was the religious-inquisitorial trial condemning the heretic, but here it is a title (later vampirized by many artists, among them Frankie HI-NRG and Battiato) of a mini with 4 tracks, 4 little underground pearls for a scene that never ceased to amaze.
It begins with their then most famous single, "Castello di Carte," a painful and authorial piece in Italian introduced by instrumental parts laced with suggestive guitar riffs. An irresistible refrain, an unexpected central variant, and behold a little jewel talking about frustration and being locked in a symbolic prison, which can be mental or even just cultural. A hymn against bourgeois conformism, in other words, which inflamed many small local radios and was indispensable in their live activities.
The subsequent "Axiomatic & Heuristic," despite the name borrowed - incredibly so - from Clock DVA (their references are always very refined, just think of the album dedication taken from the I Ching) is an absolutely original piece, based on an irresistible percussion and unusually cheerful, almost chirpy, in reality ironic up to the most scornful sarcasm. An invective against the scientistic paradigm on life.
An hallucinatory post-punk ride is "Beetleseller Dream," in English like the previous one but with a disconcerting psychic effect. Who is the beetle seller? The immigrant, the deviant, the misfit? And why does he hate passersby, along with the society that surrounds him? Lost in his wishful dream, his heightened anguish flies in a breakneck guitar race. Did they perceive in this distress the origin of ISIS?
Atmospheric keyboards introduce the last "The Awkward Age," which despite the title (here too a surprising citation: Henry James) is in Italian. A closing song, composed almost in the recording studio, an anthem to human cerebral flourishing despite the humiliating fetishes imposed by social consensus. Its noisy and melancholic tail echoes for a long time in the listener's ears after it ends.
Released when Afterhours were already on their third album, but shortly after the debut of CSI and Marlene Kuntz, Auto da Fé still filled an intolerable absence. Perhaps still slightly unripe compared to the style with which they decided to continue their experience, it was nevertheless a tough and original album, well-played and that perfectly positioned them in a unique niche for energy and authorial intensity. The album that seemed destined to open doors to a bright future for them. Yet inexplicably, it did not.