Glenn Branca
Lesson No. 1

Let's start by saying that idolatry is among the worst evils of man and that "fans" are scum (just kidding...). That said, there are two people for whom I can't help but fall into moderate fanaticism: one is Dylan, the other is Glenn Branca. I like the latter so much that every time I want to listen to him, I almost have reservations, the sensation as if each listen could mean risking wasting something precious that should be drawn upon only in the most perfect moment, or like consuming, with every breath, a bit of oxygen from your spacesuit when you're in interstellar space... and yet you need to breathe. Strange paranoias, well...
But all this not without reason.

Branca is a genius, his work is probably the first example that would come to mind if I had to describe art, because it is so unique, so innovative, so striking, so violent and peaceful, so visceral and at the same time programmatic, so dissonant yet so harmonious, so balanced yet so radical, so inhuman, and ultimately so human.

Branca is a supreme master of neurosis and existential anguish, one of the leading exponents of noise and among the "founders" of no-wave (a cultural movement born in NY at the end of the '70s, which in music translates into the exaltation of atonality, and, in a certain sense, percussiveness; but aside from a certain approach, I would define it as a non-genre) together with other groups like Teenage Jesus and Jerks, DNA, Contortions. However, he greatly differs from the others, his music is indeed dissonant, yet I have rarely happened to listen to something so harmonious: his pieces are noise-rock, yet they appear "inexplicably" ordered, crystalline, with a "symphonic" sound. This is because, despite being a quirky punk, he always maintains great order both metrically and harmonically in addition to relying on a rhythmic section that dominates, and not least, he uses a (never seen before) true orchestra of electric guitars.

Branca has elevated noise-rock to a cultured, classical genre, and he has rationalized neurosis by representing it as perfectly ordered emotion, making it perhaps even more terrifying and unsettling.

Lesson No. 1 (1980) is his first album (EP) (followed by his unanimously regarded masterpiece, "The Ascension"). I am particularly keen to talk about it also because, although not the chief, it contains one of the most spectacular rock music tracks as well as one of my absolute favorites, for originality and pathos, "Dissonance."
The style and sound, not yet mature, personal, and inspired as in Ascension (almost), are already well outlined here.
Essentially, we're talking about noise-rock, industrial, ambient mixed with a way of making music that is close to classical (and this alone shows that we are dealing with a madman), even though it seems to me reductive and coarse to speak of genres for this anarchic guy (musically and otherwise). If I were to limit myself to talking about genres, the music you would encounter would still be completely unexpected because indeed, he doesn't care about genres.

The first side is "Lesson No. 1 for Electric Guitar" (8') with immediately in its essence, perhaps with a bit of uncertainty, his very personal style. The track is perpetual suspense made of guitars with a crystalline, metallic, and slightly shrill sound - like a ghost of electricity howling between the bones of the face (kindly borrowing) - yet relaxed and "open," chasing each other circularly tending to form a wall of sound.

The second side is the pyrotechnic "Dissonance" (11'), a practically orchestral piece that I can't help but unravel for you (spoilers):
...violent strumming; depressurization puffs; fade-in of a heartbeat-like pulsing bass that sets the rhythm (sustained); more violent strums and mechanical noises that start to organize but do not have time because everything stops. All of a sudden, a terrifyingly frantic 6/4 of sixteenth notes with the bass drum setting the pace, and the guitars giving the... the beat too, because there are no chords or they are brutally violated. All jokes aside, the "harmonic" sequences are there, but are composed of dissonant "chords" specifically performed to return only anxiety. After a climax that reaches great emotional heights, the drums abruptly stop, and we find ourselves facing the frightening back-and-forth of industrial machine pistons spinning idly. Gradually, they start working again to full capacity with an increase in speed and intensity (the bass drum pulses quickly again), the crescendo is heart-pounding, the sick euphoria is great and unstoppable, it's as if we are one with the live machine. Suddenly the guitars go crazy along with the bass drum, as if something had jammed between the gears, they furiously scream marking every beat, always in this madness that continues. Gradually a more "open" and serene scenario seems to unfold, but immediately we fall back into the desperate obsession even sicker and more furious than before, with the bass drum seeming to have tachycardia.
The speed of the "heartbeat" now begins to decrease, decreasing more and more to the point after which it gradually increases until it stabilizes and, this time, stops, allowing only guitars that sound like violins to move on in a vast space. The feeling here is of total release, like taking a breath of fresh air after being among the toxic fumes and heat of a mine. The epilogue begins with these "bell-like" guitars to which, after a while, the real rhythmic section joins, "fireworks" as usual, the end. The piece encompasses many of the industrial elements that emerged during those years and borrows a certain kind of minimalism (La Monte Young, Terry Riley) but remains a standalone history.

Branca's work is positioned essentially at the edge of two macro-genres: rock and classical (beyond the clearly industrial ambitions of the beginnings and more ambient and new-age from the "Symphony" series) but, indeed, the noun "edge" is key to understanding his brilliant operation because it never really enters them, he hasn't simply dived into the genres taking obvious harmonic and instrumental stereotypes from one and the other, but he has taken, using them simply as "tools," a few, essential distinguishing elements of these two (mostly structural: dynamics and approach) and then recreated all the "meat" himself, in an incredibly personal way.