Hate & Merda
La Capitale del Male

On your knees, on chickpeas.

They are called Hate & Merda, they are from Florence, and they record for DIO)))DRONE.

I stopped at "Hate & Merda," I imagine for some of you it took the additional push of "Dio)))drone."

For all those who weren't seduced by the charming grace of the moniker and who managed not to resist the advances that the name of the record label keeps throwing from the lines above, well, my friends, this is something that is not for you.

Punk.
Of punk spirit, for sure. Knees in the wind, asphalt, abrasions, disinfecting with glue.

Sludge.
Shit, sludge means purge, what else do you need to add?

Have you ever sucked a dick? Tell me, have you ever sucked a dick?

Drone.
The collective/label is called "dio drone," diodrone... of course it has to do with drone. It does, but it is not its essence.

The evil is necessary, evil is also necessary.

They are unnamed unnecessary 1 and unnecessary 2. One on drums, the other on guitar and vocals, both with stockings on their faces.
"Anonymity doesn't distinguish us, anonymity brings everything closer to reality."
Self-irony in abundance, almost as many as the blows.

"Bologna Violenta" has opened a squat. "Hate & Merda" steals the "c"s, changes them to "q"s, skips the first three hours, and craps in the register.

Dirty enough to hurt, as beautiful as a sun, one of the best extreme music albums of the year. And in this, something new.
I'm going to see them in a month, you can start by getting your lunch money stolen. Here