I Was a Teenage Satan Worshipper
Whatevernights

A cigarette left burning in the ashtray while you watch it die. A puddle on whose surface aquatic geometries are drawn. The autumn leaves burning under the sun in a bloodthirsty red. 

The melancholy that you feel on your skin.

"Whatevernights" is a record of sensations, capable of uniting sadness with pure euphoria in a way never so inspired. It's no coincidence, in fact, that the record opens and closes with two songs that travel in apnea, reaching the highest peaks of light and shadow: respectively "Bunnies" and "Happy Hearts". The first dangerously veers into glitch territories so dear to Mùm before coloring its moderately electronic swirling with pastel hues. The second, however, a masterpiece, floats in mid-air on a virtually perfect arpeggio, calibrating sighs to the rhythms and recalling, more than once, the ethereal and heavenly atmospheres of the most otherworldly Slowdive. 

Once you enter the mood where anything can happen, you begin to adore a record that, together with a "Heavy Metal Nation", that mixes indie, 8-bit, and blatantly rock riffs, and a wildly energetic "Boys And Pigs", strikes you with a relaxed and unsettling "(Lost Hours)", which is certainly rather bland compared to an extraordinary "Happy Hearts", but which after all is a pleasure to listen to.

The "I Was A Teenage Satan Worshipper" create music already seen (echoes of Crystal Castles, Slowdive, Mùm, Justice), yet so well reimagined and inspired, it seems to work in images, overwhelming the listener in whichever place they wish to be transported. Because with this music, truly any place could be right. From a rave party to a snow-covered field, from a burning forest to a pub of drunkards.

With musical pieces like "The Popper's Song", indie-rock like the Dandy Warhols painted with slight electro gears that fit perfectly with the forming texture, it's impossible to stay still. And you already feel elsewhere. With your head, possibly, between the clouds of a deep red and bloodthirsty sunset. And you're there in mid-air, confusing that ethereal red with your own heart. 

A record that succeeds damn well in its ingenious aim: to make you travel. It doesn't matter whether with the mind (perfect, the broken and destroyed rhythms of a beautiful "Drop Your Gun!", or the very strange "This Boy Can't", almost a crossover between 80s new-wave and glitch) or while dancing tirelessly on some decidedly pumped passages ("Dream People"), in an imperfect, yet fascinating work like "Whatevernights", full of brilliance and some half disappointments (a slightly below-par "Hags In Black Leather Jackets"), often, you can forget to even exist.

And your thoughts, your feelings, inevitably end up coloring the sky. 
Every time you're sad, the extraordinary "Happy Hearts" will throw you somewhere, and you’ll immediately feel better. 

And the cigarette is still there, in its ashtray. And it dies.