Incubus
S.C.I.E.N.C.E.

"I'm tired of drawing in black and white/my pen is dry, now I'm cornered/So tired of limiting myself to fit your definition"

Calabasas, Los Angeles, USA. We're in the West Coast, in a city that was incorporated into Los Angeles in 1991. It winds between the hills west of the San Fernando Valley and the mountains northwest of Santa Monica. Today it's considered a small residential Hollywood where the villas of the VIPs are located. Right in '91, one of the most interesting bands of the crossover/alternative metal/nü metal scene of the time was born here. Opening the Yearbook 1991 of Calabasas High School, you recognize it immediately: an American cool boy schizophrenic, fatherless, a bit of a surfer, a bit of a skater, a die-hard Faith No More fan and his two illegal guardians called Korn and Deftones; depending on his mood (he's an unstable guy) our teen throws down very tight verses and makes murals in front of the ocean, does scratch-battles with friends, but it's not enough because he's curious: he wants to know more about music, he's a great enthusiast and his heart races a thousand, he delves into the folds of jazz and reutilizes the accents as he pleases, because the present is all he has and it's his great resource; he makes many people angry too, most don't like him, because he has no principles, he doesn't follow lessons and programs, he doesn't conceive of schemes, doesn't respect, he goes with the flow because he learns from the ocean and the waves: not always is there the perfect one, but when it arrives, you have to be ready, no matter what. He is the "nightmare" of the teachers, no one knows what to tell him, no one can make him understand the reasons why one must pay attention, follow the rules, study from the past, stick to it, never disrespect those older, those who came before. And here you go, then you have a heart attack keeping up with this guy, you wonder how he never rests for a second, you wonder how he always goes beyond the creative limit, how he justifies matches that have never before been made simply because he was the one who made them; he's challenging in his audacity, but wonderful, and there are no definitions that hold because none of them would suffice. You wonder how he does it, and you envy him, yes, you envy him a lot. So you try to understand, you sit down, listen to everything he has to say one, two, three times, until the end, you think you've got it this time. And you finally come to the last thing, the one you hadn’t really grasped, it's the last track of the album and it's called Segue 1. It lasts more than 10 minutes. Okay, you can do it, you know and recognize jazz, there's a shuffle going on, the club is closing, the lights go down and the confident boy asks you: "Do you understand now?". But your answer will always be "Honestly no but please, continue", and no matter how many times he explains it again, you'll still not be able to keep up with him and for this reason you won't leave him for a second, you'll get obsessed. Jesse in " Breaking Bad" talked about how the head of someone under methamphetamine works: you dig, convinced that in the end you'll reach something, but in reality, you won't stop even once you've reached the magma. The point is digging. And here we dig a lot. You're extremely pumped, you want to listen to everything again and understand what the secret of such zeal is, you want to go to a concert of this uninhibited eclecticism that are the Incubus of S.C.I.E.N.C.E., 1997. You want it, because it's fun, it's stimulating, it's brilliant, it's limitless, it's creative, it's strong, it's rebellious, it's brilliant, it's energetic, it's fresh.

An outpouring of visceral excitement that pulsates inside you in every track and with every track it evolves, digs deeper. Redefine, Vitamin, Calgone, New Skin, stunning Summer Romance (Anti-gravity love song), oh god Nebula, no wait but then there's the funk of Deep Inside, which is super cool. You can't go in order when talking about S.C.I.E.N.C.E., here we're not dealing with just any album, we're talking about an incredible album by a group with great musical technical qualities, creative talents without any limits, essentially monsters capable of mixing hip hop, rap, funk, punk, metal, rock reggae, jazz, electronics, plus an exceptional rhythm section, that gives you goosebumps. The unlimited is at the base of their very strong identity that agonizes over 13 tracks to make you reach the end of the album discouraged and demolished in your rational attempt to always name things. Nietzsche calls it the violence of the logos, of the word that defines, concludes, fences, limits, which therefore by necessity is the bearer of omitted meanings.

"High school boy, I love you. Never change," I tell him.

He then will change.