Although it is portrayed as yet another reckless exclusively Gion/Zornense de-platter that we will scientifically (so to speak, naturellement) examine, it is nothing more than another rattling and perfectly solid sound-project built by the genuinely protean, caustic, iridescent, multifaceted Zornesque label, where abundant fruits of the unheard collision/cross acoustic-experience of three well-known shady figures converge, namely: His raspy/contortionist vocality Sir Miguel Patton, His resounding drum mastery Mr. Joey Baron and (always) His skeletal (I dare to hazard Symbastic) bass presence Monsieur Trevor Dunn: the misdeed occurs, clear as day, not without a significant dose of complicity and under the watchful (not particularly urbane) eye/supervision of the known experimenting and space-faring sound-chef Sir Giovanni Zorn.
After the first entangled and in some ways perplexing listens, when deeply eavesdropping on the restless/previous lunar-suckling, it outlines itself as a happy audio-proposal as fantastic as it is tzadikly challenging (as well as agnostic, as usual): what they (chaotically) organize in this hefty and at times difficult/mentally digestible audio-timbale is a "smooth and delicate", dazzling/fizzy, summery little disc to take (perhaps) with us under the shading parasols to integrate the light and caressing mistral breezes coming from the facing waters: a union that should make the mildly-dogged contemporary summer days more bearable and pleasant.
[Note (not so) marginal: in the event that it is perceived (it: the pantagruelian disc) without the advisable auricular-headphone aid, it will substantially and in the short span of just 40 miserable minutes also noticeably thin out the surrounding human presence: a classic case of three seagulls (are we at the beach or not?) with a quarter of a bean: excellent music and plenty of space available, what more could one ask of them?]
But, pourquoi there always persists a but, the unusual/unlikely could also occur: that is, the hot/sweaty surrounding beach-town stunned by the umpteenth disco/summer hits might grant unexpected (and improbable) auricular attention starting already from the exploding incipit marked “Hellfire” with its obsessive, sonorous vocal shouts (with a Michele more than brilliant) interspersed within the shattering timbre-rhythm contortions of the two generous companions of (mis)adventure, acrobatics that reach their unexpected peak/climax a few minutes later in the fantastically uncoordinated “Caligula” or in the peremptory assault (complete with hyper-raspy bass à la -formidable- NoMeansNo) sound barely contained in the frantic “Equinox,” in the authentically possessed "Possession" and/or in the ruthlessly unbalanced “Le Part Maudit.”
Except for some sporadic and semi-incomprehensible/nebulous divertissement (“The Summoning” or the enigmatic title-track itself) which seems to be positioned mainly to attempt to give respite (in their way, of course) to the auricularly pierced listeners, “Moonchild” figures in its almost entirely as a masterful yet ruinous audio-work with a specific weight as abnormal as its indisputable use potential that positions it well beyond the positive watch threshold.
Achtung! Semi-certain sources claim it is seulement the primé chapter of a new, exhausting/infinite Zornian series: save yourself who can (as it were).
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