La Quiete
La Fine Non E' La Fine

I know, it's already there. Don't be mad at me, Stefano, but now, you say emoviolence and (perhaps unjustly) think of La Quiete, you say screamo and equally unjustly think of La Quiete.

Again, you say Italy and think of La Quiete, you say Debaser and think of La Quiete. You eat and think of La Quiete. You say review and think of La Quiete again. Even the sermon in church is so full of subliminal messages that compel you to think of La Quiete, that you come home and can't help but write a review about La Quiete. Why? Because deep down the subliminal messages mean well, they advise you, they are wise and prudent, they possess the truth and offer it to you freely and discreetly, without being intrusive. They are prophets, at home and abroad, a bit like La Quiete: after the Pooh the second most exported Italian band overseas, but also from the other shore of the lake or river. Surely the first to be exported without shame.

Scandalously original compared to the scene someone would like to relegate them to (but who then? The mafia? The Pope?), they compete with 'Envy' to "make the most beautiful emoviolence record ever". The "new" scene doesn't hold up in comparison: Daitro, Ampere, Amanda Woodward, Yage, Saetia, Hot Cross bla bla bla, nothing to do for them, although all very pleasant in playing with the arpeggios, the explosions, again the arpeggios, but really nothing truly exceptional. An Italy finally proud of its underground fabric is what we would always like to see: La Quiete help. These guys from Forlì have helped create from nothing a series of bands, and a (oh dear) scene there in Romagna, which in Europe, in America is on everyone's lips. 'Raein' (disbanded?) and 'The Death Of Anna Karina', besides La Quiete, resonate in the bedrooms plastered with posters of every good myspace-addict in the overseas lands. But, beyond the posters, as often happens, it's the music that really counts, so let's talk about it. No, too difficult, let's say that first the lyrics count, but only to buy time and then find the words for the music. So, the lyrics: the lyrics are beautiful, darn it.

Never has Italian been used so poetically without being pretentious or melancholic without being adolescent (and here we refer you to the title track, a true and proper anthem among the tears); free from the chains of metric oppression, our language is a splendid weapon that, sure, takes its time to express the necessary concepts, after all it doesn't have the compression of good English, but it reveals itself as something truly unique, unrepeatable.
And the music... oh heck, the music, it's true... I was forgetting about it. Well, here it is that we Italians, and La Quiete first of all, reveal themselves as true masters of compression. Where usually a band like 'Daitro', mind you, does not certainly make compliments in the parsimony with which it distributes riffs, in 60 seconds La Quiete sketch, outline an entire world, unleash what 'gy!be' find, and not always, only after half an hour of distressing lamentations. It's all an overlapping of sections, of continually evolving riffs engaged, never so much, in a relentless, devastating evolution, and all this in just a handful of seconds. From "Raid Aereo Sul Paese Delle Farfalle" which immediately stuns to then reveal the first elements of almost avant-garde research (avant-garde of emoviolence to be clear) in the construction of melodies and the rhythmic component that we will find throughout the record, !up to "La Fine Non è la Fine“.

Among these, songs like "Ciò che non Siamo Ciò che non Vogliamo" with tear-jerking, heart-rending, everything-tearing final, and "Metempsicosi del Fine Ultimo: Nevrastenica Oscillazione Fra Poli Estremi" show all the musical genius of a band that possesses conciseness and incisiveness but also a melodic taste probably unique in Italy and, who knows, maybe even in the world. And then, above all, the implacable final blow of a title track that, more than a song, by now has the characteristics and the potential of a generational anthem. Really? "Hai scritto sul mio corpo che non è la fine“.

For me, yes.