Little Claw
Human Taste

When I arrive in Milan, I almost feel like vomiting; it happens almost every time I go there. Not for aesthetic reasons, but because it is different.

When I arrive in Milan, the tranquility of the rural landscapes I'm used to, the cornfields and tomato fields that cover the infinite outside my bedroom window, seem nonexistent, like just a wild dream. From the order, from the sensible intersection of the streets in my town, I find myself in an asphalt jungle with no head or tail. The streets of Milan are a trap, like being blindfolded and abandoned in the center of a crowded square; I no longer have anything under control, the spaces expand infinitely, and I feel a sense of vertigo, a mental confusion that goes beyond what traditionally characterizes me. My 106 is outstripped by savvy bikers who find "Valentino" spaces on the sides of my car. The noises and lights are psychedelic, elusive, and devoid of any sense. Everything seems alien, distorted, and sick. It deeply disturbs me.

The Little Claw probably have never been to Milan, but it's Milan that comes to my mind as they rattle their instruments in their bouncing between an acidic acidic blues and the rawest and most low-fi noise. Kylinn Lunsford's voice terribly resembles Kim Gordon's on this Human Taste, which seems to be "the point" of what had emerged from the previous "Little Claw" and "Spit and Squalor Swallow the Snow."

Everything else is Noise, primitive, obsessive, and simple Noise.

Enjoy yourself! (average man or not).