Madensuyu
A Field Between

Madensuyu. Mineral water in Turkish.

For many years I studied Turkish and for just as many years I lied, so I don't even know a word in Turkish. There's little bewildering in this album, and there's little time available to remain bewildered. Few pauses, lots of haste, lots of nervousness. Given the Belgian origin of the duo (one guitar and voice and the other drums and voice too), I'd like to say a few words about Giaccherini's goal. It’s not true, but I said I often lie. And perhaps I could be lying about their origin too because in all honesty (so to speak) I haven’t checked it, but I hypothesized it going back down memory lane until I reached our first romantic encounter: during the viewing of Ex-Drummer. Was Ex-Drummer Belgian??

In the soundtrack of Ex-Drummer, that's where we had filthy sex. With Papa Bear, a track that perfectly synthesizes their style and with which you immediately understand if there's a compatibility between them and your ear.

The absolute king of the album is a plural: the eighth notes. Eighth notes forever, eighth notes on the strings, eighth notes on the ride, eighth notes on eighth notes and more eighth notes until they incredibly become ninth notes. What a shame! No, it’s not true, they don’t become ninth notes. Eighth notes. Besides being a ranking position that sounds pretty good, eighth notes simply mean halving the rhythmic measure of quarter notes. And so on (like) a hundred and fifty beats per minute you feel like a badass guy who’s playing really fast. Or not.

If there's a fishing rod in stagnant mud pulling up an old jar of Sonic Youth filled with waste and remnants of Frank Black and Andrew Falkous jam, this is Madensuyu's fishing rod that, disappointed and sweaty, play a bit with the jar, taste the jam, and leave naked and dirty.