Madrugada
Grit

THE REVIEW

"Grit" is a monument to imprisoned anger, violent, jarring.
"Grit" is the third album by Madrugada, the third consecutive masterpiece from Sivert Hoyem's group, and it stands there, relentless and poignant, to show us that Oslo is not so far from New York.

It is an album profoundly different from its predecessors, "Grit": for those approaching it for the first time, it is hard to recognize the same origin. Where the first two were absolute monuments to the baroque of the soul, descents into hell like a Nick Cave shipwrecked in a stormy ocean, barely plucked guitars, a cavernous and sensual voice, poignant lyrics about love and deceit, basses wandering through catacombs and Black Sabbath-like dances around a bonfire of damned souls (ah, the tender, fragile, and erotic woman on the cover of "Nightly Disease," never such a fitting depiction of the music contained within), here the guitars become aggressive, obsessive, and only rarely does a glimmer of peace appear among the grooves.

We cannot say whether this album is a step forward or not: Madrugada decided, on the third try, to swerve, and the result does not disappoint.
Starting with the initial "Blood Shot Adult Commitment," the album is a concentration of devastating hits that nevertheless retain a sick allure all their own. Above all, there is one, bearing the band's name, track number 4, Jim Morrison is resurrected and singing to us about heaven and hell.

Leaving behind the successful partnership with John Agnello, this time it's produced by Frode Jacobsen, and the difference, for better or worse, is noticeable. We thus await with trust the next step, eager to know towards which shores the band will still be capable of landing. In any case, they can bet on it, we will follow them closely.