•
Rating:
MUON, Venetian band.
Gobi Domog, released this year, Karma Conspirancy Records.
A phrase comes to mind about the dark and muddy depths of the lagoon.
Awakening of malevolent marine entities from their long slumber. Images of magic mushrooms. Mutant animals.
Intro: a shrill, childish voice. The first track begins: powerful onset, slow and dark riffs, distressing.
Suddenly a nightmare from when I was little.
My city at night. The darkness. The color of the sky, the alleys, the canals. Very dark green, almost black. At times illuminated by flashes of yellow light. The reflections, perhaps the moon on the water. Chased, I try to hide. A faceless man with animal ears.
- Mommy, I had a bad dream
- Don’t worry little one, now I'm here with you
- But you're not mommy
- AHAHAHAHAHAH
A few seconds are entrusted to a cartoon-like introduction, complete with a sweet female voice. But the illusion lasts very little... then the martyrdom begins, the Via Crucis, the road to suffering. "Never Born" greets us with a sound of unimaginable heaviness; possessed guitars, creators of an underground, down-tuned sound that immediately reminds me of the solemn beginnings of Cathedral. Stoner-Heavy-Doom of monstrous power. The voice is clean for now, too much for my taste. I prefer more deathly tones; but let's move on. The sonic wall built by the Venetian guys opens to dreamlike, oriental-like digressions with acoustic arpeggios of undeniable charm. They soon return to the Black Sabbath side with a disproportionate and imposing sonic wall that infuses physical pain into the listening. These sounds, so dated, already heard hundreds of times, always have a devastating power over my soul; I find myself forced to turn up the volume of my stereo system, not to the joy of the neighbors. Ten minutes have passed, and another track ushers in another auditory effort. It's the twelve-plus minutes of "The Second Great Flood" that give me the certainty that these lagoon dwellers know what they are doing. Twisted plots with a vague and dark psychedelic flavor; mantra-like riffs repeated to exhaustion. Then appear before me as a point of comparison, Al Cisneros's OM. The voice takes on a Buddhist temple, Himalayan monastery chant: elegiac, repeated, obsessive. A modus operandi that annihilates and overwhelms; with bass and drums aiming to increase that sensation of strangulation, of asphyxiation that is derived from listening. After all, it is no coincidence that I mentioned the Himalayan peaks where there is a lack of oxygen. Enough, I can't go any further and two more tracks are still missing, two dark and sick songs... I need to get out of the house, to breathe, to find comfort in the fresh and brisk air of this late October..."
PS: Thanks to Genital Grinder who played the part of mommy and wrote the review.
Loading comments slowly
