Napalm Death
Nazi Punks Fuck Off

Empty city...

Unreal reality...

I went down to Domodossola early for the usual Monday morning coffee. No work today...maybe it resumes tomorrow, but I'm not so sure.

We are in the red zone, since yesterday morning. Then it became orange, but that changes little.

Empty streets...

Bars deserted by the population; little desire to talk, little desire to read the newspapers. A desire to return home as soon as possible, to the first hills of the Ossola capital.

During the short trip, listening to early Bob Dylan, Napalm Death comes to mind. As always when I'm depressed, when my anxieties crash over me, violent music, the most crude and uncontrolled Metal helps me.

I park, rush up the short mule track and I'm here. My women are out; better this way because I can turn up the stereo to full volume, devastating already compromised ear drums, making walls and windows shake.

The search is brief; I go straight for it, I already know where my hand will aim.

I open the case, trembling I take out the CD; I insert it into the player...all that's left is to press the Play button and wait a few moments. Then I'll start to feel better, at least for the next eleven short minutes.

Nazi Punks Fuck Off Dead Kennedys cover awaits me...sounds initially sadistic and slow. But the explosion happens in a matter of seconds. Total chaos, Grindcore-Hardcore fills my cramped den. Mark's pestilential growl, Mitch's psychotic screams, serial killer guitars, Danny's usual shredding drums. Little over a minute and I feel at ease in this auditory filth. It's time for Aryanisms another lethal track, played at unheard speed. Jesse Pintado's (R.I.P.) "flamenco" riffs dominate the scene. Terrifying Death Metal; slowdowns and restarts timed to perfection. Everything under control, everything done on purpose to relax me...and that's how it happens.

Again Nazi Punks Fuck Off, this time live. A recording to say the least amateurish; you understand nothing or almost. Instruments are indistinct. The drums cover everything; obscure lava flows. Cacophony to the nth degree; a balm for my battered psyche.

We're already at the end; we're at the final act of the EP. And here the Napalms experiment with electronics, Industrial. A caustic remix of Contemptuous; I believe this unusual version is the work of bassist Shane Embury. Skeletal Godflesh colliding with the grayness and strict Dub of Scorn...this is good...I feel better, much better.

I turn off my faithful system...I look out the window and meet the gaze of the white mountain peaks...Everything will pass very soon, my beloved summits. I will still have time to walk upon you, to admire you up close...to find myself again...

"It will pass like water along the river
like this wind passes
like footsteps in time"

Diabolos Rising 666