Nurse with Wound
Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella

Come on, this album is definitely from 1985, more or less from the Coil's period.

1-9-7-9.

Steven Stapleton and the other 3 crazies launch the Nurse With Wound project in the most picturesque way. We are at the end of the Seventies, when one thinks music is set to head towards easy, linear territory, no longer with lengthy suites or abstract concept albums. Whoever saw it as all "funky dance and synth" was sorely mistaken. Electronics, in any case, is the world that will be most tapped into, with ideas so high as to characterize the avant-garde of the Eighties.

The debut with the interminable title, "Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella", is considered one of the forerunners of the industrial/experimental era, a genre unfortunately no longer cultivated in recent years.

We therefore still rely on the past, but without being excessively annoyed or bored by it. Albums structured in such a perfect way that they provide different emotions each time. It's mainly the different nuances that are perceived, magically enriching the mind and soul.

You are no longer the same after listening to Current 93, Coil, or Nurse...

Music is played without limits, without constraints or paradoxical fences. Music is a free art, without businessmen shaping pieces and timelines. Here you are in a desolate field, with vast views and no form of control. Use everything imaginable to produce sounds, notes, and frequencies.

Only the first two albums by Cluster managed to offer such an unbridled and anarchic panorama. "Two Mock Projections" launches guitars and noise effects, offering an interesting menu right from the first seconds. An acidic serenade where it's impossible to grasp its essence, the endpoint, leaving you impassive in front of this sonic chaos.

Deafening whistles, chaos, and concrete music merge in the subsequent "The Six Buttons Of Sex Appeal". A true torture of guitars and synth without comparison. In an empty room, with white walls to plunge your gaze into, sharp desperate screams suddenly emerge. The unthinkable task of the sax in free jazz is here performed by guitars and synth. Saturated sounds, sometimes cacophonous, capable of creating addiction, are the true strong point of the combo. In fact, it's impossible not to keep returning to this habitat.

Dialogues from another hemisphere land in an outlandish dimension. Everything’s fine, this is reality.

"Blank Capsules Of Embroidered Cellophane" is young Stapleton's first masterpiece. In the Dadaist collage, even the voice of a girl reciting verses in French intrudes, while the piano and rattling tracks do their part. The rest of the track reveals nervous, chameleon-like digressions, where chaos and quiet can both be found. Finally, the guitar antics, so upset they'd make the West Coast's wild jams envious, close the work triumphantly.