Two numbers, with birth records in hand.

Franz Goria, singer and guitarist, born in 1971. Already the mind behind Fluxus, never officially disbanded, with whom he signs four masterpieces, he sets guitars and basses on fire in a hand-to-hand assault and fills Italian rock and roll with stones. In everyday life, he is a graphic designer.

Dan Solo, bassist. He cuts his teeth with Jester Beast (although, more than cutting, he destroys them between brawls and metal), then he gains some spotlight with Marlene Kuntz, which he leaves in 2004 due to "insurmountable issues concerning practical/organizational and human difficulties.” Replace the godanesque paraphrase above with the equivalent "Dan wanted to smash things up again, and we didn’t feel like it anymore." Given the supposed consequences, bingo.

Valerio Alessio, drummer. Less is known about him, yet so much more at the same time: lots of experience in Turin, especially in the Murazzi area. Did I forget to mention that for years he destroyed kit after kit in hardcore projects? Enough?

In short, they’re not exactly three individuals who just appeared from the last corner of any street in the past month and a half, shall we say. Together they form Petrol. But wait, "that" Petrol capable of something like "Dal Fondo," dated 2007? Exactly them: only now, something has changed. The core, primarily, has halved due to the defections of Nino Azzarà first - a guitar reinforcement from Mambassa of whom, frankly, little trace will remain - and, far more significantly later, Alessandro Bavo, keyboards (no, they don't have keyboards anymore? Oh, indeed) and producer of Casasonica. Better yet: was producer of Casasonica. Yes: the gang led by Max Casacci of Subsonica that had put that masterpiece of their debut into focus has vanished into thin air, unable to bear the burdensome weight of record industry competition.

To cut to the chase, these three distinguished gentlemen on the threshold of their forties find themselves, from scratch, starting over. And they do it, listen closely, self-producing. Get it, indie rocker who follows me from home? No sleight of hand from Social Welfare funds or economic subterfuge: just the desire to play and the attachment to a passion that, noting the results, has always made me think of something more than a pure and simple alter ego.

And here is a tangible sign of life, "L'Amore È Un Cane" (a quote from Bukowski: the exclusivity is not just Teatro Degli Orrori's, don’t you think?), a limited edition EP in which Our Friends strip off any '80s glitch that could permeate the songs of their debut (new wave? Also) and return to a rock form that’s just slightly more than enviable. Four tracks that surprise with their immediacy and compactness. The title track, killer riff, and light-noise progression– if a single there must be, let it be like this, at least – plants itself immediately in the brain and doesn't leave. "Supernova" caresses during the verses and explodes in the chorus, with a wall of sound we haven't heard in a while. "Come Ieri" carries away, with a singer-songwriter flow, the residues left on the field, offering a power rock perhaps not very daring, but certainly effective for circularity and instrumentation (you will discover how strange it can be to naturally sing a text by Franz!). Then there's "Cura," massive stoner with hard dynamism, that shuffles the deck, combining testosterone fluidity with incendiary thoroughness in a blend that grabs the ears, crushes them to the ground, and then takes the liberty of sweeping away the dust.

"Consume away as everything is already expired / And your flaw, your gesture / Is foreseen and tolerated"

Once again, there's nothing to say, they have won.

Wait for the album.

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