Pure X
Pleasure

My theory is this: one morning, record stores of a large distribution chain, any in the United States, decided to bring out the remaining stock, more or less from the '80s-'90s period. Boxes and boxes of CDs placed among the special offers for, let's say, 10 dollars? Or thereabouts. Let's assume now a sufficiently reasonable time frame; let's say that, more or less, all this might have happened a couple of years ago? Maybe three. The time needed for an unlucky fellow (read with a slightly more penetrating musical culture than average) aged between 24-30 years, to decide to pick from the pile because they had heard that record but didn't own it, or had no idea what it was, perhaps liked the cover, or simply 10 dollars is a convenient price, spending it on music is good for the heart. Let's give it a year to consume and assimilate those CDs. Spiritualized, Ride, definitely the first Low, and we will observe a widespread return of past atmospheres. After all, we are describing a trend, the statistical one, however, the element with the highest frequency. It's quite easy to imagine, at this point, that all this could have traveled to Austin, Texas. And here, to our initial theoretical discourse, we are about to add a nice heartfelt monologue on the reflective and intimate part of the southern states, large plains, remarkable landscape flatness (it seems like I don't like it, but in reality, it is exactly the opposite), roads that get lost in the low sky on the horizon, horrendous metropolises just enough from an architectural point of view to make you develop a fairly strong desire to escape towards any available alternative.

The result of this combination was called Pure Ecstasy until the beginning of last year, fortunately forced into Pure X due to the name similarity with a Californian cover band; just in time to dissociate from any raver evocation, but above all to dissociate completely also from a mental point of view: because the sensation one has when listening to "Pleasure" is precisely that of an internalized and assimilated personality crisis over a long time, hidden explosive potential under the shadow of apparent calm, infinite growth possibilities (depending on the direction the record label will take). Reading here and there, it turns out that the Texan trio was born immersed in the skater culture of the Ditch, an urban area south of Austin elected from drainage channel to Zen Temple of skating, a place of worship for the philosophy of simplicity and low profile. No tricks, no exaggerations: the truly exceptional things are those with a simple style, we leave excessive technicalities to the show-offs, they are a form of vainglorious and unnecessary masturbation. The same idea that permeates the ten tracks of "Pleasure", entirely recorded live and sans overdubbing, which would not only give hope but better, because the guys know how to play, there is not even the danger of being disappointed by the live.

We have: a bass that vibrates under your feet and inside your chest, disarming reverberations, not overly complex lyrics, absolutely adorable whispering falsetto, a practically forgotten candor, and a cover winking at “Venus in Furs”, with the addition of a rose; signal that all the influences that Pure X perceive are softened, filtered, personalized. So if it seems to you that you hear the Jesus & Mary Chain, wait to delve beyond the first three minutes of “Voices”, “Easy”, or “Twisted Mirrors” to be surprised. The same goes for “Half Here”, which sounds like an outtake from the Yo La Tengo. With these premises, "Pleasure" prepares to be your summer record, the one to keep in your headphones at the end of the day or a moment before going to bed; and it's also okay if it's just pleasure, and not complete ecstasy: what Pure X wants to leave is a feeling of well-being, not a violent orgasm. It's the prolonged pleasure of “Heavy Air”, just enough to lift you off the ground but not so uncontrollable as to shoot you into the air. It’s an experience of reflection but without excessive pretenses. The tangible signal that leftover stock does a great deal of good for musical inspiration.