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Rating: 42 “songs” (???) in 27 minutes? Possible? Certainly, under the tutelary name of John Zorn everything is possible. Drawing inspiration from the grind of Napalm Death just as much as from the free Jazz of Ornette Coleman and even from contemporary classical music in certain episodes (profane and sacred mixed together, one might think), John Zorn forms Naked City, relying on the invaluable support of musicians of the caliber of Bill Frisell, Yamatsuka Eye (Boredoms), Joey Baron, Wayne Horvitz, without whose contribution such achievements would have been difficult to reach.
The result is evident already from this their first album; in Naked City's music every influence, every single idea is dissected and pushed to the brink, and it is precisely this peculiarity that makes them, nearly twenty years later, remain the most unique side project in the history of music.
It's definitely difficult to talk about such an album; these 42 tracks, under the sign of cacophony and the most ruthless noise, baffle the listener mainly for their ferocity, which knows no moments of respite; an attitude that, with the subsequent works “Naked City” and “Grand Guignol”, will be slightly toned down. All that remains after listening to the album is a series of sound flashbacks, an abstract flow of notes that are not really notes that continue to echo in our heads without logic, just like what happens with images after having overindulged in futurist works; indeed, when closing the eyes after flipping through an atlas of art works, it seems as if we still vaguely see forms whose colors or exact placement in space, however, cannot be identified. Well, if I have succeeded in conveying this intense audio/visual sensation to you, I think I have managed to give you a vague idea of what this album with an immense inventive and visionary charge represents, that is, a desecrating operation both towards the song form—to which rock and metal are still indisputably linked in general—and towards the reactionary narrow-mindedness of many traditionalist jazz musicians.
It’s worth mentioning at least a few tracks with, if nothing else, bizarre titles: “Sack of shit”, “Thrash Jazz assassin”, “Perfume of a critic’s burning flesh”, “Jazz snob eat shit”, “Igneous ejaculation”, “Pigfuker”, “S&M sniper”.
Highly recommended to listeners with a more open mind, to free jazz enthusiasts as well as grind-core fans, and to cultists of musical avant-garde in all its forms.
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