Rev Rev Rev
Des Fleurs Magiques Bourdonnaient

THE REVIEW

The magici fiori ronzanti. At least, that's what Google Translate tells me.

In middle school, you could choose whether to study one or two foreign languages: along with the obvious English language option, there was the obligatory choice of French; I didn't care about French, but it interested me. But what could a kid glued to the PlayStation who didn't (and still doesn't) know what to do with his future choose? A kid who wanted (and still wants) as much free time as possible to play, fool around, and get bored? Obviously, I chose the monolingual path and had to endure, alongside foreigners and misfits, in-depth lessons of Italian and English linguistics. The only real positive thing from all that is that I learned to pronounce, more or less well, English.

The Rev Rev Rev are misfits, maybe like me or maybe better than me, they manage with a great sense of noise to build melodies that are sucked into sonic vortices and an exotic psychedelia. Take Nightwine: a ballad reminiscent of Julia Dream by the Pink Floyd, skillfully mixed with feedback reminiscent of Sonic Youth-like memories, during a march of a religious ritual. The obvious comparisons with the My Bloody Valentine period Isn't Anything - Loveless and the more sustained songs of the Slowdive period Just For A Day can be made, but the extremely fuzzy openings of Caffè and Blame (which recall the violence of the early albums of A Place To Bury Strangers) and the cosmic tribalism of Ripples, give a strong personality to this band from Modena. In Italy, no one has realized the flourishing post-punk/gaze Italian scene, which is a shame because abroad it is unanimously recognized and even has its own (sadly ugly) term: I T A L O G A Z E (better than spaghetti gaze or pasta gaze or pizzagaze, although they tried to use the latter).

In short, these four guys have managed to imprint a significant step forward in their sound after their excellent debut, all thanks to a powerful rhythm section, Laura's siren voice, and Seb's schizophrenic use of the guitar. Misfits, maybe, but after all, so am I.