Rexanthony
Memorabylia

Such is the esteem I have for an artist like Antonio Bartoccetti (legendary leader of Jacula and Antonius Rex) that for me it becomes a must to at least give a listen to the music of his son, known in the techno-trance environments (???) under the moniker Rexanthony.

 Composer Arranger Producer Performer: this is how Bartoccetti junior (class of '77) introduces himself on the home page of his website. Halfway between DJ and composer, Rexanthony is undoubtedly a prominent figure in the wide Italian techno scene of the nineties.
Born as a pianist (his technical and theoretical preparation is undeniable), the young artist will soon succumb to the allure of synthesizers and computers. His debut coincides with the hit "Gas Mask" (from 1991), and from then on, his career becomes a continuous proliferation of publications ranging from techno-rave to trance, jungle, industrial, up to experimental music tout court.
"Memorabylia", humbly subtitled "The Sound of the Gods - The Rhythm of the Heroes" (not that his father was the king of modesty!), collects tracks composed between 1992 and 2008 and offers an exhaustive overview of the young musician's fruitful career.

 Throughout the entire duration of the collection (over two hours), the influence of Bartoccetti senior is evident, an influence that manifests itself in the declared love for classical composers, the baroque taste of the arrangements, the dynamism of the pieces (vaguely inherited from the progressive tradition of which the father was a worthy representative), the restless gothic/horror atmospheres that blend well with the danceable pulse of these 24 tracks.
The initial "Futurshock" is paradigmatic, which in its incipit closely reminds us of the art of Antonius Rex: the wind hisses and the mephistophelian roar of an effected voice that caustically intones "Welcome to the dark side of your mind" directly refers to the atmospheres of albums like "Anno Demoni" and "Praeternatural." But the references to the art of the old Bartoccetti end here, and from this point on, it will be difficult for an Antonius Rex fan to feel comfortable with the notes and settings offered by this little Mozart of the console.

 Tunz tunz tunz tunz: this, and nothing else, is what to expect from Rexanthony. So let's reset the brain and take a detailed look at what this character is made of.
First of all, the sore notes: it is undeniable that we are in the presence of a skilled and imaginative artist, as well as a serious and rigorous professional (just mention the manic attention to detail, the meticulous construction of sound layers, the care with which sounds are built, always imposing and finely polished). However, it is unfortunately sad to note how often such an expenditure of energy is sadly put at the service of the worst techno we can imagine.
I have great respect for techno music in general, but not for that banal and strongly commercial one, packaged specifically to make the braindead masses move on Saturday night.
And it is precisely this kind of techno we are talking about, the techno produced in industrial quantities for the past fifteen years worldwide, for use, consumption, and abuse by real music ignoramuses, plastic thugs perennially munching snacks, whose only artistic sensibility seems to be the concern of having a rhythmic foothold on which to slide their chemical ecstasy.
Kick and hi-hat galore, then, and melodies so tacky that even the worst Fargetta would not dare conceive (not that the father, Bartoccetti senior, was the king of good taste!). This music evokes really ugly images: glossy nightclub interiors, shabby corridors, shiny counters, dull mirrors, sweaty dudes in tight white t-shirts and photonic sunglasses, finger in the air, drink in hand, goofy smiles, and mouths chewing kilos of gum to better savor the hit.
Here, when Rexanthony's music falls into the sterile repetition of the most obvious and crowd-pleasing techno clichés, among pauses, rolls, restarts, and jingles so embarrassing that even in small Sunday afternoon discos one would not dare so much, the whole becomes really irritating and hard to digest.

 However, when our artist decides to step on the gas and abandon himself to the traumas and hallucinations of uncompromising techno, the story changes drastically: so let's crank up the volume, psychologically prepare for the imminent eviction, and let our brains be blown away with pieces like "Infected", "Cocoacceleration", "Rapture", "Shock Up", or "Morphinespeed", excellent essays of "techno of unease," where the kick drum beats so fast and hard that it's not even worth dancing, but just sitting, shaking one's head like those affected by Parkinson’s disease, and enduring the noise of techno in its most violent and disorienting form.
In these two extremes, in my opinion, lie the pros and cons of Rexanthony's music, an artist to respect and at the same time to curse for certain releases that make you want to take the stereo and throw it out the window (though it is true that certain music doesn’t make sense to listen to on CD, but should be experienced live, and for this reason, I promise to attend one of Our artist's performances soon to formulate a more reliable opinion).

The palm for the kitsch piece definitely goes to "Triturator Triumph", which is nothing but a techno version of Verdi's Triumphal March. Rarely (maybe at the stadium) have I heard something tackier. Closely follows "Digital Bach", "X Elisa", and "Technoshock Six", a plasticized (and undeclared) version of the famous and overused "Carmina Burana."
Particularly painful to my ears is the famous "Capturing Matrix", a piece that in 1995 earned the young DJ worldwide success, a track that distorts the monumental "Capturing Universe," too by the revered father's Antonius Rex (but "Capturing Matrix" won’t be the only theft at the expense of Antonio Bartoccetti's repertoire: in "Krimesquad", for instance, we find the female chant from the title track of "Switch on Dark," the last artistic effort of Antonius Rex, an album embodying the presence of Rexanthony himself as producer).
Also worth noting are the historical "For You Marlene" (dated 1992, among the first hits of Our artist), "Polaris Dream" (from 1996, whose video had the honor of heavy rotation on MTV), and the overwhelming "The Symbol", a magnificent tribute to Cocoricò, a true hymn for the tripped, an anthem to scream at the top of your lungs with amphetamines bursting inside.
Notably appreciable are the attempts (not abundant, to tell the truth) to stray from the limited techno path (the electro-lounge aperitif of "Human Decodification", the frantic funk of "The System", the pounding industrial of "Ecstasypills").

Techno-trance culture, worship of drugs, terror, and love for technology (seen as a nightmare and at the same time pedantically used as an expressive medium): this seems to be, ultimately, the synthesis of Rexanthony's artistic universe, undoubtedly a professional to respect, but whose proposal should be carefully considered if one has serious problems with the brattiest techno.

Happy (dis)co-ing.