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Or rather the art of sacrifice. Throwing your lungs over the obstacle, trying again. Not being insensitive to alienation, but rather embracing it a little. Losing your temper only to find it again. Not being an emblem for anyone, not even for yourself.
I've been waiting for a band like this. For years. That seem like centuries. Since that album ("Pura Lana Vergine" by Fluxus) that had violently assaulted my guts. No one spoke to me that way again – fierce, direct, honest, and desperate.
A blood-red thread is what ties me to Piedmont. Because that's where my parents are from, that's where my roots are. From there (Turin) came Fluxus and from there (Cuneo, the "Provincia Granda") come Ruggine. Musical agitators part of a fierce circle of sonic terrorists, united under various independent labels (in the case of Ruggine, Canalese Noise Records) who have made noise rock their creed: Dead Elephant, Fuh, Cani Sciorrì, Titor. I only mention those I know, but there are many others. They make uncomfortable, difficult, challenging music. Noisy, violent. The most beautiful stuff available in Italy at this moment. Necessary stuff.
Because you can't live only on memories, nostalgically attached to the vinyls of CSI, Massimo Volume (who, however, are coming back with a new work), Fluxus, Negazione. Remembering, along with those couple of friends as crazy as you, in front of one (and two, and three) bottles of good red, the happy times that were of our indie rock. In the end, something has to happen, damn it. Someone has to talk to us again.
Ok, something happened.
The similarities between Ruggine and Franz Goria's group are not few; the shouted and declamatory tones of the singer, for example. But also the use of two basses: one playing defense, heavy, monolithic, very raw; the other in the three-quarter, high-pitched and strident, gratings, syncopations, and fluctuations.
To make you understand even better: the sound is a successful blend of all the good noise rock listened to in the '90s: Sonic Youth, Fugazi, Jesus Lizard, Don Caballero under Zyprexa (the attack of Nautilus, which reminds us how exhilarating math rock can be), the rage of hardcore, but compressed, off-beats, Shellac's guitars torn apart and with more feeling, voids that don't need filling, garage frenzy, desperate emotion by the shovelful, a melodic sense that comes when you're already exhausted and no longer expecting it. Finally, interesting lyrics.
And then you can do two things: read and move on. Or: read and go to the Escape From Today site and order this album for a few euros. You can also download it for free from the site itself if you first want to listen to it with your own ears.
Because we complain, we complain, but serious stuff needs to be supported.
Because music doesn't beat on the 2, for crying out loud.
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