Savage Republic
Trudge

After the implementation of the coup project of the "tragic figures," the Savage Republic, devastated by the coup d'état, basked lethargically on its own ruins, wrapped in a sweaty warmth, awaiting uncertain developments.

"Make the pain go away!!!"

Everything seems to flow with complete naturalness, the acidic guitar plots are scented with mystical Middle East, the powerful and ever-oscillating rhythm section, the atmosphere liquid and shimmering like mirages in the burning desert, sinuously unfolds in an atmosphere laden with impending danger.

"I paint burning buildings"

The aftermath of the coup is still there, like purplish bruises throbbing on the flesh: "Walking flesh," that voice has disappeared, it would no longer make sense now, not in that form, commanding improvised firing squads meant to suffocate any resistance "when everything else failed," it wheezed disgusted by "Machinery," "Kill the fascists!" it shrieked in full despair from the top of mountains of bones and ashes.

The beaten sheets and barrels, the exploding chaos of tribal polyrhythms dripping with malaise, the terrifying and dense barbed wires created by psychotic guitars, the pure instinct of survival...everything must now be resized, it's impossible to go beyond.

The four tracks of Trudge seem to express themselves in contradictory sonic movements, tense, yet wavering and numbing; they carry a healthy dose of fascinating exoticism laden with guitar mantras always balancing between noise and melody, the rhythms overloaded but smooth; solemn and harsh tracks, subtly intimidating.

The Savage Republic finds no peace, deceiving itself by intoxicating in stunning and polychromatic ethno-psychedelic narcotic effusions, but an anxious latent torment seems to resist any attempt at repression.

"The crisis of our country is not caused by external forces, the danger lurks within"