Stanford Prison Experiment
The Gato Hunch

THE REVIEW

This time the storeroom is that of the Metal Factory in Bologna, the last Wednesday of my Bolognese city life. Davide talks a lot, scolds me about the term post-hardcore and alternative rock. His shop has Metal in the name but he hates it, he hates it but sells tons of it, knows it inside out and the snow falls but doesn’t stick, the sleet hurts but waters the streets. My last week under the 2 towers is a long weep from the sky, the city bids me farewell, somewhat melancholically with a cold that comes from the northeast; where I am now sleeping, where I have returned.

I really don’t feel like telling the story of the Stanford prison, it’s up to you to look up information about it but it’s such common knowledge that I’m ashamed for you if you’ve never heard of it. The band, however, is solid, granitic and derivative, from Los Angeles but with east coast sounds. Their plates spun Fugazi a lot, maybe too much, maybe just right, and equally often that murky gurgling of Jesus Lizard and the compressed guitar work of Helmet and Rollins Band, with some really groovy splashes.

The various influences manage to mix as much as oil and water manage to blend when shaking a bottle.
My advice is to listen to the whole album, but Cansado is a hell of a track.