Storm{O}
Sospesi Nel Vuoto Bruceremo In Un Attimo E Il Cerchio Sarà Chiuso

Yet another chapter in which we must write good words about Italian reality, it is pleasing, and there is only gratitude for the birth of such works. This time we are in Piedmont, and they are Storm{O}, where the brackets serve a wordplay between the language of Albion and Italian. Storm that rages and flock of birds. But that flock seems to have come out of Hitchcock's movie. Black and unsettling, dark hues that mold into music, suspended threats that explode into a whirlwind of melancholy and nihilism. In short, blooming and spring are distant; inside here is a freezing winter that just doesn't want to go away. It is what can be found inside us at every single moment. That worm that shatters dreams and distorts reality. And they remind us of it without trouble, venomously bringing it to the surface.

We will burn. We will scorch. And inevitably, the salvos are incendiary. A decadent symphony of abrasive hardcore punk, comparable in some ways to Birds In Row or the primordial schizophrenia of Converge, because yes, inside the platter “Sospesi Nel Vuoto Bruceremo In Un Attimo E Il Cerchio Sarà Chiuso” there is the technical vein hidden behind the constantly hammering rage. Waves that batter, hit square in the face and knock you down. The skill, however, is always in finding balance, and Storm{O}, aided also by a muscular but lo-fi production, find it in the ceaseless melody. It is there that remains as a leitmotiv, nostalgically stands out, seemingly disappears only to resurface in the emotion of words shouted with a suffering scream that manages to give even more depth to the suffocating guitars, to the uncontrollable drums that draw unpredictable and claustrophobic patterns. Then let's face it, how beautiful it is to hear Italian. A hermetic expressiveness, but which drags and hits the target, texts full of disillusionment, where the alienation of a world increasingly close to integrating men as cogs in a machine is felt, perhaps even with the use of spoken word parts, as dark as they are enveloping.

The transience of the water droplet (the “o” in brackets also symbolizes this) is the right metaphor to understand the fleeting compositions that create a uniformity to be listened to without breaks, interruptions. Starting with “In Volo” and reaching the end with “Per Le Tue Lacrime”, where there is room for experimentation and the framework becomes more intimate in “Respiro”, a fragility that serves to prepare us for the caustic finale. The anomie takes over, and the aggressiveness is dense with tearing distortions. A sort of manifesto of Storm{O}. Among memories and shards of the past evoked with the sound quiet of Loma Prieta and resignation to an oblivion from which a solution is hard to find, we are accompanied to the exit, exhausted but convinced we have listened to one of the most valid proposals that the Italian scene can offer at this time. Ah, if laziness assails you, visit their Bandcamp because, for Storm{O}, quality is also free. Spread the disease, indeed.