Sunn O)))
White2

Sometimes even the strangest things can be inspiring muses. And so it is that from the Debaser chat you can also catch flashes of fury.

I was talking to Blechtrommel about my particularly psychopathic and furious neighbors, a woman who walks barefoot through the streets of Lecco humming lullabies in an alien language, and an eighty-year-old who dresses like a cowboy and every day at exactly 4:05 PM leans out from the balcony and watches people. He, of course, responded with bouts of sarcasm, but obviously, it was inevitable. And while I'm collecting all the pieces of how crazy the locals are, I start thinking about trivial things, absurd hypotheses.

I think about writing a horror story, but I think a newsagent who insults a seven-year-old for reading hentai is more comedic than horrific. Or maybe it’s equally both, or perhaps neither.
What to do then? I want something that matches the collective madness of the inhabitants of my city. I want something dark, something strange, alienating, black.

BLACK.

I want to make my afternoon even more delirious.

Cinema? I look through my DVDs, nothing inspires me. Nothing satisfies my demands.

Music? Mmmh... that might work. A flash. I remember the album by SunnO))) that I bought out of sheer curiosity about a year ago. Now it's gathering dust on the shelf. The first time I listened to it I didn't get through it. It seemed unlistenable. The second time, I found it genius. The third time, I found it unlistenable again.

In short, it depended on the moments, on emotions and/or situations.

The problem is it's exactly what I need now. Now.

I want something dark, sepulchral. And despite the not very evocative title ("White Two") I know it's what I'm looking for.

Three tracks. Three long tracks that cast their eyes down to hell and tell heaven to go to hell.

Already the start makes me jump.

Meditative, but unnerving. Poignant, yet dark. An unclassifiable weave of guitars that hurl themselves against the sky, forming a crater of rage.

"Hell O)))ween" is an evocation. A battle cry.

The guitars are roaring, they let themselves go in long notes, tearing each other apart. Pure musical torment.
Black ships come to mind, devouring the firmament, already acclaimed by David Tibet of Current 93, sailing towards the sun to darken everything and everyone.

Anxiety.

And if the previous track was an ascent to the apocalypse, the next "Bassaliens" is a descent into the psyche, down to the last Dantean circle. Twenty-three minutes and twenty-two seconds of sublime infernal music. The sound of the underworld, culminating in "Decay 2", whistles, wails, screeches of (ultra)sonic atmospheres. Very long, catacombal notes. They seem like Pan Sonic being drugged with "Dog Blood Rising" pills, offered by none other than David Tibet. It's a piece so disturbing and devastating that it would make even an episode of Pingu a horror.

These SunnO))) now seem genius to me again, a bit neurotic, but genius and sublime. And tomorrow? Will it be the same thing tomorrow? Will I perhaps find them unnerving and unlistenable? Could be... but in the end, who cares?

The demons are now upon me. I am lost. Farewell.

Music to die to.