Temporal Sluts
Modern Slavery Protocol

THE REVIEW

There are people for whom rock 'n' roll is a reason for living: wake up early in the morning with rock 'n' roll in your head; eight hours of work with rock 'n' roll in your head; family and leisure always with rock 'n' roll in your head; then maybe you end up with nothing in your hands but the rock 'n' roll in your head is always there.

Inevitable that these people will eventually meet and unleash the rock 'n' roll by setting up a band without any particular ambitions.

At twenty, you've just finished your studies and looking for work makes you spin your wheels for a few months: you don't study, don't work, don't watch TV, don't go to the movies nor do sports. If you're not dead and you don't know it yet, you must be part of a rock 'n' roll band.

Often that band doesn't last, and after fully venting, slippers replace the combat boots: work comes and it's just as fine even if it's not the dream job, you start a family, and the family puts the band on the back burner. So the rock 'n' roll in your head remains but is vented in other ways.

It also happens that the band lasts, coexisting with family and work.

But how long can it last?

The Temporal Sluts have been around for twenty years; and lasting twenty years on that branch of Lake Como is not the same as lasting twenty years in one of the many rock meccas scattered around the world. Then you call yourself Rob Slut, Luca Slut, Miguel Basetta or Killer Tony and it feels like you're in New York where lasting twenty years is a piece of cake, even the Ramones managed it; Stefano calls himself Stefano and that's it, but he lasted all the same.

The path is the usual one: many concerts played inside and outside the borders and always with the same enthusiasm, supporting Radio Birdman just as in the social center two blocks from home; a handful of tracks recorded and scattered around among singles, splits, collections; then an anthology to put them all together and take stock, and that anthology almost seems like an epitaph, a tribute to a romantic and passionate conception of rock 'n' roll.

Instead, after twenty years, the Temporal Sluts reach the milestone of their first LP, which is not just an outlet for the rock 'n' roll pounding in their heads but a boundless cascade of emotion, ardor, and impulse.

Punk 'n' roll, if you really want to define the genre; Dead Boys and New Bomb Turks, if you really need reference points.

«Cosmocracy» and «Flash Crash» opening «Modern Slavery Protocol» are the manifesto of this '77 attitude; the pressing «Rum Dark Room», «Tarzana Cigarette Girl» and «Zero Killed» are high-octane rock 'n' roll; «Liquid Fever» the homage to Lemmy that was finally needed, M.O.T.O.R.H.E.AD.!, like Lemmy's homage to the Ramones, finally R.A.M.O.N.E.S.; but also New York Dolls, Heartbreakers and Johnny Thunders, Dictators and Pagans.

The recognition of the subtle art of turning success within arm's reach into crap.

If to err is human but to persist is devilish, the Temporal Sluts are hellish rock 'n' roll machines.