Tètèma
Necroscape

PostMetalGrind

AvantgardeSperimental-DroneElectronic

Confusion and tribalism with a white weapon...actually gray tending towards black ORGASM.

Second (mis)fortunate musical offspring of Patton and Pateras; six years after Geocidal. Nothing has changed in the auditory congestion implemented.

Compositional freedom that intensifies, becoming an eruptive magma. They play at home, being produced by Ipecac Records, owned by the leader of Faith no More.

This time the duo is not alone; they call at court such Guthrie (pounding drums) and Veltheim (various strings and bows).

Four samurais of noise between Zeni Geva, indeed, and John Zorn of Naked City.

If a musical representation of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle existed, it would be effectively sketched by Tètèma.

In other words, notes as subatomic particles, with positions and velocities impossible to define within a system of physical coordinates.

From the coherent universe of Necroscape propagate schizophrenic waves, quantum-sonic translations heralding trajectories impossible to anticipate.

Claustrophobic and unpredictable blasts, like the intrinsic plot of reality that ensnares us and we delude ourselves into interpreting.

Contortions, epileptic lashes, electric convulsions, and acoustic decompressions.

And then polymorphic strobilations that branch out, repellent yet fascinating, tridimensionally traced by the structures of Talitha Kennedy in her artwork.

They stupefy and drive the blade with the Rave-Digital of "Soliloquy": they entangle themselves and terminate their mad dash between Torture Garden and Prodigy.

They push beyond the abyss with "Haunted on the Uptake". Hardcore running on derailing and frenetic tracks; they become Fantomas prey to febrile convulsions and dealing with low-grade horror movie soundtracks.

Patton is the usual renowned vocal showman; he changes register and tone in a nanosecond. Beastly screams, torn, convulsive as a person about to be eviscerated; immediately after the calm, the blinding whiteness that refers to the backdrop of the cover.

"Funerale di un Contadino" closes the musical essay: sung in a strange Italian idiom between Morricone and Capossela. A funeral and ominous ode that the undertaker Tom Waits will appreciate...We are sure I, a wandering individual of the mountains, and my companion, a nomad of the Navigli of Milan.

Album of the year, no doubt about it...DEAD STILL...