The Barsexuals
Black Brown and White

THE REVIEW

Arms stolen from agriculture.

Salvatore cultivates the land.

Wakes up early in the morning and heads to the field to hoe, sow, and harvest, following the cycle of the seasons.

He goes crazy listening to rock‘n’roll but even more with blues, because he never forgets that the blues had a child and that child was called rock‘n’roll.

He loses his mind when he starts playing the guitar, but he has calluses all over his hands and not just on his fingertips, those big and rough farmer hands.

He has a thing for Tony Iommi and Black Sabbath.

So, when he ends up playing the guitar in a band, he chooses the nickname Sabbathor: one-third Salvatore, one-third Black Sabbath, the final third The Zappator, the digger.

That nickname contains all of him.

...

Voices stolen from the psalms.

Valentino has the possessed temperament of a preacher mixed with that of a brawling charlatan.

Some point him out as the anointed one of the Lord, but he tells a different story.

“Reverend Charlie Jackson appeared to me in a dream and spat on me. I interpreted it as a baptism.”

So, when he ends up singing in a band, he chooses the nickname Reverend Valentine.

...

Headbutts stolen from walls.

Igor.

Igor who, as a boy, listens to The Who's concert at Leeds and watches the recording of the one at the Isle of Wight and gets Keith Moon, the madness made drummer, imprinted in his mind.

Igor builds a rudimentary drum set and sets himself a goal in life: to be as crazy as Keith Moon.

So, when he ends up playing drums in a band, he chooses the nickname Igor Mortis and inevitably finishes concerts by headbutting the cymbals.

The first few times end in a bloodbath, then the wounds turn into scars and he becomes a Frankenstein creature.

...

Sabbathor, Reverend Valentine, and Igor Mortis for quite some years have been The Barsexuals, from Lucera, Foggia, Puglia, Italy.

The debut album, “Black Brown And White,” is only a few months old.

Recorded at Sabbathor's farmhouse in a day and a half, an extra half day because the first session ended in a colossal fight among the three, the roadies, and the crew.

And then everyone went off fraternally to the bar, because no one remembers the fight - much less the reasons from which it originated - and there's a need to celebrate the end of recordings.

Then off to Salerno to the studios of Provolone Records - they're really called that - where Rosario of the Provincials is waiting to mix everything.

And finally to Disco Futurissimo which distributes the album.

... By the way, the stories of Disco Futurissimo and the Provincials would also be worth telling because they speak of a beautiful, passionate, and engaging way of making music, which is about making music that is liked and because it's liked and when it's liked, and it doesn't mean it won't be done sooner or later ...

Then, if anyone's interested, “Black, Brown And White” is a filthy and putrid blues album, played with vigor and fervor at the edge of punk, like the delta of the Mississippi relocated to New York in 1975, by a strange twist of spatial and temporal coordinates, like the Oblivians playing songs by the Gories who play songs by the Cramps.

The voice of the Reverend is that of the evil ogre.

Sabbathor's guitar is saturated with fuzz.

Igor Mortis never stops headbutting the drums' cymbals.

“Black Brown And White” is a great album.

Need to know anything else?