The Bloody Beetroots
Romborama

The 2009 was the year of the Hardcore Techno revival. Yes, indeed, they finally managed to dust that off too; now we're only missing the speedcore gabber, and they'll start doing revivals of revivals (if they're not already doing them).

But what is hardcore techno? Essentially, it is a genre of electronic dance music born around Rotterdam: powerful, aggressive, industrial beats, some sub-bass frequency that made you soil yourself, and a repetitiveness that, without some little pills here and there, drove you to madness.

The fact is, unfortunately for us young Italians, this ear-splitting stuff was popular in the early '90s, just riding the wonderful killer wave of the rave period. So, feeling nostalgic for a time we never lived, Justice appeared in 2007, and off we went with the revival: no more sissy trance, away with all the commercial house from posh neighborhoods, welcome back to shabby raves, but this time with more alcohol and less MDMA, because if you return home from a party without dry vomit on your H&M shirt, it's like you weren't there at all.

And guess what, alongside Justice and Boys Noize, there are also two Italian "bands": Crookers and The Bloody Beetroots. Let me note that I don't want to get lost in easy nationalism, and I’ll try to describe The Bloody Beetroots’ album without thinking they come from Bassano del Grappa. After all, who cares about geography in music, right? Watching these two merry globetrotters who always appear in public with masks on their faces (who said Daft Punk?), in this case of Venom, Spider-Man's nemesis or whoever he is related to Spider-Man, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately!) I don't know comics, and you don't exactly think, "Oh, they're Italian," nor do you think they're American, like, you don't think at all.

Well, this little record, compiled after a well-nourished sequence of remixes, is more than anything a compilation of already published things plus some new ones, but that doesn’t really affect us since we DeBaser fans spend more time criticizing (or worshiping) Dream Theather than being in clubs or on "in" sites, so it's unlikely you've already heard any of the previous, unknown EPs.

Okay, let’s start with the "ugly" things of this "Romborama." The first three tracks are strongly influenced by Justice: ominous organs everywhere reminding us that, okay, we’re having fun on the dance floor and sweating like pigs, but sooner or later we have to kick the bucket. Perfect for a carefree Saturday night. Moreover, it’s an essentially danceable album and that’s it: it’s difficult that you would put it in the iPod to listen from start to finish. The tracks are disconnected, and from one track to another, the style changes considerably. On the other hand, if you make dance music...

By the fourth track "Awesome," something different is already felt: a hip-hop bragging that seems to shout "U-S-A-U-S-A," but if you think for a moment, Americans aren’t so measured and refined with bragging; the track stops at two and a half minutes, right in the middle of your enthusiastic hip-swiveling. And then, well, comes a bomb, and it’s called "Cornelius," a raver with green hair and sweaty who elbows his way on the dance floor shouting excitedly "'ardkore, u know da score!" and the initial doubts raised by the start of the disc disappear in the crowd; trampled by an unstoppable slam-dance, and in the background, an "OH, OH, OH, OH!!" that sounds like a war cry of the Huns. Pressure increases, steam makes the pressure cooker implode, everyone, including Huns, slams in a violent and joyful ecstasy. Someone pukes here and there, someone is forced to leave the fray with a bloodied face, and everyone is happy. And the carousel doesn’t stop. "It's better a DJ on 2 turntables" takes a turn towards a minimalist maranza à la "Flat Beat" by Mr. Oizo, "Talkin' in my sleep" is apocalyptic soul erupting from the esophagus, head-bobbing like a Bobble Head until the head falls off, "Butter" swerves back to Justice territory, making even a banal handclap seem terrifying. And again, another hit, "Warp 1.9" with the prestigious Steve Aoki: a sonic fart that rises and falls like a roller coaster for three minutes interspersed with hand claps and brutally gay "UhUh" sounds.

There’s also room for little things defined by others, I agree, as "Morricone-like," that is, short and tender interludes that amidst so much majestic sweat warm the heart. I mean, how can you not be touched when the little girl in "Little Stars" hums Jingle Bells?

All things not functional to clubs, sure, but they show how high, or at least towards uncharted territories, the Bloody Beetroots aim, who among other things between a DJ set in Buenos Aires and one in Tampa manage to find the time to tell the journalist on duty that their favorite records are "Metal Box" by P.I.L. and other punk things. A punk attitude, certainly outside the box, is needed to not make the usual autotune seem vulgar as in "Second Streets Have No Name" or not make a mix of organ and faux strings on an old-school drum machine sound sugary.

And then, well, there would still be other interesting tracks to tell you about this exuberant album. Suffice it to say that the Italian electronic music is running faster than Italy's club scene (that of Gigi D'Agostino) is realizing. The Bloody Beetroots have kicked off their Italian boots and are taking over the world. And if you already have Vitalic's latest fabulous album, this is where you need to go to understand where EDM is heading in the new decade.

And also, why not, if you want to really mess up your striped sweater.