The God Machine
Home

I am back from my usual solitary walk, through silent paths, lots of snow, and an unexpected mystical fog that suddenly blocked my way. It's better not to take risks when visibility becomes terrible, even though I know the route by heart that goes from my home up to the mountain overlooking Domodossola and its entire plain; so, I don’t continue. Not too satisfied with the few kilometers covered, only sixteen in total, I descend back toward my village; a few hundred meters from home, the rain arrives too, out of nowhere, without warning: a violent, icy blow. I don't even stop to take something out of my backpack to protect myself; I want to get wet, I need to purify both body and soul, especially.

I’m at home in the shower... violent... purify... a light, an sudden jolt and they appear to me... like in a dream, with my eyes wide open.

How many times I have praised, I have exalted the God Machine on the site. Dozens and dozens of times, finding comfort in the unconditional support of many of you, especially the guy from Lecco, the good tia.

I come out of the bathroom and in a moment I search on the computer for Home, which the band released shortly after the publication of that masterful auditory monument that was their first album: "Scenes From The Second Storey". I emphasize and confirm: the most important album of all the nineties (always excluding Primus).

Only twenty minutes... but today that's more than enough for me.

It's hard to explain what I feel, how much I enjoy the Music of the three guys from San Diego.

It's hard to find new words to describe the majestic grandeur of their songs. I have already written other reviews, certainly much more detailed.

Unique and unrepeatable: I am banal, I say it myself, in typing these two words. But that's exactly how it is.

There is no comparison because no one has ever played, and will play in the future, with the same dramatic emotional tension.

An effective, distorted, "mature" sound despite the very young age of Robin, Jimmy, and Ronald.

As happens in the title track, the only piece written by the band.

Menacing notes woven by the instruments; a voice that is a sermonic litany. Abrasive and piercing at the end, where the narrative tension rises enormously, close to auditory saturation...

They continue by tearing apart, disassembling to their liking Bauhaus’ "Double Dare". Dark notes, repeated to infinity. A sense of bewilderment, rampant anxiety in listening... But my pleasure is eternal in face of the brazen attack.

There are two other covers where everything becomes clearer, more vivid, bucolic, pure... like the snow I encountered in the morning.

...here I come to the closure of the narrative circle... ALL MY COLOURS...

Ad Maiora.