Tigran Hamasyan
Mockroot

The fact is that all the people of this civilized world go to the bathroom, take a dump, grab toilet paper or newspaper or a plant's leaf and wipe their ass. The ones who make a difference are those who, after this operation, turn on the faucet and wash their hands.

Nowadays everyone makes music, some better, some worse, but the operations are always the same: digital consoles are installed on any computer, you get a little practice and produce records in a flash with a few bucks. So who makes the difference? The difference is made by those who complete the operation with mastering and quality editing and you can tell, damn if you can tell.

Recently, I had the chance to listen to "Mockroot," an album reaching the peaks of Tigran Hamasyan's career: listening to such sound quality, a clarity of instruments that allows you to distinguish every gesture, every musical intention, every fragment of note, is a rare and enjoyable thing.

I recommend this album to you because Hamasyan, a great pianist of Armenian origin, now transplanted in the USA, with this work has broken down the fence that saw him as a jazz musician with rock twists. Here he unleashes dark and uncompromising metal, sometimes in line with Tool, pure magmatic lava with sharp arrows of Zeuhl, disjointed madness that refers to Zorn and Zappa, jazz of experimental and libertine manufacture, and folk cut diagonally by world music instincts.

And I won't say more because you need to discover this genius of Hamasyan yourself.