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Rating: In the entry: Total Post-Rock.
Forget every conventional melodic conception. Forget every homogeneous musical structure. No chorus, no verses, no bridges: the chorus is to Trans Am what the crucifix is to Count Dracula. Never look back, always launch beyond. Abandon every certainty, you who listen. Conceptual and musical extremism. Apologia of experimentation, beyond every limit. Beyond every boundary, beyond every genre.
Beyond Kraftwerk ("I want it all", "Polizei", satanic robot dances on the brink of collapse, relentless and alien rhythms; if it were a movie, it would be "Blade Runner"). Beyond Neu! (the diagonal pulsating of "Play in the summer", with its frenetic rhythm of hysterical guitars, an orgy of sweat and laughter, if it were a planet, it would be unknown). Beyond Tortoise, beyond minimal electronics and its vomited masturbations on obtuse and pretentious loafers (the asymmetric circularities of "Getting very nervous", in its tangling up on itself, in its unraveling into a thousand opposite directions, in its being, in the same instant, oxymoron and coherence, glare and darkness; if it were a movie, it would be "Citizen Kane"). Beyond Godspeed you! Black Emperor, when the structures unravel and the horizon unfolds in sight ("Lunar Landing", a mobile sob of sounds and moods, experimentation taken to the extreme, endless debate between being and becoming; if it were a sport, it would be launching to the Moon on a four-man bob).
Forget your lounge-bar chats, here there are no discussions, only screams exchanged in the cold of night. Forget your middle-class comfortable lives, if all of this were a book, it would be "1984", and you will feel the diabolical eyes of Big Brother watching over your ostentatious securities. Forget every glimmer of positive pulses, because if it were a book, it would be "The Devils" by Dostoevsky, and then better a painful life than a happiness for peanuts. No distance, no boundary.
Beyond Africa (the tribal drums of "Diabolical cracker" and "Bad cat", the most visionary Peter Gabriel sits on a desert expanse and smokes opium with the natives, the world is too small for certain minds, if it were a poem, it would be Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" and Barrett's Pink Floyd reciting it). Beyond Europe and the ocean, beyond the Earth itself (the alien synthesizers of "Village in bubble", the sluggish and inhuman voice appearing between the lines, the electroclash rooted flights of "Ragged agenda"). Beyond any possible imagination, beyond fashions and winds ("The dark gift", with its acoustic start soon assaulted by a funky rhythm, before peace returns the dub ending kills every ambition of mental rest). Beyond the fathers so that the children do not die in their shadow, beyond life and death itself, so that great ideas are immortal. Beyond thirst and hunger because you will feed on sounds; beyond your sickly feelings because you will live on cold steel liquids.
Forget your nighttime musings, this is not music to sleep. Forget your certainties and your very doubts, here there is no solution, nothing is right, and nothing is wrong. Forget brotherhood and unity, here you will be alone with yourself; forget parties, cybernetic ghosts do not take dance lessons. Forget everything you have heard, close your eyes, reopen them and start living anew. After "Red Line" came "T.A.", and it was a disaster. Before "Red Line" there were two seminal works, and they were a disaster. Now, I know which of these albums will be read by your players, and whatever happens, abandon every certainty you who listen.
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