Tweaker
2 A.M. Wakeup Call

Tweaker is the moniker behind which Chris Vrenna hides, drummer of the Nine Inch Nails until 1996 (one of the group's founders), and, as a solo artist, the author of some good albums and many collaborations. His "2 A.M. Wakeup Call" is heavily influenced by the industrial of NIN, but this is just one of the many sources of inspiration for the brilliant artist. In this work, there are indeed echoes of dark wave, Depeche Mode, a certain dark and minimal folk, and pitch-black trip hop.

The album can be viewed as a concept dedicated to the dreams/nightmares generated by the night, when people sleep and life outside takes on slightly different connotations, which immediately disappear at the first light of dawn. The work arises from the sleepless nights of Chris's wife, who routinely got up at two in the grip of insomnia, waking her husband as well. Unable to go back to sleep, Vrenna began jotting down the inspirations that came to mind immediately after the interrupted sleep, which might have been dreamlike. The result is these excellent twelve tracks, in which the musician collaborates (not always and only in singing) with other artists: Sylvian, Robert Smith (Cure), Clint Walsh (Juliette Lewis), and others. The general mood, as you can guess, is nocturnal and dreamy, at times tenebrous, other times more melancholic because it's tied to old and sweet memories.

Will Oldham opens with the beautiful "Ruby", a rock track that crescendos from an arpeggiated beginning to an explosive and corrosive chorus. Industrial inserts crown a beautiful piece in which the singer's voice plays the leading role, very evocative in both the whispered and recited parts, a beautiful dark maelstrom that very much recalls those dreams that suddenly turn into nightmares, without a clear continuity.

The instrumental "Cauterized" is a child of the more intimate part of NIN, so surreal and expressive in its relentless and cold progress. The ballad "Worse Than Yesterday" is another evocative track, which I would almost define as contemplative given the overall pathos it exudes. The calm of the night, the cars slowly passing through the streets, a few passersby running home alone, these are the images evoked by this piece.

The latest Cure emerges from a mire of strange and twisted nightmares, summoned by the unmistakable voice of Robert Smith in "Truth Is". A dark and neurotic electronic base is framed by acidic guitars, which gladly flow into more placid acoustic inserts but only for short durations. "Pure Genius", with the wonderful David Sylvian, seems to mark the slow passage of time, animated by a base repeated to the point of exhaustion over which the singer's evocative voice writhes. A kind of dark trip hop, occasionally slashed by electric razors, that recreates well the fragmented world of dreams, where everything and nothing makes sense.

After a few pieces that are more typically industrial (some of them also very atmospheric, like "2 AM"), we arrive at "Sleepwalking Away". A track undoubtedly born of a certain gloomy and noisy rock, essentially marked by beautiful keyboard parts (which pulse like flashing lights in deep darkness), powerful and massive guitars with a swirling pace, at times even a tribal drumming, and a scratchy and anguished voice. A strange, fascinating, and in some ways alienating song.

Then we come to the final two pieces, two little gems that surely enrich the album with an intimate and melancholic component that has been missing so far. "The House I Grew Up In" is a touching instrumental with sepia tones, powerful in evoking the tranquility of the house in which we grew up, large rooms for a little child discovering everything, who is amazed and fascinated by the dust filtering through the half-closed shutters, made visible by the warm light of the setting sun. A phenomenal parade of old and faded photos, an incredible piece that can create a warm and reassuring atmosphere.

Its perfect opposite is "Crude Sunlight". The warmth of childhood memories has given way to painful nightmares, in which the walls of the room, once white and pristine, have suddenly become gray, peeled, and cracked. The shutters are broken, no longer filtering the sun but surrounded by darkness. The child is alone, lost in a room that has suddenly aged, far from being the safe and reassuring place it once was. Strange presences, eyes peeking from holes in the wall, a cold felt around, and no one to offer comfort. The splendid and spectral voice of Jennifer Charles suggests these and other dark images belonging to the realm of those perhaps most terrible nightmares, in which our certainties, even the most deeply rooted ones, are destroyed with a mere glance. Fortunately, these are just bad dreams, and dawn will be our lifeline, even if the awakening will surely be abrupt, leaving us somehow disturbed and marked.

An excellent album made for those who love sounds tinged with electronics and appreciate the nocturnal, disturbing, cryptic and enigmatic tones that only dreams and the night can bring us.