Uochi Toki
Macchina Da Guerra

At the time of its release, I complained about "Idioti," an album that disappointed me so much that I trashed it with the worst spite. The sound had evolved, but the radical nihilism of the previous works had been smoothed out to become almost soft. The lyrics no longer had bite, they couldn't speak to me anymore. I was devastated, disappointed, angry: that work gave me such negative feelings simply because it came after "Cuore Amore Errore Disintegrazione," the Bible of Italian sonic discomfort. 
Because by now I have an allergy to Italian music. I've long passed the age of 17 and no longer want to hear the random lyrics of Verdena and the like. I'm not shocked by those harmless indie bands that use politics as a tool to make themselves interesting. Let's leave the choked voices of Malike Ayane to housewives. Bachi Da Pietra have lost their edge by now. 

 Contemporary Italian music, for me (excluding Massimo Volume and Zu), only had (has) them left. 

A duo with destructive creativity that releases this untitled vinyl in an ULTRA-MEGA-LIMITED edition. And I approached it with skepticism, of course. But you approach it, because I've never stopped hoping. 

DISORIENTING IMPACT.

How wonderful to hear them again in the sonic violence that made me adore them at first impact. I, who can't stand rap, then! Even though, more than rap, it seems like spoken poetry, sonic narrative, hermetic poetry to me. Their records are audiobooks (and it's no coincidence that a part of their discography is named that): stories, intuitions, phrases thrown among points and commas on white sheets. 
"Macchina Da Guerra" is a return to violent repression, but decupled.

It manages to be almost stronger, more excruciating, and delirious than the second self-titled album. Seven tracks, forty minutes of music where noisy electric saws, beats from the underworld, walls of drone, bursts of phrases shot from the end of the world chase each other. A cacophonous album, completely anti-musical, dirty, pitch-black, and angry to the core.
A change of direction towards the absolute, the risk, the catacombal could already be felt in the excellent EP "Distopi", where a piece suited to their repertoire unraveled into a drone moving like worms.

"Macchina Di Guerra" directly addresses the listener with the intent to beat them, throw them into this cosmic void that does not differ from reality, even if rendered grotesque, unbearable, without solution. Seven slaps from zombies. Each beat is a building that rises and destroys itself. Noise that shapes the surrounding environment. 

Immediately among the albums of the year as far as I'm concerned.