Uzeda
Different Section Wires

Besides, in my opinion, having the best cuisine in the world and an effective realization of the Agora, and still a wonderful and total nature, Trinacria, bearing its burden of being directly a triangle, produces the quintessential noise group (which in turn produces this definitive work) with a nonchalance that annihilates everyone, primarily Steve Albini and John Peel.

Total agitation from the "foreigners" who unconsciously grasp that resolutive element of a life of "recherche" to find the "lost" noise that blooms into a definitive adoration. The Mediterranean air, that's what our Western brothers lack, air still pregnant with the passing of Carthaginian ships, elephants in tow included, and the Roman fleet in the horror of that no-return journey: "Carthago delenda est." The "door" Uzeda opens towards the sea, after all.

The ancient sea vomits back all the movements of the flow of bloody history, transforming them into a sophisticated cynical forgiveness through the electric hum of pineals connected with chaos.
And when a little group of young men manages to depersonalize chaos in this way, we can do nothing but "kiss their hands" at the reflection of past moments when once, together, we managed to raise the blocks of the pyramids with thought.

The "toccata and fuga" of less than half an hour by the Catanesi spares us permanent psychic damage in showcasing all that jazz. The lava outpouring that accompanies the magma of Etna is compassionate in stopping a centimeter from our feet, it singes the toenail of our big toe and launches us into a noise revisionism finally endowed with an impersonal Baroque. The surgical precision in the inner excavation with (rock) invasive instruments is exhilarating in observing the speed of the soul's growth that accelerates the listening of these expanded sounds. Let's imagine Archimedes, of these airs immersed in the tub, rightly exclaiming his "EUREKA"!

And so sincerely written by the authors that the CD is "Dedicated to those who struggle to preserve the right to be themselves." A time machine of past reincarnations awakens and projects us into battlefields, disputes, external and internal duels, tending, with the utmost mess of eternity, towards disappearance. Giovanna Cacciola's singing reflects a languid Sphinx that petrifies at times with absent, yet effective accelerations in awakening that underground part, outside the "cave," of our soul. Davide Oliveri, Raffaele Gulisano, Agostino Tilotta give the definitive "GO" to these sacred blasts of aphrodisiac libation nectar in stimulating pursuits of "knowledge."

And we swallow, we swallow everything with a reverberation that tickles on the incisors the millennial vibration of the scar of our cleft lip. Essentially a dense invisibility of flashes that recall solar explosions that we fortunately feel tanning, but that in return destabilize us for the best, guiding us on the "straight path" without the aid of protective creams.

The cosmic projection is skinning in communicating truths, far from silent dumbing meditations, an open well intoxicates us with alien effluvia. An impersonal noise resides here, not derived from personal devastations of bloody initiatory conflicts of the body with life. The semblance of affinity with New York gangs is a consolation in mystifying comparisons.

In its depersonalization there is the Holy Spirit of a noise that tends to the Beyond where the actual surrender does not rest on any pursuit of monetization but follows a logical vagabondage that shows us the way for abandonments to an effective growth of omniscient projections. A "refreshing" citron is served. "Ten Stars," of course...