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My friend Roberto is a huge guy. He runs a musical instrument store in Santarcangelo di Romagna. I admire his courage, displaying guitars with the price in a Romagnolo town where the old cling to traditions and the young to easy money. But he keeps going. When I enter his store, usually, it's not to spend thousands of euros but to buy strings, picks, and the like. And as soon as I walk in, he proudly shows off his latest musical discoveries. "Check this out," he says to me one day as soon as I enter the store. And he plays a version of "Ballad Of A Thin Man" by Dylan I've never heard before. A guitar with an archaic sound, as if coming from the sonic underworld of places rarely visited by respectable people, a drunken and sickly pace, something that gets inside you and doesn't let go.
The voice reminds me of Nick Cave at his best, it's been a long time since I felt such a warm sentiment. I struggle to maintain a neutral stance, and Roberto notices that my eyes betray hidden emotion "tough, huh?" and I reply "whoooo are they?!" He puffs up a bit, already quite naturally, "Willard Grant Conspiracy, they're on their sixth album, and you can be sure you'll never see them on Top of the Pops." In the following days, the obsession with that song grows, like a bacteria in my body. I manage to find the album. And I'm glad to discover that this band led by Terence Fisher features the illustrious collaboration of Steve Wynn, Jason Victor, and the splendid Linda Pitman, active members of Miracle 3 of Wynn himself.
The album unfolds between desolate ballads (Dance with me, From a distant shore, Skeleton, Mary of the angels) and abrasive electric moments (Let it roll, Crush, Breach). The album reveals a condensed version of coarse sonic sincerity (and Steve Wynn's contribution is evident) with chiaroscuro atmospheres borrowed from the visionary plots of Nick Cave and his Bad Seeds. Almost a masterpiece.
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