Ciao a tutti i nightfriends.
Non so quale sia la vostra situazione con l'inglese (il mio, come ho già
detto, è un pò sgangherato ma in fondo comprensibile!), ad ogni modo vi
passo queste due "recensioni" (termine piuttosto riduttivo ma non trovo di
meglio), una riferita al cd di cover ABOB, l'altra al fantastico
Remindlessness di SK. L'autrice è una ragazza brasiliana che si nasconde
sotto il nickname "larc". Se ve la cavate con la lingua, tanto meglio, se
avete qualche difficoltà, armatevi di pazienza e di un dizionario. Vi
assicuro, ne vale la pena. Vorrei leggere più spesso pezzi come questi. Alla
fine della lettura potrete averli apprezzati, o magari potrete essere in
disaccordo. Forse potranno anche non piacervi, ma di una cosa potete essere
certi: non sarà stata una perdita di tempo. Fate sapere.

Steffi


A Box Of Impressions And Polaroids Of The Past


Take a slow succumbing dive in warm solitude. Sometimes life
is just a stream of sounds. Let the birds sing outside while
the last strains of "Cortez The Killer" leaves you in languid
silence. Mon amour aches on the floor. You lick the salt of
your tears and squeeze your arms against the chest to freeze
the time. Intense keyboards scream in an empty space. Magic
is what lasts 'cause it's ephemeral and seems to be immortal.
His voice is smooth, imprisons the soft and mournful throats
of the birds. Their guitars even closer and entwined soar the
room's opaque limits. Sour verses tell of her decadence, then
you jump in her endless sea to meet a riding porpoise,
laughing and waiting. Forever in a midsummer dusk. Rescued by
a generous dawn - the benefit of an eternal promise. The
promise of a perfect morning which climbs the streets,
emerging from the smoky asphalt.
Repeat "Hiroshima's" lyrics till your throat fades and your
blood freezes. Steve's desire for polaroids hidden among the
debris is there. "Hiroshima Mon Amour" is like a haunted
train, passing by like a fast caressing wind in your hair. It
comes after "It's All Too Much" delicate bliss, rocked by
clapping hands. And when "Hiroshima" leads you to "Porpoise
Song", you sense for the first time that your box is opening.
The song invites you to say goodbye to your hopes and
sorrows. Both are misplaced in this pallid skyline confined
in the shattered glass of your window. "Porpoise Song" is a
sweet symphony of loud guitars adorned by a deep sea-blue
voice. From an unknown height falls "Decadence" with its
subtle repetitiveness. Marlene's sensual suicide declaimed
again and again and again and again... remote tinges of
sadness. Once again, the sensual sadness of The Church. Tim's
grandiose drums break your numbness. Peter's and Marty's
guitars reached dizzy heights. It's time to wander through
oceans of forgetfulness. "Endless Sea" is your company.
Then "Friction" introduces its vigorous muscles and bones.
It's a perfectly sculpted body blowing away "Endless Sea's"
dramatic soul. "All The Young Dudes" pour out the young's
heart which refuses to grow old. A cold metallic effect in
the chorus begs you to stand up while some of you is still
alive inside the song. You're not lying in the floor anymore
so you can dance to "Silver Machine", an extravagant jewel in
your stereo. To end up in the arms of the killer's shore. An
eternity in ten minutes. Yet a life to experience. The melody
comes and goes and you lose yourself in this whirlwind of
memories and chords. Suddenly you've lost your language, your
territory, your childhood, your father. Collecting buildings
without walls, walking through the corridors of time. All
your own boundaries are now invisible so enjoy this temporary
blindness. You can wander further evermore.
This is not anyone's music. This is not a random or conscious
choice. This is The Church. It's not meant to be understood,
but to be embraced. It's an amalgam of polished gems. It's a
borrowed collection of songs where The Church put its unique
essence.

Let The Church present their polaroids of the past. If you
can't believe in the nature of pictures with their borrowed
landscapes, then all you can do is listen to this adorable
pack of lies. Try it in the dawn.

larc.


Author Topic: Life's Little Luxuries - A Remindlessness
Review by Larc
Dave Barnard
Pharoah posted 06 February 2000 11:51
--------------------------------------------------------------
------------------
The following review of Remindlessness is a stunning analysis
of what many feel is Steve Kilbey's ultimate solo work. Enjoy!
***************************************
The first lesson about Remindlessness is that it contains a
new Steve Kilbey. Even more harsh and honest than in the pair
Earthed/Unearthed, his first solo works. This harshness isn't
about lyricism, but it's eloquent in the songs melodic
structures. Drum machines are loudest, acoustic guitars are
stronger, the voice is risking screaming tones, the recording
is propitiating a dusty scenario where caravans of camels
take you to a trip through eastern deserts. But, don't
mistake this dusty scenario for a dusty atmosphere. Violins
and soft strings are "more like vapour than smoke, more like
haze than fire", stealing Steve's words from
Remindlessness "liner notes". Subtle elements design watery
strategic pauses. And they are effective while they are there
only to suggest, never to evidence. This is the concept of
Remindlessness: a faded and obscured memory, a distant
mourning, lost natives, half sounds, woman-like textures. So,
they vanish among the smoke of the hills. A granulated
picture of life. The fear of liquid

Three notable exceptions in the record, bring a
certain "Earthed feel". Some sad piano pieces appear in the
operatic instrumental "Gloriana". A glorious epiphany that
reminds you of Remote Luxury era. "Excerpt From 'Charlotte's
Bay Pde.'" has lazy acoustic guitar scratching the surface in
a "Pretty Ugly, Pretty Sad" and "Othertime" tradition, but it
fails to be just a vignette, an idea which refused to develop
and arise perfectly. And finally, the solemn second part
for "Celebration of The Birthday of The Elephant God", where
the aim of Remindlessness emerges in its highest peak, in its
splendid final form. If there exists some "immaterial world",
opposite to a life proclaimed in "no such thing" style, it's
resting in "Celebration..." A melody to drift inside and
forget, forget. A tiny sample of Steve's monstrous capacity
of filling up a hopeless soul. Although it is made through
the conscience of emptiness and forgetfulness. The elixir has
the right measure of poison. A brief life to taste is a
permanent death, everyday.

In a chronological disposition, it seems clear that
Remindlessness is a moment of rupture. The first effort after
Starfish, the record that summarises the 80's
sonority/aesthetic. The step before Gold Afternoon Fix.

Not a mixture of past and future, not a transition. Just a
break. "Famine", the incredible Unearthed's ending song is
the last word from a time. But it simultaneously presents the
plastic instrumental directions of Earthed, with a
strangeness that prevents it from being grandiose and
eloquent like "Film" from Priest=Aura, bringing a sense of
terrestrial composition; and the almost transcending spirit
residing in keyboards and space sounds, opposite and
complementary to dry percussions, omnipresent in Earthed and
instrumental pieces from Unearthed. Drawing this limit of
transition, we reach the state of things established by
Remindlessness, an ambitious piece. The consolidation of a
non-pop, anti-pop purpose. The purpose that will start to
throb in Gold Afternoon Fix through songs
like "Pharoah", "Terra Nova Cain" and "Grind", and will shine
and pervade 92's Priest=Aura - the point where The Church
begins to leave the grand schemes of major record labels.

Remindlessness has the example of "Music From Commercial For
Eternity Inc." It cannot be fitted in Earthed or Unearthed.
It is climbing much higher. With the spark of something new.
And revolving. It is still melancholic, but it isn't at
random, it isn't soft and cast aside like delicate tunes such
as "Remote Luxury" and "Happy Hunting Ground" (a percussion
incessant beat, never defined) or the super-mentioned Earthed
ones. It wants to go beyond a placid room. It wants to soar,
never to be tied to Earth. This will be also the direction
for The Church. This will be proved in Narcosis and Gilt
Trip.

If Steve tried to reach a "non-pop stage" before with The
Church and his own projects, it was loose. With
Remindlessness it is complete. What a lot of people can
call "exotic", it's only a blow of life beyond weary canons
of trivial rock n' roll formulas. It's at least ironic that
SK chooses this record to put out a manifest against non-
empirical beliefs. Among verses like: "there's no such thing
as *remindlessness*/there's no such thing as soul/there's no
such thing as love/there's no such thing as coming back", he
casts the exact stone: "there's no such thing as rock n'
roll". An institution that was beginning to crumble. And this
magnificent author of shellfish songs is one of the
characters who will help to dissolve the institution. The
record that helps to dissolve everything around is the same
where it's written "I live in the solid world". The world of
solid canons and rules. Deconstructed by amphibians and
liquid languid lovers. "No Such Thing" looks like a brilliant
satire from an artist who was always accused
of "aural/metaphysical pretensions", something that can't
survive in rock n' roll.

Remindlessness is the first departure sign. It's ok. If he
can't be more than about fast cars and groupies inside rock
n' roll/pop boundaries, he stains and blurs these boundaries.
And when you listen to Remindlessness, these boundaries seem
so stupid that there's no chance left to radio dials.

Violinda takes you by the hand while he shouts a list of
mundane pleasures in "Life's Little Luxuries";the song from
a "commercial" leads you to Eternity Inc., an enterprise
where poetic transactions are arranged with a pre-fixed price
(any guesses to mentions of phonographic industry?); the
characters and places, Isadoras, Danielles, Charlottes and
Africas, Indias, Ganges move in a sound screen, meeting life
outside the ears. The rupture isn't made without a personal
thought, a confession, a commitment. It's clear that Steve
announces a time of both unfettering (to go through new
aspects of music) and bitter irony in face of well-known
chains. Impossible to have "a million of dollars with no
strings attached"...

I'm not concerned about it. I'll drink more than I should.
I'll dive and experience the depth, mocking this life of
beer, sport and music for sport. I'll pretend we're safe when
we're not in the surface. Now that we've learnt all about
amnesia and total control of conscience and reason (in this
world of extremes), we'll learn about half-memory and buried
secrets. Remindlessness: a life's little luxury of losing
ground.
Larc.


[This message has been edited by Dave Barnard (edited 06
February 2000).]









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