SYMPHONY FOR A GENOCIDE

Still within the confines of the boot shaped country, this review does however take a huge u-turn musically and goes from the prodigal rock fires of classic RPI, to the eroding harshness of electronic pioneer Maurizio Bianchi. His 1981 release Symphony for a Genocide has become quite the cult artefact these days, and whether by way of it's unfriendly jaggedy appearance or indeed for its reputation for being the progressive electronic album equivalent to Trout Mask Replica, it continues to remain a highly sought out item among the more mad electrolytes. The two albums obviously bear no resemblance to each other whatsoever, but there's a deliberate insanity and impossibly difficult aura surrounding both, which has most music writers pulling out their teeth - talking about anti-music and the emperor's new clothes.

I am very open to experiments, also the completely bonkers ones, but in order for me to really get into them, there needs to be some form of soul or passion behind. So naturally when Maurizio Bianchi decided to refrain from any such qualities in order to relegate the grim fear and purgatorial evil of the death camps of W.W.ll, I find myself equally mystified by the complete lack of melody and concord, and the fact that nothing on the album seems even remotely listenable.

Sounding like a soundtrack to an industrious slaughterhouse with cold robotic machine noises, Symphony for a Genocide does succeed in its quest for authentic apocalyptic music. It almost supersedes it's goal. To me personally, this album is far better on recollection. The more time that passes between each listen of it, the more strangely enamoured with the very idea behind the album I seem to get - an idea that rivals even the most frightening of war museums in terms of portraying the unthinkable horror of the holocaust. Then I put the album on and reach halfway, before my brain thirsts for feel.....

The synths on this colossus of a record are uniquely ugly. That's the first thing you'll probably pick up on. Without a milligram of melody they sound like old arcade games music gone berserk. Corroding, slicing, pulverising their way through your speakers the sheer impact of them will either have you nurturing strange erotic thoughts about skips and large oil tankers, or perhaps more likely make your skin crawl.

On the other hand, you have to give Bianchi credit for having the balls to release this thing. While there'd been a number of abstract personalities on the progressive electronic scene, Maurizio took what Conrad Schnitzler flirted around with in an embryonic phase and cultivated it, or indeed tortured the hell out of it, subsequently coming up with this horrific industrial voyage through one of mankind's darkest chapters.

So there you have it: one of the most unique, unlistenable and memorable records ever made. I am thrilled to have it in my collection, don't get me wrong - while I detest the music, I adore the notion of having physical remnants of the outer extremities of the forever winding age old music tree.

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