Sixteen tracks in 21 minutes, loud and tight: that's Remap, debut LP for art punk four piece Volta, from Novara, Italy.
Songs like splinters, splinters of a hammered mirror, still reflecting and vibrating noise, post-hc, screamo (especially their demo ɒ), crushed through fierce drumming, synths, punching bass, and a visceral guitar demanding and controlling chaos, plus, male vocals.
Remap your dance style: do dance over these splinters, bare feet. Somehow they bring me back to Putiferio, Lucertulas and latest Afraid! (hey, no need to cite someone abroad): a different nervation, still, nerves in the same leaf, captured in a restless fall, driven by violent wind swirls. Take 353rd, Super Isovist, particularly dizzying, as well as the 28 (yes, twenty-eight) seconds of Open. Breathlessly fresh, solid and never disappointing in its massive load. Differently, Drive-in Classes take an hypnotic slowdown, the eye of the cyclone.
And that's a saxophone aching in Motown Ed. Fully enjoyable, fully loaded with bitterness. Your daily dose of oxygen.
Songs like splinters, splinters of a hammered mirror, still reflecting and vibrating noise, post-hc, screamo (especially their demo ɒ), crushed through fierce drumming, synths, punching bass, and a visceral guitar demanding and controlling chaos, plus, male vocals.
Remap your dance style: do dance over these splinters, bare feet. Somehow they bring me back to Putiferio, Lucertulas and latest Afraid! (hey, no need to cite someone abroad): a different nervation, still, nerves in the same leaf, captured in a restless fall, driven by violent wind swirls. Take 353rd, Super Isovist, particularly dizzying, as well as the 28 (yes, twenty-eight) seconds of Open. Breathlessly fresh, solid and never disappointing in its massive load. Differently, Drive-in Classes take an hypnotic slowdown, the eye of the cyclone.
And that's a saxophone aching in Motown Ed. Fully enjoyable, fully loaded with bitterness. Your daily dose of oxygen.
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