HOW TO CURE OUR SOUL – Mare

Sequel

Should anyone think that I’ve completely lost it, perhaps convinced that every record reviewed here from yesterday on is titled Mare, hold your horses: I just took the opportunity to consecutively tackle two projects involuntarily linked by the same word. Also of interest is the imprint’s denomination, suggesting a continuance between the two writeups.

Kidding aside, it must be noted that How To Cure Our Soul’s Mare was released almost in synchrony with Kurt Liedwart’s – another reason to talk about it, too – even if the sonic coordinates are rather different. For the occasion, Marco Marzuoli and Alessandro Sergente were joined by Rossano Polidoro (of TU M’ renown) in a mesmerizing reflection somehow anticipated by the Jules Verne quote (needless to say, from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea) welcoming the potential listener/reviewer on the introductory notes.

It’s a straightforward yet compelling album, lasting circa 32 minutes. A long silence to begin with; then, the placidity conveyed by the marine wash, so intimately familiar to those grown up with the sea’s endless teachings. After a while the stratification of frozen guitars and tape loops enters the scene to improve the organization of reclusiveness. At first quite gently, subsequently increasing its strength, the massive current pushes us towards a realm where nobody will be harshly insulted if a “Frippertronics vs Phill Niblock” comparison is brought out for lack of better explanations. Little by little the electric constituents start disappearing: the waters and the stillness hint at a conclusive adieu, an implied symbolism for a life’s cycle.

Ultimately, this is a classic case of “less is more”: a definite concept of incalculable vastity rendered with, so to speak, authoritative modesty. If all existences are rivers, remember what Pete Townshend used to sing way back in 1981: the sea refuses no river.

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