LP REVIEW JOHNNY TRUANT 1. I AM THE PRIMOTOLOGIST,
www.johnnytruant.co.uk
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Right from the beginning, the room is dark... very dark. As the ceremonial button known as PLAY> is depressed, the darkness suddenly becomes intensified with an immediate blast of screams and wailing guitar. A glow comes from the speakers as the sacrament begins… This is not an experience for the weak, for they will definitely perish. An element of depravity may well be the best safeguard, if one wishes to make it all the way. You see, here lays a cauldron of sounds that have been insanely concocted and which forms a creature very rarely encountered. The beast of death has been summoned, while at the same time the wraith of noisecore scowls furiously to the foreground demanding respect and attention. About them both, there are the angels of melody whom stand uncomfortably with the menacing figure of brutality, but both are united in a volatile intensity. But it doesn’t end there, for it is the acts that unfold which indelibly mark one for ever. There are seven episodes that are constructed through immoral depths of ingenuity, layers of textured noise that exhibits all the forbidden qualities of being original, creative, inventive and imaginative. There even features one that is without words. They are assembled into an entirety that will without doubt frighten the faithless but at the same time welcome many new believers into the fold. The speakers are now full of luminosity, molten from the intensive violence that has been reaped. Although enjoying the added light, it has somehow become even darker and the temperature could be considered as cold. It’s then that the reality and magnitude of the occasion is realised, for this has been a sharing with something very special. The beacon from a United Kingdom that lays down a mark for other States, be they United or not, and an easy claim for the finest performance of this annual period. There is distant laughter, a flash of red from a silhouetted figure, silent whispers and the dark turns to black. Only the illuminated figures of 48:52 can be seen in the distance and there’s the overwhelming need to depress that ceremonial button once again… Rigsby (9th November, 2002) |
