This potent work, composed by Alfredo Costa Monteiro “for pickups on turntable”, delivers an impact not dissimilar from Lou Reed’s “Metal machine music”, minus the jangling high frequencies of the guitar strings. The elicited noise is nasty, opulent, utterly saturating, its controlled rumbling intimidating like the eyes of a beast ready to attack; there are neither sense of humour nor ironic twists, just a mass of radioactive turnarounds that don’t even need to let their energy all out to nail you in place while conquering your concentration cells one by one. Yet, “Stylt” also possesses an hypnotic charm, comparable to the raw beauty of some of John Duncan’s work between the late 80s and the 90s; this deadpan look within the hidden caves of self finally gathers what’s left of your brain power, putting it at work to create a positive efficiency. This is probably the best stuff I’ve heard from Costa Monteiro.


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