martedì 23 agosto 2011


Maybe a bio, maybe a tale, for sure a recommended reading.
Enter in the Orrenda Acciaieria's world and enjoy!!

Orrenda Acciaieria at work to rip your ears


Just imagine... A thin layer of electromagnetic energy permeating everything in your sight and beyond; imagine the thin layer covering everything and all, even things you can only imagine; imagine the layer ignoring the laws of time and space, responding to unknown physical principles, alien to the concepts of weight and movement. Personally, I don't believe such thing could have existence, and even if it had, how could it be unchanging? Is it possible to go against the heraclitean principle of  perennial flow of everything? I don't believe, I rather think this to be the only certainty: the changing, of all in becoming, even conteplating the existence of states of the matter other than our own... Moreso, so sad and boring is the simple thought of something forever unchanging that, was the existence of such a thing ever scientfically proved, I'd rather be in denial and called an ignorant, sparing myself the martyrdom of imagination and thought such concept would produce in me.

Even the different kinds of steel change over time; before mankind was able to blend the iron with other metals it was necessary to bring the temperatures of  fusion systems to at least 1400 degrees, a feat impossible before the 19th century. I could be wrong , but it seems correct to attribute to the second industrial revolution the worldwide diffusion of steel in the production process. Still, mines of "steely iron" are known and written about since the late medieval period (in Bergamo); a mineral called "azarium" in the documents, steel actually, already impure when mined, and still with physical attributes different from simple iron... In the same way, fortunately, a rock band never stops evolving and shedding skin, keeping some of the old and gaining new ideas, passions, languages.

Yet it was steel already, or maybe steely iron, in the mind of Simon, when playing the guitar was still uncertain, when he was writing riffs that possibly nobody would  ever play or listen to, when those riffs were just a need, a need for wholeness and a satisfaction because they were new, a new take on metal, rock and psychedelic music...On marginalization.

There are people who react to the degraded state of things in these times by closing up; people that do drugs; people who try creating things to look at to make them real; there are those who believe they can give a visible, audible, recognizable form to a general critic to the shallowness to which the human being is lowered (us included), to the stupidity of a society that already smells of old after just a century, a small stupid century where there's nothing new to be seen (scientific stuff aside, but I'm talking about human interest stories), and if there ever was it's been labeled as wrong, unacceptable because destabilizing, undermining of the values (oh what values!) of the "good thought", of the academy and the grocer at the big supermarket... Speaking about the psychedelic revolution of the late 60's here.

So we react as roadrollers, trampling everything we can, dodging what's unmovable with no feeling of defeat, because appearently unmovable things will melt like snow in the sun in the amazing kaleidoscope of the eternal flowing. Why not to give life and vitality to this vison of the planet? And so Simon meets with Moreno, hallucinatin' and hyperlucid painter, forestbound percussionist, enemy to the regular beat... And so the properly called "steels" are born, with moods that have been with us since the first rehearsals, riffs for the showcase, kept under liquid nitrogen for years and then revived fresh as new in the winter of the Annus Domini 2009. But still a bass is needed, not a frozen fish, but an instrument and somebody to play it, to give substance to the newborn stuff, and because the taller the wave, the wider the mouths of the audience open. Then a man was recruited, not for his (lacking) height but for his stature, as Mr Ferrante judged he would be able to naturally understand what was in the making...And so Ste entered the band, sealing the pact with soy spaghetti and a shitload of beer.

What a chore! Getting back to the shredding was hard in the beginning, in the cold of the practice room, rebaptized the "Cowboy's morgue (given both the cold climate and the classy country look of the owner). But still they were great times... It felt like being somwhere out in space when the first scorings started  working, the rythm section started blending in, the first smiles surfaced.

There was a freaky spirit back then, we used to experiment a lot, we let our hands go for hours, and the unbelievable thing is that we listened to each other playing on the same melody and the same shaky rythm section just to re-enter precisely at the next beat...All in all it felt good.

The remaining part is recent history, with a vocal-implementing period with Teo Beast (sounded like litfiba?!) and the arrival of Juri Rossi ( honor to the buzz!). Now everyting's more driven, "speed", aggressive...From here to the first recording the step is close: appreciation received from some friends while exiting the practice room, for both the music and the concept, pushing us forward; I'm speaking about Fede Cosmic Swamp Records, frantically and passionately trying to bring a different kind of culture in the paranoid Brianza... Let's not call it counterculture, we're not against anybody intellectually; it's not about "countering", but about showing how culture and art can be good in many different forms.
Greetings to our friends from Karnae, so ready to shred the audience as kind in their support of our recording project; the guys from the bar sport, our friends Pietro and Moiana, representing the stoner alcoholic province, big hearted people that give without expecting anything in return...We're few, but we love each other and we believe in what we do.

We don't believe in a better world, but we don't want to omologate to this mass of lanky suckers, squeaky bitches and fishy fixers. Fuck you!

Stefano Marangoni, from his dimension, 23-7-2011.

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