Kotiomkin - Italian '70s Cinephilia Between Stoner and Doom

The Abruzzo-based band Kotiomkin was born from a deep passion for Italian genre cinema of the 1970s, a period that produced aesthetically groundbreaking films, totally on a collision course both with the mainstream of the time and with the more or less politicized intellectual cinema of the era. Initially formed as a trio – with Enzo P. Zeder (bass), Davide Di Biagio (guitar) and Gianni Narcisi (drums) – they set out to create instrumental soundtracks for non-existent films, complete with invented storylines in the liner notes, drawing on the classic soundtracks of the era but reworking them with the violence of the most modern stoner sound, pushing all the way to the edges of doom. It's the rediscovery of a world that never really ended, whether that of the poliziottesco, the spaghetti western or the horror film – a world celebrated here also through its extraordinary soundtracks, by masters such as Ennio Morricone and Franco Micalizzi, right up to bands like Goblin, Osanna and many others. A rediscovery that, paradoxically, began in the United States, thanks to the success and name-dropping of Quentin Tarantino, and continued a few years later with Calibro 35, who managed to refresh the memory of that fantastic artistic season, of a cinema forever balanced between art and trash, between sublimation and vulgarity, constantly oscillating between high and low, between avant-garde and self-parody. The fundamental difference with Calibro 35 – whose references are more calligraphic and closer to the original poliziottesco soundtracks of the era – lies in Kotiomkin's choice to tackle a stoner version, harsh and compact, of the music from Italy's less conventional cinema. Kotiomkin don't look specifically at the poliziottesco but at even more niche genres, ranging from Joe D'Amato's erotic-thriller films (the director to whom the album is dedicated), to the most extreme subgenres such as cannibal, world cinema or sexploitation, right up to the more familiar comedy genre; all delivered with a violence of sound unknown to Italian B-movies.

Their debut dates back to 2014, with the album bearing the telling title Maciste nell'inferno dei morti viventi, which references both the typically Italian films straddling comedy, pseudo-history and pseudo-mythology that were in vogue in the 60s, and the horror films that – starting with George A. Romero's landmark 1968 debut (“Night of the Living Dead”) – had also spawned a long line of Italian imitators, from the genre's best-known names, Lamberto Bava ("Demoni" – 1985), Lucio Fulci ("Paura nella città dei morti viventi" – 1980) and Marino Girolami ("Zombi Holocaust" – 1980), right up to the celebrated director Pupi Avati ("Zeder" – 1983). The debut is steeped in stoner violence and riffs bordering on metal, probably the most primitive and savage work of their career. "Jungla Cannibale", "Maciste" or "Petrus il filibustiere" (the standout track) are closer to Black Sabbath than to an actual soundtrack, while "Peplum Holocaust", "Aderbale" or "Airavata" slow the pace without losing any of the violent charge, moving into full doom territory. It's a powerful, direct LP that reveals a burning desire to make a mark on the Italian music scene.

Two years pass, and they start inserting short audio clips from 70s films at the beginning or end of tracks; they release Squartami tutta (2016), notable among other things for its gorgeous cover featuring Black Emanuelle, the protagonist of about a dozen films, nearly all of them directed by Joe D'Amato. We find her again in the frenetically paced track "Emanuelle: fotoreporter disinibita" – which opens with a dialogue taken from one of the films in which Emanuelle presents herself as a free, dominant woman, and ends with her screaming "Fottimi cannibale! Fottimi!". We find her once more in the mighty "Black Emanuelle Goes To Hell", in the slower but monolithic "Orgia rituale", in the nine minutes of electronic-tinged "El Queso Del Diablo", or in the doom rhythms of "Il simbolo di Kito".

As if it were an "intruder," there's also room for a reference to Fantozzi; "Delitto all'Ippopotamo" evokes both the poliziottesco genre and comedy, recalling the hilarious scene in "Il Secondo Tragico Fantozzi", in which surveyor Calboni, together with Fantozzi and Filini, orders "three scotches" at the bar called "L'Ippopotamo". Despite all the referencing, Kotiomkin's music always remains engaging and relevant.

After the second album, guitarist Davide Di Biagio leaves the band. For a group with its ambitions, his departure could have been either the swan song or the reason to change course and relaunch in a different way. Fortunately, thanks to the determination of bassist Enzo P. Zeder and drummer Gianni Narcisi, they returned in 2018 with Lo albicocco dal curaro. It can't have been easy for Zeder to become the linchpin of a sound that, despite lacking the energy of the electric guitar, manages – thanks to technical improvement and the addition of the synthesizer – to remain credible and engaging, capturing the atmospheres of 70s Italian genre cinema, with heavy doses of stoner violence paired with a typically Italian sense of irony (note the title, which references the scene from the first Fantozzi film in which Italy's most famous accountant is forced to chase Countess Serbelloni Mazzanti Vien dal Mare on a train to tell her the name of the killer in the mystery novel "L'albicocco al curaro").

The disappearance of the guitar is therefore not the end of the road for Kotiomkin, but rather a new beginning, forcing Zeder to search for new solutions, which emerge for example in the ten minutes of "Vilan Chesserton", with its slow post-rock pace that strongly recalls some tracks by Mogwai, before gaining power in the second part and closing with a third section where Zeder builds dark atmospheres with the synthesizer. The closing track, "Satanasso 'protettore' delle donne", is likewise overflowing with synths, before building to the classic stoner outburst and ending in a brief synth loop. There's an amusing idea at play here: the creation of an imaginary soundtrack for a film somewhere between giallo and horror, set in the medieval world of Boccaccio's Decameron (hence the subtitle "Decameron 666"), featuring murders ("Fatal Commestio"), journeys to Hell ("Sexy Averno") and convent scenes recalling the tales of Pietro Aretino ("Metti lo diavolo ne lo convento").

In 2023 Kotiomkin returned with Le Casalingue (The Satanic Rites Of Cobram), an LP that's a clone of the previous ones but with a few differences. Overall, the biggest difference compared to earlier work is a reduced aggressiveness in favor of more refined, elaborate songwriting, which is fairly evident in the twelve minutes of "Una messa per Cobram" – which, while following the band's typical blueprint (audio clips from period films followed by the music), shows greater variety, with sudden speed-ups and slow-downs and a use of synth that almost outweighs the bass.

"Morte sospetta del Compagno Folagra" is an ironic blend of two of the most popular genres of the 1970s: comedy, with the famous pro-Soviet character who's friends with Fantozzi, and the poliziottesco. Once again there's something different here, as the usual near-stoner bass distortions and vintage synths are joined by slower passages recalling post-rock sounds. Once again, the Abruzzo-based band manages to combine their fascination with the past, the true cornerstone of their music, while still retaining a real capacity for variation in pursuit of their own personal sound.

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