Dissonanze

"Dissonanze" once again insists on and reclaims its status as the most important electronic music festival in Italy. This year's line-up also boasts some big names, even if it perhaps lacks the glamour of a Miss Kittin (as in the 2003 edition), but looking closely - and listening closely - over the two nights, there was absolutely no need for eye candy that promised more than it delivered, and the artists on the bill were thoroughly respectable. Let's start by talking about the venue hosting the festival, the Palazzo dei Congressi at the Eur: anyone who knows it is already aware that it's one of the finest buildings of the Fascist-era style in Rome, functional and rational to the point of escaping the excess of rhetoric found in other buildings in the district designed for the 1942 Universal Exposition. And so this structure, which even today seems to belong to no particular era, nor to any man of any particular era, proves perfectly suited to the context and ideal for amplifying the meaning of the music being played.

Three spaces, three different modes of expression: in the main hall, with its very high vaulted ceilings, like the whole building, dance-oriented music was set up; then there was a screening room for videos and short films, with music suited to the theme; and then there was the terrace, where musicians closer to experimentation performed. The nice thing is that the building's terrace isn't at the top, but halfway up, and one of the walls of the main hall served as a screen for the projections that often accompanied the musicians' performances. Since everything happened simultaneously, sacrifices obviously had to be made, and I'll say straight away that I favoured the terrace on both nights, mainly because that kind of music interested me more, and also because the cool of the Roman evening was a strong draw. As everyone knows, these events attract friends and acquaintances from all over Italy, and so a string of greetings and drinks meant I arrived at the opening rather guiltily late, and on Friday I missed one of the artists I was most looking forward to, Richard Devine, as well as Olivia Block.

Luckily most of the artists performed on both evenings, so I was able to enjoy them the following night. Friday evening, in any case, the quality of the music on offer on the terrace was extremely high: Von Hauswolff, Yasunao Tone and Maryanne Amacher stood out above all. Their powerful, layered, circular music, in the context of the terrace and aided by projections from various sound designers - now abstract, now geometric or chaotic - gained in solemnity and allure. Christian Vogel was also excellent with his deconstructed avant-techno, while Karkowski, after a spat with the organisers over reasons unknown to us, rounded off the outdoor bill with another sonic assault.

Heading downstairs, I learn that Lory D's set received widespread praise and enthusiasm, and that I'd missed a memorable DJ set: then again, it was to be expected - here the Roman DJ is the host, and he knows how to carry himself like a latter-day Augustus in this building designed for an empire, and so he rightfully claimed the laurel of emperor of the night. By the time I arrived, though, Koze was on, playing excellent techno well suited to getting the backsides of those who'd committed to the dancefloor moving. Rather tired, I couldn't manage to stay for Dave Clark and preferred to save my energy for the second night, for which I was firmly resolved not to miss Richard Devine: glancing at the schedule, he was one of the last to perform on the terrace, so I could finally enjoy an entire set - the much-anticipated one from Sleeparchive, a guy who has certainly produced one of the most interesting techno albums of the year, a quality he absolutely confirmed on this Roman evening.

After dancing my fill, I feel the need to head back to the terrace: given the music and the atmosphere, this is the place that draws me in most and makes the evening special. Francisco Lopez and Yasunao Tone have already performed: the Japanese artist, who had impressed me so much the night before with a kind of relentless break-noise, this time opts for a graphics tablet on which he draws ideograms projected onto the wall of the building: a nice idea, but the music, very stark and rather monotonous, doesn't live up to it. I later learn that much of the equipment the veteran Japanese musician had brought with him didn't work properly, so it could be described as a makeshift performance.

Olivia Block is a charming American musician whose aim is to integrate acoustic instruments with electronics: definitely an interesting artist, and one I'll be looking to get to know better on record. When Daniel Menche - an artist I confess I'm unfamiliar with, introduced to me as the "G.G. Allin of electronic music" - takes the stage, expectations run high, and I wonder what on earth he might have in store! In fact he doesn't quite plumb the moral depths of the late musician (fortunately): Menche uses a kind of microphone-amplifier bar with which he strikes his own body in every possible way, moving like someone possessed and screaming like a madman, aided by a series of effects: the result struck me as closer to the avant-noise of groups like Wolf Eyes than to pure electronics. Interesting, but frankly these somewhat provocative performances have never impressed me all that much: a matter of taste and expectations, of course - I note that for many of those present, Menche's performance was one of the most interesting things of the evening.

But anyway, as I've said ad nauseam, I was there for Richard Devine, and finally here he was: 40 minutes of break-core bordering on the white heat of pure noise, three furious progressions that the Atlanta-based American delivers with mastery, and at the end of the last note he gives us a real treat: those violin-like sounds I hear turn out to be from a track by a group that made guitars sound like anything but guitars better than anyone else: My Bloody Valentine, the track is "Touched", the third from "Loveless": a few seconds of poetry that temper 40 minutes of fury - thanks again, Richard! Menche returns to the stage to delight the crowd once more with some electronic sputtering alongside the resurrected Karkowski, but the musical evening on the terrace ends on a disappointing note: the much-anticipated set from Christian Vogel turns out to be a disappointing, limp jumble of music, not even amusing but rather tedious - a symptom, in my humble opinion, of unclear ideas about how to fill that place and that moment.

In fact the human tide (often rather pleasant to look at: a dear friend of mine had to drag me away to stop me from making a move on a dark-haired girl decked out in an intolerably testosterone-fuelled way) settles into the enormous main hall; the look and atmosphere given off by the architecture remind me of an old Ranx Xerox comic depicting a sort of futuristic, decadent nightclub. The incredible crush of bodies is almost unbearable, and it becomes quite an effort to enjoy the set of a commanding Sven Väth, who has everyone in raptures from 4am onwards. After a while, for me the evening winds down peacefully in the cinema room, where I watch films screened alongside music in the Raster-Noton mould (Alva Noto, Sakamoto, Jelinek and others), which round off the music nicely.

Around 6am, even though the techno kept roaring on in the hall, for me the two days had given all they had to give, and I headed home: I lived inside the Palazzo dei Congressi as if in some kind of spacecraft that, over two nights, carried me through a sort of non-place, one of those occasions when you feel music can truly let you live, momentarily, in another dimension - even a personal one. When I step outside and the dawn light is already illuminating everything, showing reality for what it is, it's something of a shame. See you in 2007, then!

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