RED WORMS' FARM - Cane Gorilla Serpente

Starting out with slowcore experiments in the vein of Codeine (though never committed to vinyl or tape), Red Worms’ Farm have since become a small institution of Italian alternative rock. Based around Padua, specifically in the locality of Troncomorto (something of a headquarters for the alternative rock scene in the area), the band soon emerged as a possessed take on the Fugazi–wave idiom. Beginning with the self-titled debut (Halley, 2001) and a second official album (“Troncomorto”; Fooltribe, 2002), and continuing with appearances on compilations and splits (the one with To The Ansaphone is a standout), their post-punk aesthetic reached a moment of real class with “Yeah, Yeah Everything” (from the third album “Amazing!”, 2005), a brisk post-punk anthem worthy of the abrasiveness of the early Liars.

The latest “Cane Gorilla Serpente” follows the old adage of never fixing what isn't broken. Aside from the scant electronic touches added in post-production (and a tiny brass section that almost sounds comical), and the retreat into a mechanized sound that works best on alternative dance floors, the trio shows its real abilities in the moments where it chooses to apply a bit of sonic reworking: “Forty Two”, a tank of riffs and drums in constant pulsation (with sax and fanfare inserts) that recalls the most terrifying experiments of Pil and Gang Of Four, and “The Kingdom Rules” is a sort of lighter (that is, more tonal) version of Laddio Bolocko in its torrential momentum (the drumming is remarkable).

The minor tracks are simply a déjà vu, both for the band itself and in relation to the whole hardcore and punk-funk revival: “Less Is More” (a poor copy of Gang Of Four's “Solid Gold”), “Devo” (a idiosyncratic tribute to the mother band of techno-rock, but much closer to Mission Of Burma), “Kill My Brother” (thunderous and pointlessly acrobatic), “Atmosphere” (sung and pounded, but flattened by the elementary repetition of its riff), “Whatever For Us” (almost a plagiarism of our own Carniful Trio and early XTC), and “Help Me!” (a skimpy emocore nursery rhyme heavily indebted to “Daydream Nation”).

Too much blind fury and not enough brains: the fourth long(ish) album from the Padua power trio (Pierre Canali and Marco Martin on guitars, Matteo Di Lucca on drums) can claim the dubious distinction of stringing together banal riffs for the sheer pleasure of letting them interlock with sophisticated drumming grooves. This time the formula works for less than half the record, undermined by amateur rave-music fever, embarrassingly stereotyped chants, and flat arrangements that sound like a crude copy-and-paste job.

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18/07/2008