Behind the moniker La Furnasetta lies an Italian industrial collective that's by now fairly well known within its niche. Their discography kicks off in 2018 with the semi-clandestine EP “Dawn Of The White Hearts”, but it was with “Infernot” (2024) that the project reached a fully-formed, brutal shape: a harsh, uncompromising take on destructured hardcore riffs, hip-hop chants and punk ferocity, all of it battered by constant noise-industrial intrusions.
The new “Something Wicked This Way Comes” instead presents itself as a return to origins in monstrous form: a veritable two-faced Janus looking simultaneously to the past and the future. A record that digs into the roots of industrial archaeology and that aspires - as the band themselves have stated - to stand as a black metal hauntology album.
The distorted guitars indeed sound so distant and corroded that they give the impression of having been recorded onto a tape many decades old, now on the verge of total dissolution. More than an instrument, the guitar becomes a ghost: a spectral, invisible, almost absent evocation summoned as if in a séance.
By contrast, the industrial, noise and dark-ambient elements come across as far more vivid and tangible. You can feel it in the obsessive drones of "Elephant Cemetery", in the deathly, unrecognizable riffs of "Hell In Dub", or in the rigorous "I Was Born In West Texas", structured in at least three distinct movements: an ambient introduction, the entrance of the vocals, and finally the explosion – or rather the terminal deformation – of the distortion.
On “Something Wicked This Way Comes”, La Furnasetta ends up exposing rock as something putrescent: a fetid carcass, now reduced to a relic, to be exhumed not out of nostalgia, but to show its decomposition. Perhaps revealing to us a piece of the truth.
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11/01/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Valerio D'Onofrio, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.