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Maria Violenza – Scirocco


( Performed and produced by Maria Violenza, 2018)


An Epiphonic Convert Thriving in the New-Dark; Morrocan mint tea and a hairless Roman Jesus alongside Them Suicide Doors, but fuzzy, muddled, and deranged — drum-machines jazzed Mazzy-like to a baffled Arab Mary in chainmail and leather. She in blue but red with open veins standing in stillness — teetering, teeming to speak of the dissonance sacrificed so-to reverberate in vast Vega-dripped Somascapes … But it is to be no longer. Until this, Maria Violenza’s Scirocco becomes something you feel in your psyche first — ready-made like a pagan past-life — and then in your chest like many warbled statues that quake before crumbling in pumping capillaries, and then felt on your heavy shoulders and the back of your haunched neck, as the music stalks and haunts from behind, lurking like you’re last in line crawling through the halls of a fun house. Like the color of the skin under your fingernails when you can’t hold on any longer, but you do because you must, as Faustus deems the job isn’t finished quite yet. This record for once conjures the truth of spectral vagaries in this here our darkness that is darker than a shadow, or the singular corner in a tragic deep hole. There is no vintage in a void, and our new-dark never reveals itself in cautioned caverns — only in love and violence and Scirocco

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