.cranio.

Many thanks to Luca who quickly despatched not one, but three copies of the self titled debut full length platter from Cranio in super quick time – via furry heart records in case you are taking notes – and you should be because in truth this is shaping up to be one of the best things we‘ve heard all year (so far). Cranio are a noise-niking Italo duo who caught our ear a little over a week ago when we cast our lobes upon both ‘problem’ and ‘I like fishing’ (the opening brace of salvos from this immense set) and of whom such references to a Doolittle era Pixies in case of the latter and agit popping art gouged math rock for the former were uttered joyously. Wouldn’t mind they’re not even the best cuts here as playing this here finished copy pays testament. Case in point ‘invada’ which runs out side 1 and appears to cover so many bases its dizzying, aside trying to pummel your headspace in to the middle of next week for the best part its curdled in moments of psychotropic delirium wherein everything goes all woozy and kaleidoscopically wired, kind of Shit n’ Shine with tunes freewheeling between passages tripped out voodoo groove and spooked out with flashes of seriously deranged off the radar schizoid freakish spasms. Over on side B lurk four similar slabs of spazzed out dementia with the claustrophobically heaving ‘monsters’ rearing shoulders high above all (with the exception of ‘Vida Criminal’) being blessed with a sludgy mutant sub-tronic dub vibe that one suspects hints irrefutably at someone in the ranks adept at cross pollinating the darkening essences of ‘metal box’ era PIL and a youthful early 80’s styled Killing Joke. ‘sob town’ on the other hand is acutely nailed with a warping riff snake wind of the type that had us scurrying for our record collection to re-acquaint ourselves with those essential early days Clinic 7’s for comparison. The post punk references aren’t lost on us with the appearance of the truly wired and weirded out ’drain’ – a hulking blistered blues bastard whose primary DNA picks the bones from This Heat and then wires onto it, in a cannibalistic fashion, Captain Beefheart motifs only to then fling the resultant brew through a sonic spin dryer to bleed in traces elements of Part Chimp and Hey Colossus. As hinted earlier – clearly – and by some distance – the best moment of the set is the parting shape shifter ’Vida Criminal’ – a ground throbbing dance floor decimating psyched out discoid replete with edgy primitive minimalist monochrome shadow playing motifs and monastic chorals lifted straight out of New Orders ‘blue Monday’ all lassoed to a most addictive loop grooved bare boned riffage. an utterly formidable set