FANTÔMASDelirium Cordia(Ipecac)Your eyes close. A stylus connects with a vinyl groove, emitting that warm, oddly comforting kerplunk sound, a few tiny clicks and pops sounding off as the needle settles in. You feel relaxed. Gentle, lullaby-like strains of plucked strings fade in. Your eyes gently roll, your body goes numb, as you drift off to sleep. A sinister, low, rumbling note emerges from nowhere, a voice, perhaps yours (who knows) breathes and sighs with unsettling sounds of "haaaah... haaaah..." Something's not right. Suddenly, you're jolted as a monstrous flourish of a single, distorted guitar chord and a cymbal crash seizes you. Your heart starts to palpitate... you can hear your pulse start to race, as the strings come in again. This time, they're not soothing. You want to wake up, but you feel like your eyelids are glued shut. A voice laughs (or does it cry?), as you feel yourself sinking deeper, as a menacing choir of voices pulls you under, as that Satanic overture continues. Then, silence, but for a rumbling sound, like a deep, howling wind. Suddenly, waves of screeching noise pierce your eardrums, as you feel yourself being dragged deeper and deeper into some kind of subterranean, hellish lair. This is no lucid dream; all control has been surrendered. This is a freakin' nightmare, my friend, and you're not going anywhere.
Fantomas has a deep love of the macabre. The brainchild of Mike Patton, who is quickly establishing himself as one of the true demented geniuses of modern music, and featuring Melvins guitarist Buzz Osborne, Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo, and former Mr. Bungle bassist Trevor Dunn, Fantomas derives its name from the protagonist of the famous French crime novel series, and the music this quartet specializes in is just as dark and harrowing as the crimes the character commits. Orchestral, operatic, and completely over the top, Fantomas takes heavy metal music into completely uncharted territory, as it straddles the line between progressive metal and experimental post rock.
Their 2001 album, the deranged The Directors Cut, featured interpretations of various well-known film scores, ranging from music from The Omen, Rosemary's Baby, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, and Night of the Hunter. It's clear that Patton and his pals have a real knack for dark mood pieces, and on their new album, Delirium Cordia, they take a very bold step forward. This album is their own score for something more powerful than a scary movie: the sick, twisted dreams that emerge from your own subconscious when you're asleep. This album makes Alice Cooper's Welcome to My Nightmare sound like Cats in comparison. It makes Marilyn Manson about as scary as a cheap haunted house at a podunk county fair. No, the environment Fantomas creates here sounds real, uncomfortably real. To put it plainly, this is the most powerful musical interpretation of the nightmare experience that this reviewer has ever heard.
Delirium Cordia is one of the most audacious albums that has been released in recent years. An abstract concept album, it consists of one single, 74-minute track (it's safe to say that no singles will come out of this). It's simultaneously befuddling and enthralling, as Osborne's guitar sears, Lombardo's drumming takes on a twisted blend of metal and jazz, and the inimitable Mr. Patton turns in a virtuoso performance, as he howls, whispers, screeches, croons, whistles, and roars, all without any lyrics (his onomatopoeic, percussive vocals at the 27-minute mark are incredible). The music ranges from bombastic, metal flourishes, Eastern themes, hints of Gamelan, lounge piano, ambient, and opera (not to mention a Theremin and didgeridoo), as diverse musical styles are thrown in, seemingly arbitrarily. This is an album that needs to be played at a very loud volume, not only to get the full effect of the noise, but to also properly experience the quieter moments (check out Dunn's brilliantly scary bass solo at the ten-minute mark).
It almost defies description; this album is not one that you'd just put on at a whim. In complete contrast to today's instant-gratification, iPod-dominated, MP3 culture, you actually have to make time for this record, listen to it a few times, and completely lose yourself. It's not the most pleasant thing you'll ever hear, and it's not for the faint of heart, but there's no question that when it's all over, Delirium Cordia will leave you completely awestruck. Just make sure you don't fall asleep with the CD on.
fonte: popmatters==========================================
FANTÔMASDelirium Cordia(Ipecac)riferimenti: Tomahawk, U.S. Maple
voto: 8
Non appena il rinvio sull'uscita del nuovo disco dei Fantomas lascia trapelare bizzarre informazioni sul prodotto in questione, una strana puzza di commerciale comincia a diffondersi nell'aria. Il disco che si annuncia dà l'impressione di essere un potpourri di stramberie, molte delle quali già sentite e che difficilmente, sommate tra loro, sembrano essere in grado di elevarsi, ma anzi rischiano di depositarsi come grumi sul fondo della mescola: in primis il fantomatico (chiedo scusa) packaging, causa del rinvio della pubblicazione; poi, il fatto che il disco consista di una sola traccia, cosa sicuramente non nuova (gli stessi Melvins di Lysol), e che peraltro, a detta dello stesso Patton, è più che altro una ricucitura di frammenti tra loro ben distinti; se aggiungiamo da ultimo che il disco finisce con ben 20 minuti di zanzarismi elettroambientali, sembra la fiera del già detto (si pensi, che so, al primo dei Liars, o, ancora, ai Melvins di Honky).
Insomma, qualche dubbio è lecito averlo: innanzitutto sulla correttezza dell'operazione, sul senso di compattare in un unico brano una serie di piccole schegge: a che pro? Stravaganze fine a se stesse? Ego trabordante di Patton (e chi lo ha visto a Correggio quest'estate qualche sentore lo può avere)? Ennesimo caso di indecisione fra "è sperimentale" e "ma c'era davvero ancora bisogno di tutto questo?"? Perplessi pure voi, eh?
Ok, dissipate ogni barlume di dubbio: questo è il disco che apre nel migliore dei modi il 2004.
E, come in un gioco dei contrari, quanto descritto come potenzialmente deprecabile risulta esserne l'esatto opposto. A partire dalla forte coesione di tutte le linee sviluppate dal disco, che convergono, sotto forma di suoni, parole ed immagini alla descrizione di un unico grande evento: una truculenta e quantomai poco ortodossa operazione chirurgica, una sifonia per bisturi ad opera di un medico impazzito.
Si parte in maniera sacrale, con canti ecclesiastici e chitarre urlanti, un "Introibo ad altare dei" per il "compositore", le cui mani incrociate campeggiano sulla prime pagina del booklet, leggermente offuscate da un jewel-box appositamente opacizzato.
Di lì in poi il martirio delle carni è scandito dalle peripezie sonore del quartetto e dalle immagini e didascalie del libricino. Frenesie chitarristiche ed assalti elettronici, come seghetti inferociti, aggrediscono l'ascoltatore, provocandone in parecchie occasioni un compiaciuto fastidio, mentre la parte ritmica, è perfettamente funzionale al conferire potenza e profondità ai colpi inferti. Il tutto è reso con strutture minuziose, amalgamate tra loro da una pasta di elettronoise dilatato, ma anch'esso funzionale al concedere uno scampolo di sosta e di suspense prima del colpo successivo. La presenza di un malcapitato paziente è peraltro evocata con tutti gli stilemi del caso, dagli affanni respiratori a un elletrocardiogramma che lo segnala tra i più, fino ad un ultimo magistrale risveglio post-mortem.
Inoltre, su questo fondale che più nero non si può, si innestano, come schizzi di sangue, le gigionerie di stampo Mr.Bungle-Melvins, giochetti elettronici e melodie simil-lounge, stacchetti tribali, radio fuori sintonia, addirittura una specie di mantra buddista, a ribadire che l'ironia e il black humour in casa Ipecac (a differenza di molte altre seriose etichette sperimentali) sono un importante ed irrinunciabile distintivo: e come si può non farsi scappare una risata nel notare che sotto i guanti di lattice e i litri di plasma le mani del chirurgo non sono altro che quelle di un manichino.
Sicuramente influenzato dal precedente lavoro in studio (una rilettura di colonne sonore prevalentemente di horror anni 70), ma svincolandosi dal rapporto con il concetto di cover, comunque già poco pedissequo, i Fantomas riescono a penetrare nello spirito stesso della musica da film dell'orrore: e se si considera che questo viene fatto in maniera così profonda e a distanza di parecchi anni dai possibili modelli, non ci possono essere dubbi sull'elevatezza compositiva e anche strettamente culturale della band. Si potrebbe arrivare a dire che il disco non ha nemmeno bisogno di un film da supportare, perché il delirio, lo sfogo brutale, il grottesco e il macabro sono, qui tra le pieghe e le piaghe di un disco, che a dispetto di chi, come il sottoscritto, lo immaginava vicino ad una serie di fastidiosi ma inutili pizzicotti, ha la forza di essere un unico e maestoso pugno allo stomaco.
Unmute=================================================
FANTÔMASDelirium Cordia(Ipecac)Mike Patton is one of the most charismatic men in rock, undeniably naturally talented, frankly opinionated with a zero bullshit tolerance policy and has a healthy disgust with the business mechanics of the music industry.
He’s probably done more than anyone to bring experimental, harsh and truly leftfield music into the headphones of alternative rock and rock/rap listeners. Come to think of it, he’s also a prominent figure in the rise of chin only beards, ¾ length trousers and eyebrow piercings (a look I have much admired and partially copied). His constant collaborations, live experiments with disparate acts (recently with Zorn, X-ecutioners Dillinger Escape Plan and Rahzel), as well as his multiple band experiences have seen him pushing himself further than most artists are willing to go.
That’s why the latest album from one of his main musical projects is hardly a surprise, even if it is composed of only one track. As you would expect of a single piece lasting 74 minutes, Delirium Cordia (meaning heart condition or murmur in slightly altered Latin) moves through several different shades of mood (of the darker persuasion) recalling and revolving around the sounds and snatches of a deliberately sinister melodic motif, a dark piano piece reminiscent of the vocal theme of Rosemary’s Baby.
Even though the tagline for the LP is ‘Surgical sound specimens from the Museum of Skin’, don’t expect any A Chance to Cut is a Chance to Cure style sounds from inside butchered flesh (although I can imagine Patton wouldn’t have shied away from such experiments). Breaking this down to its core elements, it’s a horror movie soundtrack; a balefully themed exercise in prompting your imagination to lurch down a particular alley. I’ll admit to being a little apprehensive (does that sound better than scared, ladies?) of the dark, but not in a witching hour of ghosts and ghouls way. It’s more of a ‘there is a fevered mentalist with surgical equipment somewhere in the flat’ way. Bereft of sight, my imagination takes over and it’s warped enough with Fantomas pitching in.
Crawling through sections of rhythm explosions, streams of dribbling dripping liquids (it’s blood! Blood I tell you!) and wordless Monk chanting a la The Omen, this is engaging and frightening material. These razor edged peaks and bloody troughs sometimes lead off the musical map into moments of bewilderment as you hear the scrambling panic of someone attempting to revive a body (7.18), while the music rises to engorging atonal unforgiving chimes. The Dave Lombardo percussive detonations meld with the wordless Patton vocal spluttering and lead me off into visions of gore splattering.
There are irregular revisits to a melody as the piano theme twists into a creepy whistling. The subject matter of surgery and the recently opened viscous body is ever present and it’d be easy to imagine this being co-opted in the near future. It only loses the pitch black arterial feel at several different points when snatches of found radio sound (a bloody hymn of all things), tweeting birds, saw music, a didgeridoo and an extended passage of nothing but the wind enter into the mix.
As record companies began to quietly vocalise their seditious interest in offering their releases as downloads as well as ‘real’ records, LP artwork could be edging towards inconsequentiality. By delaying Delirium Cordia’s release for three months simply to ensure the quality of the creepy as hell artwork shows an unheard of dedication to their art. I can’t say that it was really worth the wait, unfortunately. Although it held my attention throughout its entirety, I don’t see it as a release you can draw much from through repeated listening, but it’s a brave and powerful trip nonetheless.
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Being a big Fantomas fan, I must say I was really disappointed in Delirium Cordia. After hearing about this album, I thought it would be amazing, but I was dead wrong. Delirium Cordia is one song that lasts for almost an hour and fifteen minutes, but it turned into a complete disaster. It's safe to say that Delirium Cordia is Mike Patton's most shameful work to date.
Standing at almost seventy-five minutes, "Surgical Sound Specimens From The Musuem Of Skin" is nothing more then a collection of strange, annoying sounds that repeat over and over until this abomination ends. The work of instruments is also terrible, mainly because Buzz Osbourne's guitar work is almost invisible and Dave Lombardo doesn't get to do his technical drumming like he has in previous Fantomas efforts. The real buzzkill here is Mike Patton. Patton does no good vocal work here. All he does is make these annoying, high pitched moans that are lame and repetitive. The other Fantomas albums at least have Patton making different sounds with his vocals, but the vocals here don't change. Patton's vocal work is the real death blow here, mainly because of the lack of diversity in his voice.
Delirium Cordia is nothing to get hyped up about. This album is proof that Mike Patton, the former Faith No More frontman, the mastermind behind Tomahawk, and the man who spawned "The Director's Cut," could fuck up every now and then. If you want the good Fantomas, get "The Director's Cut" and "Suspended Animation." But do yourself a favor and stay away............far away.
Rock'n'World==============================================
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Il post di GOZZO, è tratta da rocklab
