Another fellow who I perceive as harbouring sociopathic tendencies is Maurizio Bianchi, appearing here today under his M.B. guise. While acknowledging his status as an important creator of nihilistic industrial noise, we haven’t managed to assemble a comprehensive collection of his output, noting only such reissues or rebakes as are sent to our abode, such as the very “memorable” LP Computers S.P.A., a reissue of a 1980 cassette whose patrons described as “apocalyptic avantgarde” with maximum accuracy.
On today’s item, the far less violent Bacillusmetrial Entopathogen (ATTENUATION CIRCUIT ACGF 1002), it might seem that our hostile Italian is aiming to destroy his enemies by means of gradual erosion, rather than instant death at the hands of a machine-gun. As title indicates, it’s all about microbes – and perhaps the grisly fate that these microscopic entities can bring about, such as the bacteria at the end of War of the Worlds, or any number of more recent virus / pandemic movies (the list on IMDB is already up to 18 titles). I do like the idea that our Italian friend credits himself with “playing” these organisms – “infectronics” is just one of the fanciful names listed on the back cover, suggesting that what we’re hearing is the very essence of these single-cell entities, as if Bianchi had found some means to harness their core into synthesised sound.
However, more prosaically, the album is just three long-form tracks of dark ambient drone music, albeit shot through with an interminable sense of despair and futility, with some oddly compelling textures and shapes heaving out of the turgid churn of rancid butter. The label notes point out there’s also some form of entropic action going down on the grooves, as the loops gradually “slow down and die away”. We can take heart, they say, in that as long we can keep on hearing something it means we are still alive.
Limited edition CD packaged in an outsize card wallet with M.B. abstract collage artwork, and jointly released with Grubenwehr Freiburg. From 18/03/2024.