It roughly translates to:
I attract groups that do not want to like it at all costs. Those that just approach you show the quills like porcupines.
The Mamuthones fall fully into this category. Animals without hairless to caress. I did not follow their discography consistently and after all how do you follow everything without cheating and paying attention more or less due? I do not know what is considered their masterpiece but personally, among the three discs in their name in my possession, this beats them all, thanks to small prismatic masterpieces like Cars and Alone where they live together in a state of shared captivity Oneida, Supersystem and also the beating of wings of Bela Lugosi declared alive when everyone gave him for dead.
It seems to be inside those labyrinths that were the Liquid Liquid records. The percussions that become hundreds of pins and nails, the guitars that are bones victims of fulminant osteoporosis while the keyboards look like fakirs to advance on this carpet of splinters and the bass lines pass us through meandering.
The music of the Mamuthones is almost a broken bossanova, left to rot inside a favelas hut and now it crawls out, to see if there is still a slice of sun to heal the bruises. And it comes back to being alive with a pungent and diffident vitality. (Franco Dimauro)
Read the full review here: Music Letter
---
