Tsigoti
The Imagination Liberation Front Thinks Again
release date 8/28/2012
get it at Post Consumer records
With their third transatlantic bouillabaisse of anarcho-virtuosi avant-punk stylings, Tsigoti continue to intone their unabashed frustrations with the shortcomings of our human experiment with war. The Imagination Liberation Front Thinks Again (ILF), our new slab from this quartet of overly experienced anti-specialists, merges the angst of punk, the absurdity of Dada and the soapbox political shoutings of the world’s finest provocateurs.
ILF shifts like the surface of an ocean. It’s moody, cinematic and forceful. The lyrics are borne from genuine frustration and dissatisfaction with the atrocities of war, violence, injustice, genocide, superiority, prejudice, arrogance, oppression, pollution and freeways. There’s a Dadaesque boiling-over to the words, which only supply yet more integrity to the madcap ravings of the guitar, bass and drums. At times, Thollem provides an exemplary bent circus piano, even throwing in some ragtime, but as if Scott Joplin swapped hormones with Iggy Pop. Each musician grows in and out of each other, in a quantumly and musically entangled force field.
But this is not inaccessible music, which makes Tsigoti even more important. Their whimsical, spasmodic punkestrations exhibit a deep precision, like a finely-oiled Jean Tinguely sculpture. You just hit the power switch and watch the whole thing unfold. That is how to experience the world of Tsigoti.
The Imagination Liberation Front Thinks Again
release date 8/28/2012
With their third transatlantic bouillabaisse of anarcho-virtuosi avant-punk stylings, Tsigoti continue to intone their unabashed frustrations with the shortcomings of our human experiment with war. The Imagination Liberation Front Thinks Again (ILF), our new slab from this quartet of overly experienced anti-specialists, merges the angst of punk, the absurdity of Dada and the soapbox political shoutings of the world’s finest provocateurs.
ILF shifts like the surface of an ocean. It’s moody, cinematic and forceful. The lyrics are borne from genuine frustration and dissatisfaction with the atrocities of war, violence, injustice, genocide, superiority, prejudice, arrogance, oppression, pollution and freeways. There’s a Dadaesque boiling-over to the words, which only supply yet more integrity to the madcap ravings of the guitar, bass and drums. At times, Thollem provides an exemplary bent circus piano, even throwing in some ragtime, but as if Scott Joplin swapped hormones with Iggy Pop. Each musician grows in and out of each other, in a quantumly and musically entangled force field.
But this is not inaccessible music, which makes Tsigoti even more important. Their whimsical, spasmodic punkestrations exhibit a deep precision, like a finely-oiled Jean Tinguely sculpture. You just hit the power switch and watch the whole thing unfold. That is how to experience the world of Tsigoti.
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