BLOCCONERO: Cronache
Release year: 2023
Label: self-released
The conceptual and ideological history and genealogy of industrial music is long, complex, self-contradictory and confusing. Ever since its inception, industrial has been dabbling in the entire spectrum of political expression, usually gravitating towards the extremes of the ideological spectrum. It is not always easy to tell when an artist exploring a certain ideology or mode of expression is using subversion, making an artistic statement, or being entirely frank in what they’re saying. As Genocide Organ put it, “We never say what we think, and we never believe what we say, and if we tell the truth by accident, we hide it under so many lies that it is difficult to find out.” And this is, of course, one of the most intriguing things about industrial music: how it confronts and challenges the listener.
Musically, the history of the style is not much less convoluted and twisted. The very fact that among its offshoots is neofolk is enough proof. That a style of music where a return to an acoustic, non-electric and in many ways antimodern mode of expression is a primary element would evolve from industrial, a genre intrinsically tied to technology, is both weird and wonderful. (Of course: neofolk is not just an offshoot of industrial, but one cannot deny the connection.)
Now, I know there are plenty of latter day neofolk acts who dabble in profane politics and ideologies, but for me, neofolk has always primarily been a music that strives for the eternal, away from the mundane – from explicit political ideology and demagoguery. This has always been to me one of the differences between neofolk and industrial.
BloccoNero from Italy is a project which musically takes on the form of neofolk, but the presentation and concept draw heavily from the traditions of industrial music in being very explicitly political. “Ah, politics and neofolk!”, I hear you cry out, “Say no more! We get what you mean – wink wink, nudge nudge!” – but, for once: no! The Italians situate themselves firmly on the left, within the anarchist spectrum.
I know there is a small group of neofolk acts who actively identify themselves as antifascist, who make it a point to point that out. As opposed to, say, Of The Wand And The Moon, who some years ago “blacked” their profile picture on social media (which was generally seen as support for the BLM movement at the time) but haven’t otherwise been very vocal about political matters at least to my knowledge. But even within this markedly antifascist corner of neofolk, to so boldly display political colour seems unusual to me. (Or maybe I’m just out of the loop.)
After this lengthy and rambling introduction, we finally get around to digging into Cronache, BloccoNero’s newest album. According to the band’s description the album, whose song titles are all dates, focuses on important moments of the anarchist movement. To quote them directly, “8 dates to remember”, “8 times in which hope for a change has been defeated”, “8 stories that are part of the antifascist and anarchist international history.”
In this sense, though BloccoNero’s ideological and conceptual stylings are unusual for neofolk, they arrive at what I’ve always considered one of its core elements: the question of identity. Of what “we” are, of what defines “us”, and almost inescapably, of how this elusive “we” is in opposition to the world around it. “Revolt against the modern world,” as another Italian from the opposite end of the political spectrum put it, and throngs of neofolk fans have adopted as their call to arms – possibly without understanding fully what is meant by it.
Musically, for the most part, Chronache is… well, neofolk. Acoustic guitars strumming classic neofolk melodies, aided by other primarily acoustic instruments (synthesized or not), martial percussion, synths, samples and various odd effects. Speech samples are utilized aplenty, which is of course another neofolk trope. Friends of the genre will not find it hard to get into the tunes on Chronache. The melancholy, forlorn emotions and the juxtaposition of speech samples, industrial background layers and acoustic guitar is essentially pure neofolk.
And pretty good neofolk, too. Many of these compositions are really good, with a powerful emotional charge. Samples have been utilized well; even when I don’t understand what is being said (which is a lot of the time, considering many of them are in Italian), they convey the abstract emotion.
Sadly, Cronache is instrumental (apart from the closing track, but we’ll return to that in a minute). The neofolk tracks consists entirely of instrumentation and speech samples. And especially in album length, it becomes obvious that Cronache is missing this one, significant element: a singer. One or two instrumentals on a neofolk album is fine, but an album of neofolk instrumentals feels… well, like there’s a hole in the middle.
A few of the tracks are more industrial in nature: 11 Settembre features slow synths and crackling distortion, which results in a very old school industrial noise style track. It brings welcome change to the album, breaking up the pace a bit, and as such rises to become one of the more memorable moments of the album. Another memorable moment is the aforementioned 3 Marzo, which closes the album; sweeping synths over which a male voice recites a modified version of John Lennon’s Working Class Hero. Interjecting these stylistically aberrant tracks on the album was a good choice, helping to some extent mitigate the above.
Beneath it all, boiled down to its essential core, Cronache contains most of the elements of a fine neofolk album. Or an even better one than just “fine.” But sadly, only most – not all. As such, the album leaves one wanting. This really is a shame.
As it stands, I cannot call Cronache essential listening or recommend it without reservations. But, with the reservations mentioned above, I can (and do) reservedly encourage fans of neofolk to check the album out. Even if it feels a bit incomplete, like something is missing, the compositions are strong enough for friends of the genre to give it a spin or two.
And I admit: I still don’t like too much explicit politickeering in my neofolk, regardless of what direction of politics it is. (In that sense, of course, the lack of vocals and lyrics might be seen a plus, ha!) But on the other hand, it is in the fine and time-honoured tradition of industrial music: Cronache confronts, challenges and provokes the listener. It is not easy to be merely a passive consumer; BloccoNero demands activity and effort on the listener’s part as well on a whole other level than your average neofolk act, whose aesthetics consist of a couple of runes and imagery vaguely romanticising the past. There is some value in that.
Only Death Is Real 