Haven't You Heard?
This second album by TSS in a step forward of this musical project, after the eponymous début album in 2002. The two 'senders' are Maurizio Duka Moroni (music, piano and electronics, production and sound engineering), supported by Paolo 'Dr. Phibes' Caucci (guitars). Again we find short musical stories (the texts in the booklet are merely a thematic reference), and 'Haven't you heard?' throws us in front of a cinema screen, where complex sound collages are projected, producing new sensations and involving the audience each time they listen to the CD. Maurizio Duka Moroni, among other things, has been working in cinema for years, as composer and sound engineer, which explains the atmosphere and style that are a characteristic of the tracks. It's always very hard to stick labels on music, both for unavoidable personal involving and the bent for simplifying too much what, by choice, wants to be an open matter. That's why The Silent Senders take advantage to the end of the analogic roughness and sound, of the tridimensional dynamic of sampled sounds, of the hyperrealism of the electric guitar and of all a rising tide of hardly recognizable timbres, took under control with notable mastery. A close sequence of visionary and fanciful musical meanders (at last, after such dried indie and lo-fi sounds) to such rich surroundings and atmospheres, imaginatevely conceived. The Silent Senders' 'Haven't you heard?' is rich in new hints, between rock and electronic handling, lisergic trip and soundtrack, explosive energy projection and imaginary vision and, thanks to their performance skills, the authors work out refined movement strategies to describe what they see through the lenses of their vivid imagination. It can be listened in two different ways, as an "accompaniment" CD, to listen in every moment of day, while you're in the car, in the underground, using your vacuum cleaner (but take my advise, turn up the volume), at work, during a boring class, during a space mission (how many times have you been floating in space with nothing to listen?), under the shower or jogging. It's perfect, in every circumstance, because you have every feeling there: euphory, melancholy, suspence, relaxation, it really could be the soundtrack of every moment of your life; the alternative, a most-sacred one, is considering this CD a work of art. One of those works in which passion, accuracy in the composition and extreme, almost maniacal care for the slightest details, are evident and make everything perfect: from the titles to the artwork, for that note more, for that pause less, for the heat released, freezing your veins, because it's, in effect, wisely produced, in a way that the slightest sound comes out surprisingly brilliant, even in that sea of sounds that conquers us in the middle of a track. So, as you would do in front of a Degas exposed in a museum, you want to enjoy it throughly; you wouldn't take a quick look at it while passing by, you would stop, you would take a closer look, observing the strokes of the brush, the pression on the canvas, you would try to understand the choice of the colours, their depth, how they match together, how they react to reflected light and, once back home, thinking again about it, you would like to go back there and enjoy new details, that you could find out at every new observation, and experiencing it more consciously. In the same way, you often go back with 'Haven't you heard?', to listen again to a track, to understand better a concept, to enjoy a riff, a sound, a pause, every time discovering something we hadn't noticed before, so you go back again, and again, and again there's something else. Something we like more and more.So that's why it's better to have two copies of it, by listening to it again and again, a thousand times, the CD is done for. The only difference is that you have to pay the ticket to see a Degas, every single time you want to see it, while you buy The Silent Senders' 'Haven't you heard?' once. It's like having a Degas at home...