Originally written by Matt Longo
I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a Bob Dylan fan, but I’ve listened to a fair cross-section of his career. Portions have been steeped in mystery and controversy, and while I don’t much care one way or another about his acoustic-versus-electric thang, his born-again Christian period is most intriguing. It’s not like religious songs are inherently bad, but when your ears tune to heavier wavelengths, secular tends to satisfy — plus, the best music is usually birthed from contention, regardless of medium. Still, it’s funny that ‘soul’ is something desired across the entire spectrum, nebulous though the term may be. The conduit to translate experience into emotion is elusive, so what is the soul of Zolle?
It’s all up there, y’know. All those ideas you squirrel away. The brilliant beginnings that flash all too quickly in explosive, fleeting moments. But the catch is better than the chase in this case, and since 2002, the Malleus Rock Art Lab have successfully harnessed these creative powers to disseminate a wide range of media. Originally focused on prints and posters, with the self-started Supernatural Cat uprising over the last five years, they have unleashed surprises from the cerebral centrifuge of Ufomammut to the otherworldly instrumental Morkobot.
Zolle has arguably more in common with Morkobot than anything else, considering the band was started by Morkobot bassist Marcelo Lan; the two bands even have eponymous and near-eponymous debut albums. But where they greatly differ is track length: Morkobot has no song under three minutes; Zolle hardly ever reach that mark across the entire album. The one exception being the 7:41 synth-drenched closer “Moongitruce” — one of the longest tracks in either band’s catalogue. Actually, I’ll argue my own first point in this paragraph: In terms of Italian instrumental duos, Le Scimmie are their closest cousins, since they demonstrate the same strengths and weaknesses within a similar delivery.
It does often feel like pieces are missing. The especially short songs like opener “Trakthor” feel like a bunch of decent riffs, but not super cohesive. Followup “Leequame” gets a bit more dynamic and works out a nice sonic arc; we even get a little variety via tambourine in “Mayale” (and no, I shall not refer to Stefano the drummer as “Mr. Tambourine Man”). But by the time we hit “Man Ja to Ya!” it already feels like retreading. Extra layers are what help give duo bands like Black Cobra more bite, and if your group has no throat, either bust out some guitar loops or get adventurous. The best brief song is “Heavy Letam” by far, because they adjust the ebb and flow, play with additional percussion, and experiment with sounds beyond surly slabs of fuzz. Likewise, “Trynchatowak” benefits from its minimalist segue, with the inescapable sense that FUN happened here. After all, this was reportedly recorded more or less live, and every press release and review seems to mention a “massive copper drum kit” coupled with an “old 1950s digital amp” which Zolle uses to achieve their sound. (My ears and brain aren’t trained to detect such things, but maybe yours are.)
Point is, we all dig — some deeper than others — so the way this crosses your plate may vary. During my excavation, I discovered Zolle literally translates from Italian to ‘clods’ in English. For now, I’ll attribute its meaning to the duality of existing within a cosmically mundane birth–death cycle, though still remaining contemplative about the nature of our labor. One way or another, everyone’s gotta serve somebody, and we all gotta ‘shovel’ stuff now and again — whatever it may be, and for whatever purpose — however, we are not slaves. State of mind and state of body become one for a time, and when we pay the price for our existence, just the former remains. The soul of Zolle toils in the soils of Lodi, simultaneously solid yet crumbling through fragile fingers.
