Senizero is like making love to a blender. You kinda enjoy it, but at the same time it hurts your senses. Afterwards, sounds you used to love just sound shabby.
Inspired by Lauren Bacchanal, pilgrims whipping themselves in penitence, and the NATO's understanding of peacekeeping, the band's signature sound is that of a gang of drunk convicts bare-knuckle-boxing on grand pianos and bathtub toys.
Listeners are shaken up and fine grounded by a combination of punchy bass lines and unpredictable rythm patterns, push, pulled or slapped on their faces by guitars that either cut through each other or sound like the rush hour traffic madness, and then yelled at by the rantings of a street salesman.
But Senizero can also be calypso-like music, that peculiar feeling of anxiety that takes you when driving the 15th hour in a row through a desert landscape at night, interrupted pop melodies, art-punk irreverence, a teenager's tongue-in-cheek impudence. More than a quartet, a desease and a treat to the ear.
SENIZERO
rock
