Resistance music editing


This year’s festival is a small miracle; a festival in times opposed to festivals. And since we are past that strange number, 13, we can carry on doing what we know best: and this definitely includes music. Three people that did not know each other assumed the responsibility of unraveling the thread of “materials resistance” and musically describing it. We held meetings on the festival’s premises and in web 2.0, listening to the proposals of bands for their participation in the music events of the festivals. Artists that were not necessarily familiar to us sent in their demos and ideas, while we were working on the ideal music program of a comics festival. Some decisions were unanimous right from the start, others took more time, and we regularly sat and listened again and again to several kinds of music before reaching consensus. Then we started getting in touch with the artists. We were amazed at their direct response; it was as if not one minute had passed, since the previous festival. We didn’t classify the music in “genres,” in “crowd-pleasers” or not. Genres were once invented by record companies with a view to selling albums, and the music industry—as we knew it—has (fortunately for some of us) collapsed. The bands co-exist in the program as a unity, no matter what their origins are. Music is most likely indivisible, at least the better side of music. So the visitors of the festival can listen to wooden guitars that allude to the Appalachians, drones that test the resistance of materials, electronic soundscapes impeccably combined with moving pictures, hip-hop from the concrete rythmology of cities, new and older noisy garage, noise tides and ebbs. The new, indoors venue of the festival lead the way to directions we are just beginning to explore. Ours is an invitation to surfing the ocean of sound. Very few are drowned; most of us have something to gain.