1.2.23 by Ryan Masteller

The prolific (if his Discogs profile is to be believed) Nicholas Remondino isn’t kidding around with the music he makes under his LAMIEE. moniker, and why would he? The Turin-based musician is surrounded at all times by the mention of shrouds, probably because the most famous one ever is stored at the Cathedral of Turin, also bearing the town’s name. What this must be like for the average Turinese is beyond me – who could take life anything other than seriously with that kind of religio-historical baggage hoisted upon one’s shoulders, a constant reminder of Catholic presence and rigged history?

So it’s probably no surprise that on “INN,” Remondino-as-LAMIEE. does NOT break out of that box I’ve placed him in and start twiddling funky knobs on his funky Korg but instead hunkers down and cooks two 12.5-minute odes to roadside stasis, temporary residence, and frustrated waiting for an existential push toward whatever’s next. “INN 1” emulates the inner workings of the restless mind, a constant nervous shifting playing out over rapid-fire pings of self-doubt where each potential path forward/out collapses on itself before it can even gain confident footing. This seemingly never-ending cycle’s mirage of movement fades to the realization that the current present is the only present, and the hyperactivity of possibility only occurs behind and within, a secret struggle for meaning at a psychological waystation.

“INN 2,” of course, mulches up a church organ, because, you know, Cathedral of Turin. This feels like an exorcism.

Ah, who am I kidding – I’m just imposing my own storyline here. But the disintegration (!) of these organ loops is fascinating as a metaphor for the mental condition following religious indoctrination. Who’s to say this isn’t intentional! It’s certainly riveting music.

Edition of 50 on Never Anything!