photo credit: alec mackaye

Uzeda, “This Heat”

Monday night I went to the Starlight Ballroom to bid adieu to Sleater-Kinney. I generally don’t head out to R5 shows in the summertime because they’re always crowded and hot beyond all belief, but there’s times where I’m willing to make an exception. I walked out of the club drenched in sweat, skin so moist that it was peeling off David Blaine stylee. Not only that, I had some sort of bizarre rash crawling up my legs. I pray that someone at the Starlight Ballroom is cleaning off the furniture. What I want to say is: summertime is gross, fucking, gross.

At least there was _some_ air conditioning. I haven’t been overseas in a while, but where I lived in Sicily, AC was a luxury. To beat the heat, you either spent a good portion of your time at the beach or lying around.

This is the heat I conjure up at the start of Uzeda’s “This Heat”. But Uzeda live in Catania, located at the foot of _Mongibeddu_, aka Mt Etna. The heat they’re talking about is not your standard disgusting day — New Orleans has its hurricanes, Sicily has one of the world’s most active volcanoes. Etna may turn the oranges bloody which is great for martinis worldwide, but it also has the ability to destroy entire cities, which it did in 1669, 1928, 1983 and almost in 1992, the latter being the same summer judges were getting blown to bits on the A20 by the Mafia.

Math rock in 2006 — who fucking knew? — might sound like the punchline to an indie rock joke, but it works. Uzeda’s newest record, _Stella_, elucidates the line between between beauty and destruction found in Sicilian life. Two riffs, one a tinny chug maintaining the rhythm, the other pealing off distorted metallic notes, weave their way around each other, growing in intensity, pushing each other towards an uncertain fate.

You should totally buy this record.

Something about a crappy touring punk band, money and Starskream’s manager. It’s seven pages long — most threads on salt never get that way anymore. However, my time and brain cells are precious to me. Read at your own risk.