Cadavere

from by LOIA

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  • Record/Vinyl

    "Nodo alla gola", in english “knot in your throat”. It's LOIA's first work. 18 blasting tracks of fast and raw hardcore/punk with death and black metal riffs. Printed in 475 copies on black vynil. Artwork by guitarist Stefano aka Coito Negato.
    Recorded and mixed by Lorenzo Bellia at Hammered Sound Studio in Florence.
    Mastered at Enormous Door, Austin, Tx.

    "when your nerves are so tense and your angst is so uncontrollable that you can’t even swallow, you can’t even breathe, and your fucking skull just feels like it just can’t withstand the exploding emotions happening inside your head. This is the music of LOIA – an onslaught of blind, rabid rage made of blackened hardcore punk and crust that hits you like a fucking swarm of thorns, crashing through your eye sockets and passing through your skull with the brute force of a storm of bullets. Splintering shards of mauling powerviolence, echoing waves of Void and Siege-worshiping hardcore, crude and barbaric grindcore infested with black metal that separates flesh from bone with millisecond-long excavations of rage straight into the listener’s flesh. This is LOIA – uncontrolled hatred, unadulterated bitterness, and suffocating chaos that will rip your life to pieces."
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about

Many times we're indifferent to the violence that surround us, we're anesthetized by violence.
Like we've lost/forgotten any form of solidarity with other individuals.
We're completely detached from reality.

lyrics

Broken hands below this altar of stone.
Skinny faces, sunken in dust.
Will we be aloud to inhume them with stones.
Thorny faces, without piety.
They bury proves of evidence waiting for holy absolution.
A false plastic piety.
It remains only human flesh, waiting for the crows.
Dies in a tacit approval.

credits

from Nodo alla Gola, released November 19, 2015

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about

LOIA Florence, Italy

Andrea: urla
Camilla: bacchette
Stefano: corde

LOIA is the dirt that we all hold upon us, the one we'll never wash away, around our neck, behind our ears, the dirt from which we'll never get rid of. The one we are forced to live with as capitalism and time. We're consumed, corroded and devoured. ... more

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