Perhaps I’m a product of a
certain time, but whenever I hear the word “Ayatollah,” I immediately think to
the secretly mohawked caricature at the beginning of the first Naked Gun movie, an utterly classic film
(casual Zucker brother political incorrectness aside) – don’t ever let anyone
tell you otherwise. There are very few gags, sight or otherwise, to be found
with this Ayatollah, however, the
Colombian noise artist Luis Felipe Henao Bustamante, aka Filipo Laresca. This Ayatollah is as humorless as a
heavy black turban resting appropriately in place. This Ayatollah is ready to grate the scalp from your head, not
adorn the hair thereupon with spiking wax or Manic Panic.
On Monoambiente Insalubre, the sense of
dis-ease begins quickly and sustains itself throughout. Ayatollah warps
frequencies and piles them on in unsustainable quantities and at unreasonable
volumes, intent to crush your head with the power of sound alone. It nearly
succeeds – my only escape was to reach for the volume knob to turn it down, but
that seems like an easy out for anyone; for me, I happened to be testing Monoambiente Insalubre inside a sonic
chamber within a secret lab beneath a disused nuclear silo at an undisclosed
location. Turning down the volume literally did save my life. It may also save
yours, but if you’re not, like me, a scientist working on clandestine projects,
you’re probably already in a lot less danger.
So, maybe, turn it up?
So, maybe, turn it up?
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