The Squid's Ear - by Darren Bergstein
Creative Sources is a label known for its versatility and generally uncompromising attitude, its artists given virtually free reign to explore, shapeshift and design what they wish at will. Italian guitarist Luca Mauri is no exception, although judging by the one-man show that is Between Love and Hate, one wishes he might have exercised a lot less caution and a lot more will. Credited with guitar, ride, snare, crash, and editing (and this recording demonstrates that a little editing, a process as vital and necessary as any other, goes a long way), Mauri's sometimes tense environments have a way of slowly insinuating themselves, like a sonic absinthe, deeply into your subconscious. It's improvisation as hypnotization, and for a respectable portion of this recording, acquits itself admirably. Much is prelude, little is release (except on the restrained thrash of "Choke"), and perhaps that was his intention — on face, Mauri wants to present within the boundaries of improv what popular music's icons attempt to convey with words.
Mauri, in fact, seems to want to position himself as an emotionalist within improv circles, a quality few might attribute to a genre so identified with abandon, freedom, nonconformity, and technical opacity. Mastered by fellow guitar processor Giuseppe Ielasi (who is himself fast becoming a ubiquitous facilitator on the scene), Between Love and Hate, shorn of some of its more abrasive moments, might have found a home on labels such as 12k or Last Visible Dog as much as Creative Sources. The opening track, "A Quiet Storm", is a case in point: Mauri's strings, backwards-masked loops, and crushed cymbals achieve an isolationist ambience that one might construe as anti-metal, stripped to its primal skeleton, left to decay in the night. "Decline of a Beautiful Lace" is, dare it be said, practically melodic — Mauri is obviously an adept guitarist, and this lovely little soliloquy, all minor key chords and late afternoon malaise, formally bridges whatever gap exists between the formalities of "pop" and folk-imbued improv. Then Mauri has to go and upset the apple cart completely by making his former "ghost metal" tendencies implicit on "Choke", a sub-industrial sturm und drang contextually unmoored from the disc's center. Redeemed by the spooky sepulchral textures of "All that Remains", Between Love and Hate resolves its ideals in a two-plus minute coda that finds Mauri painting his emotional middles within slowly decaying tinctures of black.
