There’ not a lot of descriptive information attached to this LP from Teisco, and all it takes is one listen to understand why. What can you say about this bizarre beast from an obscure corner in the dark dusty vaults of Italian library music? It sounds nothing like his previous Musiche De Teisco, also recently reissued on Dual Planet. It’s more fully electronic, slightly frenetic, with drum machines, processed guitars and soaring synths. Yet everything feels just a little off, still cohesive yet simultaneously off kilter. It’s possibly due to the preset beats with an uncomfortably high tempo, yet this kind of manic insanity is also part of its charm. It’s still clearly the work of one man, yet that man is seriously warped, equally steeped in unknowing kitsch and electronic experimentation masquerading as mild mannered library music.
Teisco, aka Rimauri, aka Marco Melchiori, has a unique ability to make even the strangest music sound logical, to progress in a very musical way and make you forget this is very odd music. The question has to be asked though, what kind of production would use this music? Because whatever it is, you’ll want to see it.
There are elements of baroque, of Italian film music, of 80′ pop, but it’s all filtered through Teisco’ idiosyncratic view on the world. In the main it sounds like crazy clown music, a zany over the top electro frenzy. Yet not always, as keeping the same ingredients, even the same key, simply by slowing the tempo he manages to repeatedly craft heart wrenchingly mournful bubblegum tomes. 8-bit tugs at the heartstrings. The kind of music you’d hear at a smurf funeral.
The strange thing is that it doesn’ appear that Teisco is going for laughs per se, there are no cheap music in jokes, and it doesn’ feel silly for the sake of silliness, its just that there’ a certain cumulative ludicrousness after the fourth or fifth upbeat number. On side B Teisco is much more melancholic, reducing the tempo and crafting beautiful mournful melodies. The final two pieces are positively sombre, where he gets all droney, layering dark atmospheres to create the kind of warmth in the darkness that would make David Lynch’ sound designer blush.
D.O.C. is a freakishly obscure library record from the 80′, lovingly restored in its entirety by Dual Planet. It’s rare to hear such an insane synth curio that simultaneously manages to be experimental and weird yet has you unconsciously tapping you toes. File alongside Yellow Magic Orchestra, Devo, and Vangelis, but not too close, put D.O.C. a little further to left, a little nearer to your outsider music section.
