Envision, if you will, an ancient city as it was being constructed. Maybe something Mesopotamian, built long before engineers with the power of virtual design software at their disposal, before massive load haulers, pneumatic cranes, Ditch Witches, laser levels, etc. Who then was the builder of cities? With only the power of many (likely indentured) hands, a designer would have had to construct something from the ground up - both in material and idea. Roman sound manipulator Andrea Di Carlo is the modern equivalent of that designer. With only a handful of modern tools and his own ideas about musical architecture, he seeks to build musical cities much larger than himself under the moniker French Teen Idol.
For a man alone, Di Carlo presents an impressive view from the moment you set foot inside his massive city. With aural glitch stutters and gorgeous synthetic backgrounds he creates a picturesque beginning to an experience that seems impossible to have been created by only one set of hands. The entrance grows from these simple roots into a more complex form that wanders peacefully for several minutes. A nearly flawless post-rock intro, except that no team constructed this, and knowing of the singular designer behind El Siete Es la Luz creates a sort of confusion of the senses.
The designer states that, along with his normal set of tools, he’s used a more extensive guitar backing than in his other creations. Its addition is again stunning and nearly perfect in execution, evidenced by the introduction into “I Want George Soros". Nowhere in his design is the creator’s skill more blatantly obvious than here, a section so ambitious it creates its own province. What strikes the ears for six minutes could have been constructed from a blueprint with an Alfred Hitchcock-level of attention to detail, planned out from raw materials by the second. A steady stream of high-pitched guitar wails and addictive drum kicks are soon drowned out by remarkably well-done background hymn vocals. From the second minute onward, they resemble something more cinematic than any solo project should logically be. Modern tools, indeed.
El Siete Es la Luz is meant to be riddle both in name and experience. The meaning of this city’s name has been left up to the individual. “War is Kind” and “Fragile Chords” give justification: both are as mysterious as they are unique. Any experience can only have so many heartwrenching moments, Paris can only have so many towers, and so also do these tracks more pleasantly wander along with the wanderer to prevent an overwhelming of the senses.
This reflects the skill of Di Carlo at creating an impressive facade around every corner of his creation. His patience is clear as the listener’s path slowly opens up once again into grandiosity during the walk through the “Last Train to Santiago”. Here again the designer’s skill is clear through use of repetition rather than reckless ambition; the same essential elements are contained in these, the more mammoth of his creations. An effervescent guitar line is strung between the windows of buildings created by fast-paced toe-tap drums. Without overdoing it, the sound of a steam engine on tracks mixes with a pained vocal reverb to paint the walls.
The exit from this walled expanse of noise consists of seventeen minutes over two tracks. Despite the size of the overall experience, this exit comes entirely too soon; it’s difficult to imagine your exit is from the same place from which you came. The journey along was similar enough in scope and material, but somehow in its crafting you never once got bored with the architecture. As the final and beautiful “Prendre Son Temps” ambles past your view you sadly leave this place that you already know you’ll return to many times…
-Brendan Kraft