''I can't exactly remember what really happened to me in January of 2003, and I don't exactly know what happened to my friend Eugenio in that cold month. I just remember that in the last few years, especially 2001, January has been a very awful month for me. It could seem almost ridiculous, but in each slice of my life, except maybe for work, everything was going bad: sickness, death and deep love troubles happened to me and all around. In 2002 and 2003 a lot of stress overwhelmed me, making me feel anxious and ill. Ever since, that first month of the year, which signifies beginning, change, hope and love for many other people, for me now means only fear. So, I started working on a ''cathartic'' song in February, about all of these things, putting in noises, phone sounds, distant drills and the melody of an old music box that plays a very sad melody. I talked about it on a music internet newsgroup, Oltre Il Suono, and a guy that I didn't know before replied to me, and told me ''Well Hue, it's the same for me: we are two!''. I asked him to join the project, proposing to make a split album together, about that first month of the year. He's Eugenio Maggi, aka Cría Cuervos, and he made a wonderful icy track starting from mine and from my samples. I heard it in August, and I finished my version with new samples from him in September. Finally we issued it, for now only through the web, thanks to our friends Adriano of Ctrl+Alt+Canc and Alberto of Sinewaves. I can only say thanks to you all, and to all the listeners."
released October 9, 2004
Project made between 27/01/2003 and 01/01/2004.
Sounds, samples and mix by Matteo Uggeri and Eugenio Maggi.
Originally published by ctrl+alt+canc and sine2pm.
supported by 6 fans who also own “The Coldest January”
it takes a while, but the cover art finally starts to make sense: the entire album has been a sort of slow-motion takeoff. that feeling in your gut, where your stomach starts floating as if it’s weightless; that’s what anthéne does best. the last few tracks explode in turbulent walls of sound, with the titular track and light shade edging on the cinematic. as if by leaving the ground your memories are already fraying miso