Pietro has always had a recognizable musical identity, and Kimia continues that evolution. Framed as the transformational companion to Alba, the album explores ideas of refinement, reaction, and metamorphosis. Things I personally condone. Maybe a bit of transmutation, calcination, dissolution. With a dash of chrysalis entropy and sprinkles of coagulative esoteric conjunction. I don’t know what I am saying anymore. But his thread throughout is subtle and a bit pensive.

From the opening moments, you're immediately met with swarm vintage synth textures, tight chord structures, thoughtful arrangements, and polished engineering. I am usually jealous of his Logic skills. Or maybe Lucky Recording comes to the rescue. I will ask next time we chat who and what. The production is consistently clean without feeling sterile, and the songs are filled with little musical details—background vocals, instrumental bridges, tasteful solos, unexpected harmonic turns, and carefully layered textures—that reward repeat listens. Clean technical delivery lisa kudos…per uzshhh.

One thing I've always appreciated about Pietro's writing is that you'll hear fun referential echoes of artists. I mean, a quick read will catch Radiohead's emotional tension, Beck's looseness, The Beatles' melodic complexity, XTC's cleverness, maybe touches of The Replacements, Morrissey, or Bob Mould—but they feel less like influences being worn on the sleeve and more like ingredients that have been absorbed into his own songwriting voice. My guess, from knowing Pietro, is that some are on purpose and some are just coincidental, parallel outcroppings, given the genres explored. But all hovering daintily and quizzically around the mothership. Like Quazimoto. No, not like him. Like…Like…curious moon ghost butterflies bouncing in and out, saying hi to us like little Bugs Bunnys. "Eh... what's up p p p, Doc? Eh... Eh what's up up, Da Da Da Doc? What's at’s at’s at’s at’swhat's what's up Doc? Referential donut sprinkles and not just the bi-color version. The whole palette. But without overreach. I run with just about anything for a lil bit. Relevance is relative today anyway. I am here to take names and name takes.

There are several standouts. "Fantastic Bubbles" opens with fresh Moog textures before unfolding into one of the album's strongest choruses, complete with a wonderfully tasteful synth solo and a spongey, playful arrangement that reminds me of some of Ween's best pop instincts. "And the Rainbows" benefits tremendously from its faster treatment compared to earlier versions I've heard and made music videos for. Side note: I buried Pietro up to his neck in a dirt pile on a super ghetto Oakland beach for a student video project. Although I was not a student, more like one of those older people attending the classes but sans the class, and I’m just doing it for exploratory fun. The beach was the one with found object debris sculptures all over. Like a Apalacian cousin of Burning Man beach. Sometimes, like the voodoo stuff in True Detective season I. Like a creative bridge troll that only comes out at night when the acid hits and he makes these Linda Barry-style cruddy DIY sculptures and spraypaints rocks and tags trees and shit. And you will find, like the remnants of a low-key beach cook of some NBOMes. This mood and energy give it a classic power-pop feel while preserving the emotion at its center. Although the music does not really represent the beach at all. Just that I buried him alive once. While his dog barked at me, wondering who the fuck I thought I was and how could I. Me and that dog never saw eye to eye, but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Cute he was. Muzzled he was not. I call it tough love. And had I had more time with him. Some time alone, I would have charmed him like I charm all bitchy cats that are dogs that think they are larger dogs and/or bigger cats. I hypnotize them with my animal humor. I’ll riff Harbor Seal and imitate a Capybara Raven until I have the fucker rolling on the ground dying with laughter. Which, for a dog, sounds exactly the same as his anger barks. How can I tell the difference, you may ask? I meant that as a statement. You can ask. Not my job to tell you now how I know this secret. But believe you me, he was dying on the floor, gasping for breath and... wetting his pants. That is how I know I’ve succeeded. My secrets are now yours.

I was never sure what the narrative of that music video was. That the subject should be buried for some reason. In broad daylight at a beach. Where the water would presumably wash his body back up to the surface at high tide and have him floating around where the cops would eventually find him. Not sure, but it did look cool. He was digging the hole himself as well. So it was like he was burying himself in front of his dog? Camera duct taped to end of shovel for the shot. Possibly the entire music video hinged on just wanting to perform this camera-operator task. Artists eh? Who knows. They follow these wild instincts, ask questions later, take no prisoners, and get sensitive if you criticize them. Not me though. I can take it. This video was us experimenting and just doing whatever felt cool, fun, or weird. Which is to say, that it was super cool and ruled no matter what. We was riffing and being artists because that is what we did all the time, and we had similar goals: to fuck around and find out. I liked Pietro enough to give his dog a pass. And because I knew he would eventually be my guy too. The dog that is. P.S. He never was. Fucker moved away with Pietro. Not that I didn’t move first, though. I did. And this was not because of Pietro’s dog. His dog’s name was Chawncey. aka White Diesel. aka Senior Wiggles. aka Pugnatious Lugubrious. aka Gilbert Gottfried.

"Girl With a Dog" may be my favorite track. The Beck-like vocal attitude immediately caught my attention, while the chorus, layered harmonies, and vivid storytelling make it one of those songs that instantly makes another songwriter want to learn it. I can already hear my messy, distorted Flaming Lips delay guitar soling over this but then getting lost in the not very complicated chord changes that, for me, are probably too complicated to play without months of practice. See how I always bring it back to me? This is the only way it happens. My lens, my review, my speed. Fast and loose. Riffin. As if I am a music video producer. Which I am not. But I did pretend to be that guy for a bit. I did ok a few times. Editing does get tedious, and I like other forms of art better. Like acting. Just kidding, I don’t like acting. But more so because I can’t do it and have never had the balls to try. I also enjoyed hearing Pietro step slightly outside his usual vocal approach while still sounding unmistakably like himself. We are all actors anyway. In these meat body suits. Pretending we aren’t one giant, undulating dark-matter pusverse. Not Pussvrse. If only eh? Maybe some live there. I used there, but now I’m working in construction; it is more of a dickverse day-to-day type vibe. Music video artist was more of the "12 half-nude girls running around" type of life. While no one ever batted an eye or acknowledged that fact because everyone was too cool for school. Essentially squandering a perfectly good grab your male friend and like shake him while looking at him and both of you just like melting at the fact that you are in that room with all those hot girls who are generously granting you their nude bodies. Like, that is more fun during those moments than just pretending like you don’t care. Ew, creepy Brice. Yeah? How about more fun. Back in my day (Old man speech incomingggggg), we used to have fun, flirt, and even make out in bathrooms, under stages, or in groups of people in public. It did not matter because the people were turned on. It was more fun than being too artistic. That said, I was probably aging out of that room by that time, so no wonder. Meanwhile, I’m like 24 in my head and same. Time is a muther fucker. “No man, pus, like the stuff that comes out of zits.” I reluctantly digress. Or do I have that opposite? Puss is puss, and Pus is the slang for female Gragailia??? I am out of my depth and have no time to go back and edit this now; by the way, this is the 10th direct camera glance so far. I glance my own glances as directed by this simulation piece. Ok, I did just look all that up on GPT, and it turns out my instincts are always correct. pause

"The Ditch" explores spacious textures with excellent drum programming and some of Pietro's signature chord movement, while "Warmachine" builds from an intimate acoustic opening into one of the album's heavier emotional peaks. Throughout the record, there are countless little musical decisions that keep things engaging: background "oohs," unexpected bridge sections, tasteful guitar work, subtle production flourishes, and careful arrangement choices that reveal themselves over multiple listens. Get back to work, Brice. Stay frosty and keep the review on the table. You only get 2-3 more tangents left in ya.

Players including Joe Gore, Eric McFadden, Angeline Saris, Mark Stoermer, Kaden Owens, and Lee Sayer contribute to the record's depth, but the album remains unmistakably Pietro's artistic vision from beginning to end. They are the usual characters, always up for some music, in different forms. Those guys have a few different bands up and running. Pietro continues refining a very specific corner of melodic alternative rock and guitar-driven pop, gradually sharpening his songwriting and production over years of work and with Elettrodomestico and the other bands.

It was also nice hearing Pietro's new chapter in life quietly find its way into the record. If I'm not mistaken, his partner contributes vocals on a few tracks, and her presence feels less like a featured guest and more like another color added to the palette. It suits the album's themes of transformation and gives parts of Kimia an added warmth without drawing attention away from Pietro's central vision. I could be wrong, and maybe she came after? Or before? Or during? Or still in the future, and for now she is just a dream? Not sure really. Not enough data. Filling in the blanks really. Did I just bust Pietro for musically cheating? Is musical cheating a thing? Can one be a musical slut? If so, I am probably one. Tossing it out for like any old genre even when it doesn’t seem to fit. I’d do it anyway. Pietro indeed seems much more musically monogamous than I Indeed. Cherio then, old chap.

If I had one overall observation, it's simply that Kimia favors subtle craftsmanship over dramatic reinvention. It confidently inhabits its own musical world. For listeners who appreciate intelligent songwriting, polished production, memorable melodies, swave delivery, and thoughtful arrangements rooted in classic alternative and power pop, there's plenty to enjoy.

The abstract artwork complements the music perfectly. Like the album itself, it suggests transformation without spelling everything out. The cover reminds me of an old music video artist who did cartoon videos for, like, Antony and the Johnsons. Andrea Saltini & Gruppo Kobaiashy, which was an obscure Italian experimental art collective active in the early-to-mid 2000s, producing multimedia and video works rather than commercial films.

Overall, Kimia is another confident, well-crafted chapter in Pietro Straccia's catalog. One thing is for certain: one day we will make some music together telepathically once they invent the brain wormhole, and it will be instantly distributed to everyone’s eardrums, like when U2 uploaded their album to everyone’s iPod back in the day. Da fuck is this? We all asked. I guess I like U2. Then they went and showed up in Sacha Baron Cohen's Brünohe, earnestly belting out the intentionally ridiculous charity anthem "Dove of Peace" alongside Elton John, Sting, Chris Martin, Snoop Dogg, and Slash……. The whole sequence was….. tone-deaf. Whether Bono was in on every layer of the joke (my guess is no?) or simply game for the bit, I remember watching it thinking, "Oh no..." It remains one of the more surreal intersections of sincerity and satire in pop culture. RIP pre-popularity & office culture lingo Sacha era. “mah wivfe”

But our album with my SunnO))) doom drone reverbetarded echo beast parts backing one of Pietro's clear-thinking art projects won’t be a joke like U2 was on Bruno. lower case chocolate and peanut butter baby. Because the Borg will be programmed to force our songs into the hivebrains. All will hail. So it won’t really matter even if we suck. If we do, it will be my fault. Noise music rarely sucks or is great. It mostly occupies. I am, I was. Is am. But mark my words, there will be blood. And black metal is in Pietro's future. If it kills me/us. You can’t run. Or hide, man. Dog will hunt. In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, long ago. — Christina Rossetti (1872)