One can glean the topic from the title, but an aura of foreboding is found throughout. Bracketing the album with choral tracks “Exodus Mandala” and “The Skype Cloud And Your Smile On The Left”, Aldinucci presents a mini-symphony akin to his theatre works. Borders, once fluid, are hardening. Opportunities and offerings are shrinking. Xenophobia is on the rise. One might hear the album’s dark drones as representations of fear and prejudice from one angle, betrayal and disappointment from the other. It’s easy to imagine masses of people straining against metal grates as nervous officers thumb their safeties. As to the voices ~ whisperings, murmurs, shaded conversations ~ the implication is of hidden motives and ambivalent hearts.
Aldinucci understands all this, seeing darkness at the end of the tunnel, ruins at the end of the path. Yet he has also seen and captured the value of diversity, included here as field recordings taken from his travels throughout Europe. The beauty of sonic souvenirs lies in contrast with the stagnancy of restricted visas. Shall the oppressed never escape their distress? Shall the privileged retain the ability to close their eyes to suffering, glad that it’s “not happening here”? On this album, Aldinucci acts as prophet, reluctantly sharing a bleak, dystopian vision. Yet in the center of the set, he also offers a prayer. Through the rain, and at the end, the choir still sings. Light chimes decorate the closing minutes. For now, what has been closed can still be opened. (Richard Allen)