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Analog Bar Shop
Bernardino Femminielli "Mémoires d'un Auto-Sabotage" (COMING SOON)
Bernardino Femminielli "Mémoires d'un Auto-Sabotage" (COMING SOON)
✅ sofort-lieferbar – versandfertig
Prix habituel
CHF 35.00
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CHF 35.00
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KH062 / Knekelhuis / 2026 / Vinyl / COMING SOON
| A1 | Raconte-Moi Ton Histoire |
| A2 | On N'Accepte Rien, Mais On Se Laisse Faire |
| A3 | Dolce Vita |
| A4 | Disco Polizei |
| A5 | Cruising Corazon |
| B1 | Le Léopard Meurt Avec Ses Tâches |
| B2 | Christophe Colomb |
| B3 | Boudoir de l'Eternité |
| B4 | Messe Européenne |
Bernardino Femminielli - Messe Europeene
"I don’t understand Bernardino. He seems to take pleasure in sabotaging himself."
"Or maybe I’m simply refusing to play the game someone else wrote for me?"
Memoirs of Self-Sabotage unfolds as a musical drift: fragments written and recorded on tour between France and Italy, shaped by precariousness, administrative tension, loss, and paranoia. The tracks emerge like scenes from a psychological film noir—a distorted discotheque of monologues, songs, skits, and anachronisms—where the voice oscillates between seduction and rupture.At its core lies a troubling insight: the most insidious exploitation is that of one’s own intimacy. As emotions and desires become commodities, the project resists absorption. Each track becomes a site of desertion—refusing roles, codes, and systems of control, even those posing as critique. Alliances blur, betrayals loom; lucidity tips into paranoia.Warped echoes of nostalgia, cinematic layers, voices in tension: the music becomes an unstable space, a laboratory of drift and survival. Neither record, manifesto, nor autobiography, it unfolds as a mental disco where desire, fear, and self-sabotage coexist.
"Or maybe I’m simply refusing to play the game someone else wrote for me?"
Memoirs of Self-Sabotage unfolds as a musical drift: fragments written and recorded on tour between France and Italy, shaped by precariousness, administrative tension, loss, and paranoia. The tracks emerge like scenes from a psychological film noir—a distorted discotheque of monologues, songs, skits, and anachronisms—where the voice oscillates between seduction and rupture.At its core lies a troubling insight: the most insidious exploitation is that of one’s own intimacy. As emotions and desires become commodities, the project resists absorption. Each track becomes a site of desertion—refusing roles, codes, and systems of control, even those posing as critique. Alliances blur, betrayals loom; lucidity tips into paranoia.Warped echoes of nostalgia, cinematic layers, voices in tension: the music becomes an unstable space, a laboratory of drift and survival. Neither record, manifesto, nor autobiography, it unfolds as a mental disco where desire, fear, and self-sabotage coexist.
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