I don’t like Heavy Metal, never really have. I do love Hardcore Punk, which to most ears is indecipherable, but they are completely different genres. Metal was always too abrasive and overly indulgent for me. It had just too many songs that are either growled or almost operatic in their vocals, about dark mythic narratives interspersed with unending guitar solos. There is some of this in Pecchio’s dark, foreboding, dense almost abstract landscapes, which are an apt metaphor for feeling angry and lost. At the same time I find nowhere to enter the work metaphorically or literally. It all makes me feel like I’m trapped in a car on the side of the highway staring out the window while someone smelling of cigarettes tells me how bad things have been going and I should really give Madden another listen because I’d really like it. I just wish I could get out and see more of the woods and fewer impenetrable walls of branches, and more light and, honestly, just less metal.
Through February 12th
Daniel Cooney Fine Art (511 W 25th St. Suite 506 Btw. 10th & 11th Aves.)
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