April 2006 A.C. It happened during one of my several roaming through the Selinunte archeological area (650 B.C. – 409 B. C.). I reached the summit of the Gaggera hill, where lies the Malophoros Sanctuary, that eldritch worshipping site dedicated to the goddess Demeter – the place where Greek settlers used to make their bloody animal sacrifices, the place where silent funeral processions briefly stopped before taking their dead down to the Manicalunga necropolis. Right here, near the central altar, I found a small, half torn book. It seemed very, very old: several pages were badly damaged or missing. Still it was possible to read something: it was the story of an ancient people, whose origins were shrouded in mystery. They had a name but it is better not to reveal it: at the end of the XI century B.C. they could be found in the Western regions of current Nigeria but there are stories about their earlier arrival from across the great sea and the Peruvian Andes. They surely had incredible astronomical and mathematical notions. On the occasion of carefully calculated astral conjunctions, they practiced complex dancing rituals and musical ceremonies, with the entire tribe falling into a state of apparent death. Waking up, some members were mysteriously gone, never to be found again. In a small number of years this entire society disappeared into thin air. The last ceremony was held in the year 1092 B.C. The few found exhibits all carry the same four numbers: 2,0,9 and 5.
Fluorescent and hallucinogenic, Lay Llamas’ sonic brew flows down the same space and time paths, caught somewhere between syncretic spirituality and sidereal forest sounds, imaginary exoticism and venerable sonic artisans. Slow, rhythmic march of ancient warriors patrolling unknown planets in search of new, miraculous rivers: SPACE JUNGLE MANTRA.
Nicola Giunta/LAY LLAMAS