Sun-drenched vineyards, ancient villas cradled in beautifully rolling hills, the splendors of Rome -- that's the impression one gets of Italy, at least from those Air Italia ads. ONQ posits a different country, though -- one where the international language of indie rock colors the landscape with darker undertones. Cathedral organs, minor chord guitars and mournful clarinet combine in this vision from La Spezia, Italy's Luca Galuppini to produce a short album of quiet beauty.

Galuppini has put in his time, making the rounds as both a solo artist and band member working in a variety of styles. (Given The Supreme Weight's folk-rock aspects, the best line in the artist bio has to be, "1994: I used to play in a Carcass-inspired grindcore act called Necrobestiality...") Vocals, guitar and synths are handled here by Galuppini, while OuZel Records head Mauro Costagli reinforces this one man band with accordia and intricate, jazz-influenced drumming, and Valerio Sartori plays clarinet on two tracks. For a home-recording (digital 8-track), The Supreme Weight sounds remarkably full: the guitars shimmer like 4AD bands of old, and the drums punch through with a smooth analog feel.

"Melancholy" best sums up the mood, and nowhere more so than in the opener, "Laugh Like a Clown", which hints at carnival music slowed down to an excruciating dirge. "The Supreme Weight" kicks a bit harder. The sad acoustic guitar on "Frigor" sounds like a cold winter's day. "Reset" turns in a brighter, more jangly direction, but the album bears out its title; these songs carry a heavy load, but avoid bogging down in a maudlin stupor.

A couple of the tracks ("Worst Woe", "Terminally") are Guided by Voices-like fragments, short bursts of melody that never quite congeal into sustained songs. The vocals are buried so deep in the mix that it's nearly impossible to figure out what Galuppini's lyrics might actually be about, even though he seems to be singing in English. Still, for many listeners, that's a positive trait. That The Supreme Weight relies more on mood than meaning -- just like those romanticized Air Italia ads -- can't dilute its dour charm.