883
Gli Anni

THE REVIEW

Again Kenny… … … . . Everything else is boring

The 883 is reviewing the 883 I said to myself, because Kenny I said to myself you must not be ashamed of your past, you wore out the 883 albums! You considered Max Pezzali a genius, yes, precisely with a capital G.

Already now they disgust me in the sense that I no longer consider them as I did before, but I cannot deny them.

Of the 883, I choose the years already … . because there's nothing better to evoke memories. Already, so many memories.

One particularly spins in my head, the middle school trips, those one-day trips that took you to see two churches and a museum, and you still had fun messing around with friends. Then, at the end, you got back on the bus and said to the driver… "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hurry up, put on the 883," yes, we always played an 883 cassette, and the best part was waiting for the swear word when it came, "damn," we'd cut it and felt important, cool in the true sense of the word. There was always that religion teacher who would stop the cassette and get angry like a beast, "but how dare you play these obscene cassettes"… . and yes, we emerged as rebels, something we eventually became, saying, "oh come on, the 883 are the best there is!"

Memories, however, we have no regrets! Sure, now I listen to other stuff, but I remember those times with pleasure, even with a bit of melancholy.

Bellaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa