A small fart, flatulence, toot, bronza, fart or loffia, call it what you want.
It lives its own life, just long enough to invade your nostrils and make you wonder who owned it and why they decided to release it right next to you.
Generally, it doesn’t matter much, sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes it changes your life without you knowing.
Embarrassing situations.
Situations where you notice something gets stuck. A small and insignificant detail, or enormous and decisive?
I don't know how to answer, I pose this question to you dear de-users. I limit myself to making you aware, so you can make a judgment guided only by your neurons (I know, we're in bad shape…).
This was my first review on the coolest site on the internet, the Algeris with There is no years, released in January 2020. On the cover, a man falling from a building. A few days later, we faced the most incredible year ever experienced by each of us.
Heroes on the couch.
We will make it.
We will emerge better…
This time on the cover a (sad?) wolf bites a chain (is it freeing itself?) on a cold winter day, “SHOOK” and seven dense lines of guests.
Incidentally, the album was released in February 2023, a stylized wolf is the emblem of the Ukrainian special forces (SSO). The Russian invasion is from February 2022…
Coincidence? A little fart? A prediction with a year delay? Who can say, certainly making posthumous predictions is much easier.
In fact, this is where the donkey stumbles.
The Algeris were on the verge of breaking up, then they invited a slew of guests to tackle this record. Some good, others less so. Nonetheless, the immediate effect is the sensation that this is NOT an Algeris record, but of a broader “ensemble”. Franklin James Fisher sings little and no longer captivates (me) with his voice. I immediately notice that getting through almost 55 minutes of the album is tiring, there are dozens of references, samples from many artists, sermons, black power, less soul and gospel, more hip-hop and punk.
Too much stuff?
No, but something bothers me. A little toot?
Album to listen to from the beginning with Everybody Shetter to the end, passing through the angry punk of “A good man” and “Something wrong” and the industrial gospel of “Green iris”.
The rest flows away, or rather evaporates like a small loffia.
Album of the year for the Venerable Master, so at this point tell me where I'm wrong!
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