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Rating: Deep down, you've never really been a normal person, Johnny.
You attended a high school that was the haven of Ganja, shots in the bathroom, the sweetish smell of smoke wafting through the halls.
But that stuff never interested you, you, budding Straight Edge, little bourgeois punk, all soft fury and department store electric bass machesembratantounfender. You, always preaching the values of your oxymoronic ideology, always ready to belt out hits by the Ramones, The Clash, Minor Threat in front of the school gates, along with a few other bourgeois punks like you and under the eyes of an understanding bartender and a crowd of reggae and Bobbe Malle fans who start to think that you, deep down, are a little crazy. You who claim to be punk, yet hate every genre of Pop, yet sympathize with Sabbath and Zeppelin, yet go home and light candles at improbable altars dedicated to Syd Barrett, Ray Manzarek, David Brock.
You, Johnny, have never been normal.
So why are you surprised if you're struck "on the road to Damascus" when listening to this album, its artificial medieval melodies, its being so blatantly self-indulgent and self-serving? Why do you love the sound of these songs, in the language of D'Oc, D'Oil, D'Oliv or whatever the hell it's called? Why does it seem like you sense magic in these incomprehensible lyrics that talk about Madonnas while you're always there swearing because "cursing is cool, it's PUNK, it's PORCAMAD*NNA"? Why, when your friend asks "What are you listening to?" while the refined interweaving of instruments unfolds in your ears, do you answer "Rise Against, smooth as water"?
You've always been strange, Johnny, yet you've always been able to explain your tastes... but not this time. You love all the roc, only the roc, only "the real one" as they say, in all its meanings. Yet you like "Futuro Antico," and you don't know why. But don't worry, you're 16, you have all of school ahead of you, your bourgeois punk friends, mild violence like you, lots of music to listen to, and plenty of time to find an answer to your questions.
Tonight you're 21... only 5 years have passed, only a lifetime has passed. And you've listened to a lot of music.
You play "Futuro Antico" again, you still like it and you still don't know why.
You're really strange Johnny, maybe too strange even for yourself.
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Apologies if I went on excessively in this non-review that sounds more like a human (self)portrait than the description of an album, which, by the way, is quite nice and which I highly recommend even to those who have tastes diametrically opposed to what Brando offers. I hope in time I will manage to channel myself on the right tracks of DeBaser. Who knows... maybe with a review of Dream Theater ;)
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
07 Scarborough Fair (03:02)
quando andrai a scarborough fair
salvia, menta, prezzemolo e timo
tu porta il segno del mio rimpianto
alla donna che allora io amavo
vorrei in dono una camicia di lino
salvia, menta, prezzemolo e timo
tu dille che non voglio ricami
ma che sappia che ancora io l'amo
per me basta un acro di terra
salvia, menta, prezzemolo e timo
quella casa tra il mare e le dune
e la donna che allora io amavo
torner� a coltivare i miei campi
salvia, menta, prezzemolo e timo
e distese di erica in fiore
perch� sappia che ancora io l'amo
08 Calenda Maia (02:54)
Calenda maia Ni fu�hls de faia, Ni chans d'auz�l Ni flors de glaia Non es que'm plaia, Pros d�na gaia Tro qu'un isn�l Messatgi�r aia Del v�ste b�l C�rs, qu'im retraia Plazer nov�l Qu'amors m'atraia E jaia E'm traia Vas vos, D�mna veraia, E chaia De plaia 'L gel�s, Anz que'm n'estraia. Ma b�l'amia, Per Dieu non sia Que ja'l gelos De mon dan ria, Que car vendria Sa gelosia, Si aitals dos Amantz partia; Qu'ieu ja joi�s Mais non seria, Ni jois ses vos Pro no'm tenria; Tal via Faria Qu'�ms ja Mais no'm veiria; Cel dia Morria, D�mna Pros, qu'ie'us perdria. D�mna grazida, Quecs lauz'e crida V�stra valor Qu'es abelida, E qui'us oblida, Pauc li val vida, Per qu'ie us azor, D�mn' eissernida; Quar per gencor Vos ai chausida E per melhor, De pr�tz complida, Blandida, Servida Gens�s Qu'Erecs Enida Bastida, Finida, N'Engl�s, Ai l'estampida.
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