Area
1978: Gli dei se ne vanno, gli arrabbiati restano!

Poor things, in '77 they thought they had made the revolution, but instead they only made crappy music. They wanted to shake up the music scene, which cashes in and responds with tons of albums that with just one song screw the entire punk discography from '77 to 2020. Because there's nothing to do about it, four daft kids convinced they are rebels when they were simply lazy failures, to some people, they only deserve to give big and passionate slobbery blowjobs.

1978, the truly angry, the real rebels, the people with balls swinging between their dicks and their assholes, tell off any miserable attempt to overshadow what makes musicians great: The Music.

Punk is just one thing: an insult to music.

Do you realize that those poor idiots claim to make music without knowing how to do it, without having ideas... just to be able to scream at the top of their lungs: FUCK YOU!
But couldn't they go to the stadium instead of spewing nonsense? Or better yet, couldn't they make music instead of vomiting senseless crap into a microphone? But no, otherwise, they wouldn't be people, instead, as I said above, they are idiots.

Nobody can get it out of my head, punk is just a poor and banal version of Rock for kids: it's simpler, all the same, and thus easy to absorb, and directed to be understood even by the smallest and tenderest children, and especially the ignorant. The Zecchino d'oro is the only one to have taken hits from punk, it's the only one to have suffered from its influence, music hasn't even been touched by those poor idiots.

1978: sweeping away any attempt to tarnish good music was very simple, just sit down and make a record. This is a good album for being by AREA, certainly not the best but without a doubt, it screws any punk record, from the first to the last, including the ones in between. Five stars just for the concept that sends all punk to hell.
The fools make punk? Area responds with FFF, Acrostico in Memoria di Laio, Interno Con Figure & Luci, Ici On Dance!, Vodka Cola, and that chubby blonde I never remember what the hell her name is, hosts a nice program: Little Punks. Or was it Little Fans? No no, it was definitely Little Punks, how tender, how cute, poor little frustrated failures, they evoke much tenderness. Who does Stratos refer to in Acrostico in Memoria di Laio when he talks about poor young people raised badly in this bad society? Who, eh?
Well, I have a little idea. The Gods Leave, the Angry Ones Remain; They remain from the '60s, those of '77 were only the latest arrivals, the kids: poor idiots angry with mom and dad.
But go play in the garden for a bit, come on. The Area tells you with a smile, but go to the garden and don't mess with the music.

We don't want to dance commercial, tough, bad...
Pro-gre-ssive.
Come on punk kids, sing with Stratos: ...tattàùùùù....tattàùùùù...tattàùùùùù...tattàùùùùù...