Carlos Santana
All That I Am

SANT'ANNA
Mother of the Blessed Virgin Mary, protector of lost souls, mineral waters, and guitarists at their wit's end.

ChristSant.. ana, I find it increasingly difficult to review albums that I fundamentally don't give a damn about and I know I'll NEVER listen to, and it already annoys me to waste just those 3/4 minutes to type "Santana all that" into the search engine and press "enter" for the download.
It also happens, not infrequently, that the same engine responds autonomously, as it did last night when I found the phrase "va-bene-tutto-ma-sto-disco-no-te-prego" on the screen, signed by the Limewire 4.9 system.

After a quick exchange with the system that "refused" to proceed with the download and after vigorous open-hand slaps landed on the desk to try to convince the Mac 5 not to persist, finally last night I received the entire latest album from the now completely daft curly-haired American guitarist. "Latest" (apparently) in chronological terms since, not content, the minstrel of Moonflower, Europa, etc. seems to be working on churning out another "bullshit" always after discovering the golden hen (the formula would be: duets & remixes among the most disparate musicians/session players/vips of both relevant and irrelevant circles).
It starts from South American rhythms up to Pop, dance, and then to Funky, and then back to South American rhythms, in short… a hodgepodge of genres, influences, and styles which, if in other cases could be a real plus, in this album makes us exclaim a resounding: ESTICAZZI?! And the easy-listening? And the new age? And the waltz? And the Argentine tango? And the salsa snacks? What's wrong with them not even being given a glance?

In short, let's forget the "old" Santana full of pathos and ideas (without overdoing it, eh? he's certainly not a genius, this guy…), let's forget his Mediterranean and driven guitar, the one from about 15 years ago… in this overblown pop-laden commercial confection with a soul & funky sprinkling, the guitar is barely audible and what little is audible only makes us long for the good old times (just in the first two tracks and the last three, there are crumbs of "that Santana" but here we enter the Micro World of the Micro Craze of die-hard Santana fans, of which frankly, we couldn't care less… right?!).

"Just Feel Better" is perhaps the least-worst track (here Steven Tyler's voice from Aerosmith seems to be wildly fondling little Carlos's guitar, making us at times part of a tryst that seems almost real, even if one of the two is definitely faking).
"All that I am (not)", as the title says "Isn't what IS Santana" or rather "what IS NOW Santana" but "not what was in the past" or the Santana of our collective imagination… in short, in simple words: I prefer the old Santana to this Mediterranean-style crap, neither meat nor fish (apologies to the vegetarians for mentioning these last offensive words).
Oh yes, there are also the bulls**t of "I am somebody" made by Will I am and played with the Black Eyed Peas or the tracks sung by Joss Stone and Sean Paul or those made together with the semi-unknowns Bo Bice, Anthony Hamilton, Michelle Branch, Bela Lugosi and Napo OrsoCapo, but there's no point in mutually jerking off with sterile judgments on this or that: THE ALBUM IS NOT THERE and what remains in our hands is a weak yellowed photocopy (like the cover) of something that would like to resemble Santana but which Santana (not the capital S) in fact is not.

Now, if someone provides me with a Benelli Argo Comfortech® with silencer and everything necessary, I can even do the dirty work of eliminating it for you, physically, from circulation for the good of all (after all, just two well-placed shots between the curls and fear is gone!!!).
But please - don't ask me to do it all alone, because:
1) I don't have time to waste
2) I don't want to get my hands and shirt sweaty
3) whether the curly-haired one still makes albums or not DOESN'T change my life
3) I don't even have the breath to make the 20 floors necessary to reach the roof of the building to take the shot.
So… if someone provides it all and brings it to my doorstep, I can make this last effort for this Righteous Punitive Cause, but don't ask me for anything more. I'm too old for this crap…