Colle Der Fomento
ODIO PIENO

How to describe Odio Pieno, the first official album by the complete Taverna Ottavo Colle, from the Rome Zoo, Del Funkunknown (aka Fà Un Cannon), the Funkadelici quattro, the Tre Cafoni plus Fat Bobba?
Ignorance, arrogance, vanity, rudeness, commonplaces and nonsense phrases, applied to a technique and knowledge of sound production close to zero.
No innovation, nothing that hasn't been done before, just a rehash of the usual clichés, the usual things seen at the Brklen zoo for twenty-five years now.
Monotonous, slow.
This is Odio Pieno, which as you have certainly understood, is one of my favorite CDs.

Let’s avoid talking about it as a cornerstone, an absolute masterpiece in its genre, an indelible mark left on the Italian scene, a huge pearl of Funkarap 'merecani included, let’s avoid that.

Raw, rough, rude, "ignorantly wise", this is the funk coming from the Pincio of the mid-nineties, this is the sound that moved the masses, (eh hell yes, it moved the masses) this is the sound of excitement. If you're looking for stylistic finesse, if you're looking for Ferrari & champagne, 'nnatevene a pijà dù mazzi demmerda, qui nuncenestà. This is the ultimate level of communication, or if we want the first, anyway, it's an extreme, whether it's a final point or a starting point. Ice One La Beffa & Il Danno, from scrausi above the hill, rest assured there are none.

Whether talking about the meaning of life, politics, the cops, or just singing for the sake of singing, the level is always the same, down to earth. A torpedo.
A torpedo doesn't make a scene, a torpedo doesn't cause a stir, a torpedo goes straight no matter what, but when you realize it hit you, it’s already nice and straight up your ass.
The taste is always the same, and maybe that’s why you prefer Colle Der Fomento to the rest.

Once I read (no, not the dog, "I read"; no, not "I dog", I... well, who cares) that to make yourself understood in modern society you would only need 20% of the vocabulary contained in the Italian dictionary, I have the idea that whoever stated this might be a fan of the eighth hill. If the beat is fat and the bass groovy, if the microphone is hot and the crowd freaks out, then you’re listening to the colle, nuncesòcazzi.

We spend our days dressing up concepts and thoughts with so many nice words, well researched and springtime fragrant, that it looks more like a Christmas gift than a thought; Before saying how we feel, we carefully probe the ground on which we converse for fear of creating controversy, we always try to mitigate and sweeten everything. Dammit, for once, let’s say things as they are, straightforward, carbonara & wine, if I have to tell you to go fuck yourself, I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself, and I’ll make it clear, I won't dance around it.
The same difference that lies between a "I'm sorry, I don't agree with your statements, even if they're understandable" and "Hey, what the hell are you saying, see 'bout leaving", is the same difference that lies between an Italian songwriter talking about his daily reality and the eighth hill, even if talking about the same things.

If you don't like it, there are two possibilities. One is that you don't have the stomach for the colle's verbal punch.
The second, however, is well explained by Danno.

You’d like to be like me, but you know,
you can't manage it.
Did you want Problems?
Now you will have problems.
You know that I'm not right in the head and you know that I am the crazy one,
but it eats you up because you know that I am above the hill.

Love can be greater or lesser, like friendship, like gratitude and the rest of the feelings. But hate no, hate is the purest feeling, when you hate, you do it well, there are no half measures. Odio Pieno, down from the dark elf.