Deep Purple
Burn

THE REVIEW

Peace & love...

To the usual question "What kind of music do you listen to?", I always answer evasively, because if I were to say rock, on the other side they'd throw those horrid names from the hard stuff of the seventies. Which? The usual ones.

And don't get it wrong, I'm not talking about Gabriel Pontello and the like, ifix tcen tcen, tcen tcen ifix. Because here there's no erotic fluid happening.

No offense to anyone, but if rock'n'roll is a good and proper thing, the hard stuff of the seventies is just a game of 'mine is bigger than yours'. A hideous something that shows off redundant and hairy chests and elevates the alpha male's liberating belch as an expressive model. Let the beasts vent.

Then, yes, maybe someone (a damn blasphemer, I imagine) mistook Dionysus for a truck driver.

Bloody traitors of the rock spirit and its primitive and wild expressive thinness...

Champions of the most useless and squalid musical exhibitionism, like the usual crappy guitarist doing the usual crappy solo in the usual crappy way...

You know, like when as kids you put a bigger carburetor on the moped to flaunt on the streets of the world? Well, something like that...

The moped is a light motorcycle, for those who don't know.

However, someone free us from seventies hard rock and its horrendous offspring. In the wonderful anarcho/communist world (more anarcho than communist) playing that kind of music will be the only thing not allowed. At most, you could take a spin in a dirigible one year yes, one year no. Or listen to “Child in time,” a little obscure thing from the deep purple world...

And anyway, I repeat, no offense to anyone, it's just a matter of musical taste...

No offense to anyone, but a stadium rock concert or any similar barbarism is a great way, paraphrasing Oscar Wilde, to keep all the hooligans out of the city center...

No offense to anyone, but to us, impalpable and delicate and exquisite wavers, to us dandy of this damn thing, half pretentious intellectuals, to us sick with white noise and sick sensations, you have always seemed like tasteless apes...

But deep down, I know, you are good guys.

But now it's time to moderately pay tribute to the deep purple world...

….......................................

“And I offer you the intelligence of electricians so finally a bit of light will reach our empty room in the sad hotels”..

It was indeed from an electrician that, a little more than a kid, I got hold of a counterfeit deep purple cassette and my empty room lit up a little bit...

And anyway the Purples, I can’t stand “Smoke on the water” anymore, and, for the rest, I remember little or, actually, almost nothing. Except for that transcendental thing, child in time, really who knows how it came to them...

In my days, the scream of that child was accompanied by a certain Eugenio, a guy who had to watch out for an axe..

And, say what you will, a scream is a beautiful thing, otherwise it ends like in certain nightmares where you want to scream, but you can't.

In any case, my dear Purples, I am ungrateful, I know... but today, today I want to make amends, for that lightbulb and for what came after. Because if the first verse is given by God and the rest is up to us, without that first verse, nothing.

And then, apart from the fact that in the cover you have the Osram bulb on your head, on re-listening, track one, the sensations are good, that powerful riff, that "burn" shouted in chorus, those trademark keyboards.

It's just that the rest, well the rest literally makes me shit. Anyway, five stars for the imprinting...

And anyhow, even if rock'n'roll shouldn't have anything to do with gyms, even if today I wouldn’t listen to such a record even dead, a small thanks, dear Purples, I send you anyway. By the way, "In rock", the album with "Child in time", is beautiful throughout, not like the zeppelin, but almost...

PS... I wrote part one with a fever after a shitty day... it's a slightly on-the-surface reaction to all those who accuse us of listening to strange music just to act cool... more likely, instead, we listen to strange music because we are strange... but don’t take it badly, really... peace & love, better still trallallà...