Even this is in a first pressing vinyl, almost impossible to find, to be kept like a relic. Obviously, a magnificent album: lyrics like dynamite, filled with nightmares and disillusionments that smell of beautiful jazz arrangements. In some ways, it follows the trail already blazed by the Zingari, even though here the acidic and disenchanted component of his "trilogy of cosmic pessimism" (I like to call it that) comes back into the spotlight. "Da zero e dintorni" is poetry.
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