Grasshopper

I don't think I've said that we "must" distinguish between "art music" and "commercial music." As far as I'm concerned, I'm mainly a fan of classical music (and thus "art music," according to Pollini's definition), but that doesn’t mean I see it as the only possible "art music." Much of jazz, many masterpieces of rock, especially from the '60s and '70s, singer-songwriter music in the proper sense (from Bob Dylan to our own songwriters), and even the much-maligned pop—at least in its most successful expressions—are, for me, genuinely art music. They are expressions of feeling, of sensitivity, something quite different from what has been carefully planned by record companies solely for the purpose of maximizing sales in the shortest time possible, churning out hits and phenomena destined to last just a few months without leaving a trace. Of course, the distinction itself is a matter of convenience: the line between art music and commercial music can be very blurry. I think of Sting, an educated musician with a nice background in jazz and classical, but who has always had one eye on the market (except for his latest album, based on the 17th-century compositions of John Dowland, and potentially almost unsellable).
Moreover, no one dreams of "teaching" emotions to anyone: my intention is to communicate them to those who are willing to receive them. If it happens to be a fan of Ligabue (just to make the usual example), that gives me more satisfaction than if it were someone who shares my tastes, because it means that my review has had enough power to shift their curiosity towards something unusual. If this person, upon listening to Ravel, finds it boring and happily returns to their Liga, there's nothing I can do about it: that's their loss. But in the meantime, I've planted a seed of curiosity in their mind.

@Archimede: I too approached this genre of music at one time with the humility of a perfect ignorant, but at the same time with the firm conviction that it was "alive" music that could be thoroughly enjoyed not only by those with multiple degrees, but by anyone endowed with that optional called sensitivity. Instead, the sectarian way in which it is treated by certain Italian intellectuals (for example, in some broadcasts on Radio Tre) seems almost designed to alienate even that minority of people who, tired of relentless pop ballads or San Remo complaints, are desperately searching for something better. If my way of talking about it isn’t excessively erudite, that’s perfectly fine with me: writing on this site, I am certainly not aiming for a meticulous historical-cultural analysis of the context in which the musician operated, even though, to be honest, I have read in more than one music history that Ravel and Debussy are linked by a certain common thread of an impressionistic nature. Someone, overly kind, compared me to Enzo Siciliano, a true intellectual (unlike myself) who, when discussing classical music in "Repubblica," showcased an undeniable breadth of cultural horizons. Thank you, but I’m not interested in that at all. My primary goal is for even a fan of Ligabue (just to name one) to understand the sensations and impressions that a certain type of music can convey to me, and thus shift, maybe even just a little, their interest towards real music, the kind that Pollini calls "art music" to distinguish it from "consumption music." If with my words I can spark interest in works and authors unfairly labeled as serious and dull, my mission will be accomplished. Then, the experts will take care of categorizing Ravel within symbolism, impressionism, decadence, or wherever it is most appropriate to place him.

What can I say? I don’t know… The world is beautiful because it’s diverse, and the important thing is that criticisms are civil and well-founded. The same album can provoke different reactions, and even, as in this case, opposing ones. I found an extraordinary variety of melodies in it, and if it’s true that "The highwayman" is a powerful nighttime ballad of 11 minutes with a strict verse structure and no real chorus, the beauty of the words and an interpretation so touching that it could be defined as "dramatic" prevent this track, the only one that could potentially be boring, from actually becoming so. Let’s not even talk about the others, which are often true gems. Of course, I don’t expect everyone to feel the same way, and in fact, there are some dissenting voices (see fusillo). One thing I don’t understand: what do these Fleet Foxes have to do with it? (to be honest, I confess I don’t know them)

As suggested, I subjected this album to repeated chewings and digestings, and indeed the initial disconcerting impression (the same one I had with "Lampo viaggiatore" and even more so with "L'arcangelo") faded away to leave room for a pleasant feeling that aligns with your judgment, namely: excellent craftsmanship, from a seasoned cook able to skillfully reproduce the usual recipe. Which for me, however, does not equate to it being a masterpiece, but merely yet another confirmation of this musician's refinement. Hence the 4 stars: in any case, details, trivialities.

Finally (and then I'll be quiet) the comparison, or supposed such, between the Beatles and Pink Floyd. Making due proportions, it’s a bit like wanting to compare Beethoven and Verdi. It’s obvious that for symphonists (like me) the former will be infinitely more valid than the latter, but an opera-loving music enthusiast will probably think the opposite. And so it is with the Beatles and Pink Floyd: essentially, their fields of action can be said to be totally different. The former brought the so-called "three-minute song" to the highest level of expression, even though they were already evolving towards more complex forms in albums like this one. The latter, from their psychedelic beginnings, privileged long and elaborate suites, achieving equally high levels of expressiveness. For this reason, a direct and Manichean comparison, like "who would you throw off the tower?" seems rather pointless to me. As seen in these notes, it only serves to unleash insults among the respective fans.

In principle, I am against duplicates, but judging by the debate that this review has sparked, you can interpret it however you want, but it's certainly not useless. One point it raises, which hasn't been explored further in the comments, is yet another confirmation of the so-called "teorema di primiballi," named after the excellent debaser reviewer who stated it—I don't remember in which review—namely, "When a woman says that album x is the best or even that it's just nice, you can be mathematically certain it's a piece of junk." A theorem (alas) that has been confirmed multiple times, even by me, albeit with a few praiseworthy exceptions.

Fully shareable and well-written is the reflection on the inexorable decline of music from the times of "Abbey Road" to today, even though I would rather shift the beginning of the end towards the late '70s: the start of that decade gifted us with an unparalleled flourishing of musical inventiveness (just think of progressive or the "fusion" of jazz and rock). It's clear that there are countless examples to illustrate the chasm between what was listened to 40 years ago and what current radio stations are churning out, so I would say that "Abbey Road" is not "the" album to start from to gradually descend into the abyss, but certainly one of the possible ones. Still in the Beatles realm, why not also reference "Sgt. Pepper's" or the White Album? And if one is a bit of a scruff and the Beatles make us break out in hives, we can remember that between '67 and '69, so to speak, debuting were: Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, etc. There's no shortage of milestones from those years... anyway, "Abbey Road" remains a valid example for me.

A countervoice: while I appreciate the review for its writing style, I don’t agree with the nearly total bashing of this album. "Borboletta" is undoubtedly the least successful of the records from our guitarist's so-called "intellectual jazz turn," which produced what I consider two masterpieces, influenced by that precious jazz-rock fusion that at the same time had its peak expressions in formations like Weather Report, Mahavishnu Orchestra, or in Chick Corea's "latino" phase. I'm referring to "Caravanserai" and "Welcome" (I strongly recommend the latter to the reviewer, if only because it is heavily inspired by John Coltrane, and that can only be a positive). It's true that "Borboletta" marks the beginning of the decline, but we are still at the first step. The worst is to come: already with "Amigos" and "Festival," mediocre mixes of hit instrumentals (like "Europa") and insipid pseudo-soul that have nothing Latino except for the name of the group performing them. Let's not even talk about the various "Marathon," "Zebop," etc.: a long dark tunnel of useless albums that extends from the late '70s practically to today, considering that the album of the much-hyped "great return" (Supernatural) is at best passable, while its subsequent clones are (indeed) clones. I believe "Borboletta" manages to replicate, even if not fully, that magical mix of sweet and inspired motifs ("Canto de los flores") or hypnotic ones ("Aspirations") and frenetic percussive outbursts ("Practice what you preach," "Promise of a fisherman," which has the sole flaw of being too drawn out) that characterized the two illustrious "jazz-flavored" predecessors.

Agreed with Joe Cavalli, except for "the" summa. I've never understood why Street Fighting Years is so overlooked by everyone, Scaruffi above all. For me, besides being their summa, it is their most inspired album by far, even more than "New Gold Dream." But here we delve into personal tastes.

I see that many have started their journey into Zappa's world with this album, which is intentionally a bit more accessible than the others. I’m among them, and I don’t think there's anything disreputable about it. To make a classic comparison that I cherish, those who approach Mahler usually begin with the Fourth Symphony, which is the most accessible, but that doesn't make it any less valid from an artistic standpoint. I don’t see how it’s possible to yawn while listening to an album like this: the only plausible reason seems to be digestive issues.