mementomori

unwatchable film... I really like it a lot, but I won't deny that it's completely ridiculous... nonexistent screenplay, truly senseless, and the ending is so idiotic that it finds salvation in its own absurdity... however, the scene of the sewer rat vs the old blind man who kills cats is a true cult moment... the music by Emerson is spectacular, I highly recommend purchasing the soundtrack... good review, I didn't know that an attempt had even been made to justify this film, which I thought was a piece of crap according to the unanimous opinion of critics... honestly, more than free jazz, it seems like the delirium of a bburino starting to take the comfortable path of mannerism... it's a shame that Darione has today become the creator of the worst cinema around... Fidia, Argento was a master and is well known abroad... his pastel colors have surely gone around the world, but honestly, I don't see a direct connection with Herzog, I don't think one influenced the other... maybe they achieved the same results through different paths...

he he, indeed "The kebab makes my stomach bloated and I get oniony burps, which I suppress with the utmost finesse with my mouth closed, even though I feel my nostrils swelling" it brought a laugh out of me in solitude...how true it is...but weren't the nostrils the ones mentioned???

he he, indeed "The kebab makes my stomach bloated and I get oniony burps, which I suppress with the utmost finesse with my mouth closed, even though I feel my nostrils swelling" it brought a laugh out of me in solitude...how true it is...but weren't the nostrils the ones mentioned???

Having established that I gave 3 to the album and not to the band, personally speaking, I tend to prefer musicians with a clear idea in mind who then have the patience to develop it, perhaps even taking a look at the overall effect... in short, not to invoke God, but in a piece like Lark's Tongues in Aspic, there's improvisation, experimentation, but everything is brought back to a precise structure, there's progress and the instruments have a specific role in it all... sure, the comparison isn't spot on, but in the end, the impression I get from the music of Area (I should note that I don't know musical theory) is one of a jam session among bold artists, people having fun, who, from their wise perch, allow themselves to "mess around"... it's from a conceptual standpoint that they seem weak to me (except, of course, for the conceptualizations on using the voice as a musical instrument by Stratos)... sure, it's also a matter of taste; I don't like "baroque" things, I ultimately prefer King Crimson to EL&P...

Great review (more of this kind are welcome!) for an album that, in my opinion, does not live up to the review itself. Arbeit has gone down in history and has become the emblem of the band, but I believe Area does their best work in live performances, where the pieces can finally unleash, breathe, and live with true improvisation, which perhaps is what Area did best. Their studio albums have never excited me; this one, in particular, I find too short and a bit stiff (it seems to me that the enormous potential of the musicians is compressed here, somewhat tamed, and stripped of the urgency and immediacy of improvisation, while at the same time not constructing studied patterns or particularly brilliant solutions. Stratos himself seems a bit subdued compared to other situations... moreover, here and there, a few words are lost, showing that Italian is not exactly the best language for vocal virtuosity). As for the contribution of Area to the history of music, I would tend to downsize them a bit: full respect for their commitment and the themes they tackled, but aside from Stratos (perhaps the most gifted singer ever), Area appears to me more as a collective of skilled musicians than a true unified body capable of creating and delivering something organic and innovative to history. In short, for ethnic influences, there were already the Third Ear Band, and regarding the mix with jazz, the Soft Machine seem to be on another planet. It is, in general, the much-touted Italian progressive scene of those years that does not convince me: a thousand groups, often insipid lyrics, and few ideas. Paradoxically, the most shocking and innovative thing from the Italian front are the underrated Jacula by the phenomenal Bartoccetti. This is, however, a personal opinion; there is no polemical intent, it is just to discuss and exchange views.

Well Fidia, the feeling of love is such a subjective thing that it's hard to answer. Somewhat ambiguous characters like the ones you described do exist, but in that circumstance, I believe the "guilt" (if we can talk about guilt) is more yours than theirs, and Irons is there to teach you that. Falling in love also means being predisposed to it, temporarily losing analytical abilities in view of achieving objectives that transcend the rational sphere and to which we, even unconsciously, want to give priority. Often, it’s easier to fall in love with the wrong person who shows up at just the right time. Sometimes an element strikes us, and we build the person based on these few elements. And, depending on our needs, by selecting only the aspects that enchant us, we reinforce the conviction that this is the right person. Once triggered, the mechanism becomes deadly, and returning abruptly to reality (often because in the end it’s us who return to the rational plane, not so much because the person reveals themselves for what they truly are) can be truly traumatic. But at this point, it’s not that we no longer love; rather, we realize that we have never loved, and that it was all an illusion. Naturally, the opposite is also possible, given the irrationality of love, but frankly, I, who do not see love in a metaphysical and supernatural sense, believe that love is nothing more than the complex result of intersecting factors...from the interplay of these variables, anything can happen, but if we step outside the romantic view often delivered by art, love can be brought back to a more “normal” plane, made up of simple things, of knowledge, of esteem, of affection, of satisfying needs, and sometimes even of calculation, rather than genuine infatuations that drive us crazy. One must see how hungry we are for affection and how much we are willing to distort ourselves to satisfy this need. As with everything, I think the key lies within ourselves, to the extent that we are aware of what is happening to us and always ask ourselves "me? me? me?". Perhaps it’s a somewhat gray perspective, but honestly, beyond the fact that I’ve made a thousand mistakes in life, I still have yet to find someone who completely makes me lose my sense of (my) reality.

an extremely difficult film to review, and, in my opinion, Cronenberg's best... and while it is true that the reflection carried out in this film is typically Cronenbergian, it is also true that it can be described as atypical for the expressive modes of the director up until that point... I remember that the first time I saw it, I expected a gruesome twist until the very end... the fundamental difference with the rest of the director's production, in my view, lies in having completely bypassed the theme of technology's mediation in the construction of reality, or, more generally, not having used the usual monstrosities as metaphors to represent reality. In this sense, in addition to love, this reflection can be extended to all aspects of life, and for this reason, Cronenberg's message is scarier than ever: the threat is no longer external, it's not a virus that contaminates us, but internal, intrinsic to our senses, to the way we read and interpret reality. Pirandello docet... But not only that: the dramatic force of the ending is the highest the director has been able to express (great Irons!!!), who greatly rises to the challenge of confronting a more canonical type of cinema. Fidia, however, I would have revealed fewer plot details... they could spoil the viewing for those who haven't seen the film...

argh... I wanted to do it myself... anyway, congratulations, you really capture the idea, there's really not much to add, except that this is the album of the year, no ifs ands or buts about it... the return of TG is beyond any expectations... one would have expected a tired rehash of a formula updated to the '90s, and instead you find a fresh album, with astonishing melodic openings, in which TG are undoubtedly TG but sound like they've never sounded before, an orgy of sounds where all the experiences of the four musicians (Coil, Psychic TV, Carter & Cosey) converge, but also everything that has happened in these 26 years, including Wolf Eyes, Matmos, and Badalamenti. Yes, because we find everything here: Lynchian jazz, sick atmospheres, crazy collages, noise, minimal electronics, techno-trance, avant-garde, ambient, esotericism, singer-songwriter from the beyond (P-Orridge sings like a nightclub whore!). I don't want to say blasphemies, but this is the best Throbbing Gristle CD ever! Recommended to everyone!

a miracle of music, a testament to the infinite genius of De Andrè... what astonishes me is the ability to synthesize: only 35 minutes to illustrate a truly profound concept, rich in content and multiple layers of interpretation. Every word is in its right place, every sentence gives you goosebumps, and it’s shocking to observe how poetry intertwines with a difficult and careful process of reduction and exemplification (often through symbols or effective allegories) of very complex concepts and themes, which I must say are still relevant almost forty years after its release. But above all, what amazes is the sensitivity with which extremely delicate topics are addressed, the way in which the hypocrisy of the Church and the specters of Catholic morality are questioned, without ever descending into blasphemy or any minimal disrespect. Immense.

Does 4 happen to mean "good record, but the Bjork of yesteryear was something else"? I didn't like Medulla either, and I think my journey with Bjork ended there... she remains a tremendous artist, certainly worthy of respect, who will continue to churn out above-average albums, but as far as I'm concerned, something has definitely broken; since Vespertine, something undefinable has been missing that prevents me from enjoying her music anymore, and at times, it even annoys me... anyway, the review is good and objective (especially considering it's written by a fan, and it's often hard to remain sober when discussing your favorite artists). From these words, I can already sense that I won’t like the album, and between the lines, it seems to me that the crisis is still ongoing, that she is still in a confused state and doesn’t know what direction to take. And now more than ever, she seems to be a victim of herself, her persona, and this forced evolution she has to go through... today, we also have to put up with maracas and a lot of life lessons on how to live on this planet, and honestly, I don’t want to take lessons from superstars who live on another planet and have no idea how normal people live... goodbye Bjork, it was nice while it lasted...