Targetski

Indeed, I notice that this has a halved tracklist compared to the previous albums. That already says a lot. "The meaning of 8," as far as I'm concerned, is the typical album you never get tired of listening to, because with each new listen you discover a detail you hadn't caught before. An inexhaustible mine. Really, as you say, more mixed and scrambled records together. The first four songs are spine-tingling, but for me, it's "A girl underground" that drives me crazy. When I listen to this, I'll come back here. Welcome, anyway, to the club of the "padovani" (mostly adopted, aside from the good bisius): one evening we'll have a debaserian spritz!

I didn’t know the new Cloud Cult was out! Great news, and thank you for letting me know. I gather that the album is based on the theme of ghosts: considering that the previous one focused on the relationship between the living and the dead, it’s not a big leap. If this will be their last album, it will be because Minowa is going crazy. And he has every reason to, assuming it takes reasons to go mad. Moreover, their albums are definitely worth having physically: the previous one, “The Meaning of 8,” is quite an object, very well packaged, with a captivating cover, a strange cardboard format, and beautiful internal illustrations. Question: how do you compare it to the previous albums?

Yes, that's it, Ole! Of course, it definitely depends on the genres, and I know we have very few points of contact... :) Melbook is very indie, but not just that. In fact, psycho, the second part of Oracular spectacular is quite nice under the first one. I’ll never play them while driving, though.

@Ole: in Treviso there's only Disco Frisco, two minutes from the train station where Psycho remembers, next to the bus station. It's worth it, for every genre. Padua is lacking. The 23 has had the same records for twelve years. Better, lately, is the record section of Melbook, which also has good prices (also in Ferrara). Venice is more experienced, Psycho... As for the discussion about snobbery, kid, I align with you, specifying that you mention some of the few bands from the indie-rock melting pot of recent years that have actually done something lasting. When the percentage of trash in horizontal lines is high, it’s easy to fall into snobbish generalization. Of course, it’s better to try not to fall into it. As for this record, I find it quite light in itself, not comparable to the early works of the bands you mention. Better the MGMT. A review is awaited.

My impression is that these, with their afro-summer vibe, attracted many purely due to weather predisposition. A longing for spring, in short. To put it this way: I heard them for the first time a couple of months ago; I went to my trusted retailer, saw that there were three copies of the record, and then I thought to myself: "I'll buy a couple of books; if I don’t spend too much, I’ll consider it." I went to buy the books, didn’t spend too much, returned to my trusted retailer, but all three copies, within an hour, had been sold. On a Wednesday afternoon. In Treviso (in a store that psycho, by the way, knows well :). The clerk was stunned. Then I set my donkey to work, and I had the clear impression that they don’t deserve that much attention. Not at all. The record remains enjoyable, but quite poor.

Party disc, and moreover for a Sunday afternoon party, just a bit more. I’d say it came out at the right time, but it doesn’t have much to say. Way too much hype. Mansard roof, though, I like it.

A round of applause for the courage shown in the single-song review, and especially for the choice of song. After all, "Behaviour" is an album that thrives on this bittersweet spleen (I think of "This must be the place I've waited years to leave," which, listened to again now and adapted to our Italy, gives chills, or "To face the truth," "Only the wind," "Nervously"). "Being boring" has remained a generational anthem in the background, marking the end of things, making space for others that are almost certainly sadder. And I would like to point out, just to demystify once more the myth of the Pet Shop Boys as an easy and trivial band, that this wonderful pop song uses, among others, the A flat eleventh and the G flat sixth. Which today's pop doesn't even know if these are things to eat. Pop Art.

New masterpiece. More paranoid and obsessive than the previous ones, filled with noises, thrilling sound effects, disturbances, and interferences, but with an underground folk soul (from Gibbons' draconian predisposition) that conveys a sense of poignant humanity. Machine Gun is spine-chilling: one of those definitive songs that mark the decades. Essential.

I saw them in Modena in '98, pulling an all-nighter at the station and skipping school the next day. This year I voluntarily opted out. I suspected it would be an event-concert that you have to watch through the lens of the camera in front of you. And then poetry gets screwed. Machine gun, anyway, is an iconic piece.

I don't know: it’s one of the few records on which, despite repeated listens, I still haven't formed an opinion, in the sense that I haven't yet determined whether it is a complete scam covered with a clever layer of esoteric references, or a decent work (albeit rather poor) that manages to extract an original mix of electronics and indierock from its obsessiveness and iteration. In a word: who knows. Which perhaps, among the Indo-Europeans, was a compliment.