alessioIRIDE

I don't really like the review... the album is my least favorite by the Melvins, but Melvins 5 for life!

good for you...where there’s pleasure, there’s no loss, they've always told me

I agree with s4doll... so I'm not posting another comment on this review... anyway, thanks to those who watch these shitty movies, because De Laurentiis knows how to spend that money ;)

Yes, but soon... you'll have to wait. Lux, I reread the comment and I was too harsh. Sorry, but this record should be listened to more with the heart than with the mind, because there are no significant technical intricacies, just beautiful melodies. Anyway, the Flaming are the psychedelic band, but of that accessible psychedelia for everyone and genuinely crazy... a far cry from the bourgeois and salon-like psychedelia.

zaireeka...you're right, but quoting all the songs bores me...I love them all for the record, and this is the album by my flaming (because there exists a different group for every flaming listener) that I’m most attached to...great memories, so many days together, all beautiful songs. Lux...but doesn't it annoy you? just put the damn CD on and listen to it even with your ass, not just with your head! the psychedelics with the quotes, of course, I leave to the second-rate critics.

He can write whatever the hell he wants, but he’s still just a petty bourgeois, a man— in this case, a woman— obsessed with nonsense that I simply can't deem respectable. Comparing Pasolini to Fallaci is something that deserves a denunciation. But how is it possible, I wonder, to not understand such a clear and explicit message as the one Pasolini, almost shouting, was conveying to the world? Perhaps the problem of Italians, in addition to a widespread obsession with foreign cultures—which seems physiologically justified given the monumental and well-deserved inferiority complex we all carry around—is that they only listen to and understand whatever the hell they want. Let's take this review as an example: the opening is something so obvious, banal, superficial, and ignorant, that it makes any calm and serene comparison impossible, as it’s draped in a series of extremely annoying clichés... lumping together a set of names stripped of their works, as they are placed there simply for recognition and not for what lies behind a name (a person)... in short, Pasolini, the only Italian intellectual worthy of being called an intellectual, would be utterly appalled.

by the way, she was just as clueless at forty... just think of the responses she gives to Pasolini in Comizi d'amore... the problem isn't what she thinks (I really like Cèline and Cèline isn't exactly a pacifist), but how she presents it to the whole world. In short, it's easy to believe that even shit has a brain that thinks better than Fallaci, who is nothing more than a pretentious little bourgeois, obsessed with the fears that plague all pretentious little bourgeois.

If I find the super elastics horrible, then I have nothing to say to you.

But am I the only one who likes the crap you write?