Voto:
You've broken me, a bunch of useless good-for-nothings. If I say something, it’s for me, Luglio Agosto Settembre (Nero) - Arbeit Macht, do you feel it? IT MAY NOT PLEASE everyone, stratos nooo?, when a band is niche it means it has sold VERY LITTLE compared to other bands, and to be honest, I don’t really care about prog music. You are the fake intellectual drug addicts, decadent post-industrial queens who, to feel chic, flaunt listening to prog because they find metaphysical presences that enlighten them in daily life, extracting them from the song form and more often a jingle: and our ‘heroes’ celebrate together, they coalesce because I dared to sacrifice at the altar of debaser the losers of the disc world, because Area was in the hit charts and everyone knows them, the Area records like ARBEIT, 2 kgvinile akarma-GIACCIONO unsold due to musical dysfunctions in Rome - which is closing now - and also because the lyrics of Roger Waters - funeral laments from an overpaid mourner for pleasure vs. clash with the music, because you forget where you come from, that is, in your popular national culture if the cousins make a pop song that the whole world has bought, they are to be excluded a priori. If you touch De André you dismantle Petrarch, that the Corvi are those beat groups also mentioned abroad, you are pretentious snobs, you are in the turris eburnea of jingles, that the PFM who worked with Sinfield were poor, you even listen to the bar sport chatter from waiters, and if you are still here whining about my reviews it means I hit the mark, you filthy degenerates of the low empire that’s all you are: if it were up to me, maybe playing with Nero’s lyre, few notes but that would enter those anal pavilions you have, I would have sent you to metallas, or better yet to bestias, so you would have sung social garbage because that’s all you are: and then anal logue makes little comments about the size of your dick, high-profile discussions, I must say, we are in kindergarten, we are in the world of programmed little robots that invade us today, and you are their older brothers. GO WORK, IT'S TIME, GO TO HELL in CUBA WITH ELIO, GLI AFTEHOURS, AND WHO THE HELL YOU LIKE, AND STOP CONTINUING THIS BLOG BECAUSE YOU ARE USELESS TO THE READERS AND TO YOURSELVES, IT'S CLEAR YOU ONLY HAVE IRRATIONAL INSTINCTS OF DEAD FROGS, you are just walking biological entities but not thinking ones, precisely because YOU HAVE THIS BEASTLY INSISTENCE, of TRUE AND PROPER MORBID AND IMMORAL IDIOTS; p.s. I don't give a damn about your illuminations, you toxic little rodents, keep it up, it’s clear you enjoy being ridiculed like this by someone who has tried in vain to educate you. Go chat with Richard Benson, or GO WORK BECAUSE YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT DOING A DAMN THING TO BE SO BOMBASTIC, MANIERISTIC, AND ATROPHIED. Go write for music newspapers instead of blabbing here: I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD FIND such a gang of boorish, good-for-nothing beggars, believe me, but as the poet says, and I emphasize poet, matriculated beasts, this is what I think of you:
Raphèl maì amècche zabì almi»,
he began to shout from the fierce mouth,
to whom sweet psalms suited no longer.
And my duke to him: «Foolish soul, hold on to the
DISCO, and with it let loose
when anger or another passion touches you!
Search yourself at the neck, and you’ll find the rope
that binds you, or confused soul,
and see him whose great chest breaks you».
