Valeriorivoli

So clones do exist...
P.S. Does anyone know what happened to the Osanna?

it seems like it's come out of an outtake from station to station

Yeeeeeees little genius from Modugno. Listen to the duke's version ...

But back then, the single didn’t seem too bad. With "Party" Iggy was already somewhat imitating Bowie, and here Bowie was in his Tonight phase, making big bucks like Phil Collins – his own words, mind you – and he would follow it up with the ultimate trash album, Never Let Me Down. So, he could only ruin the rest of the LP.

those fuckers how annoying and cringeworthy is the singer of deprescmodo that compared to him the ultravox are real sweethearts!!! and the devo? absolute geniuses: do you realize how far such ugly nerds can go? look at them in 1980.

Federico Fiumani is one of the last true poets, sometimes overly

BBBBravvoooooooo this is my favorite album by the Poohh. Bring me back fond memories. The lyrics by Valerio Negrini are wonderful
history already decided
your house and I with you
reading the future
in the coffee cup
innocence hanging
with clothes and you were alive
a year has passed
and I still feel you mine
you were so so I would want you
and the certainties from a year ago
remain clear even if the days
make time

And yet, I must have pulled out my phone ten times to check the score of Atalanta-Inter. Great. But just the fact that you went to see it is serious. Get a psychologist on the line immediately because you’re dissociating even from the doppelganger Joe Strummer that you’ve clung to. Can you imagine the Clash going to see West Side by Spielberg? I get winter in Brianza, the restrictions, but Spielberg? You could have blasted Wild Side by Motley Crue on the speakers of your Fiat 128 Sport and contemplated leaving the poisonous Brianza to come to ARRRRoma.

Baglioni crystallizes everything and everyone, fossils trapped in the amber of waiting: Great, but you know Kyrielison that you remind me of some of my old reviews: finally someone like you who pours emotions onto the keyboard, who ties the album or the song to a tender moment of early adolescence. Search for lost time? Pre-senile dementia? A joke from altered triglycerides or prostatitis? No, gentlemen, it’s our inner child speaking, asking for a metaphysical confirmation of its own existence, not to be swallowed up in the black hole of time, despite the dry robotic detractors. Well, you persevere Kirieelison, stand behind your Sabrina with grace, but don’t give up, because after 40 years I managed to reconnect with an ancient love missed like yours, and it didn’t go badly... Neapolitan tears of nostalgia, but the feeling was there, reciprocated now that she has separated.

But wasn't Fellini's La Dolce Vita a bit crap too? Meditate, people, meditate.