Valeriorivoli

but pura vida is beautiful Young forever stunning the sounds are very contemporary one cannot be left in the air

Anyway, regarding the Neapolitan tears, I was there at that time, and I always thank the influence that the beautiful hair of Kajagogo, Spandau, and Duran had on me, as well as the entire school of hairstylists from Albion, who were the world’s top back then. In 1983, thanks to videomusic, I became obsessed with "Hang on now," a beautiful gem from the album. I have personal memories tied to that song’s melancholic mood, which I hope to write about one day. Anyway, I was totally in love with a girl similar to the video’s protagonist, who, mind you, is Chris Squire's daughter from Yes!

Well done for bringing the kajagogogo out of the ossuary: here they are produced by Nick Rhodes, who back then wasn't just any fool. Nick Beggs is a great bassist and "Too Shy" is a very refined hit for the time, with jazz undertones, which had quite different mainstream hits at the top of the European charts. Unfortunately, it's in insisting on these campy sounds + annoying electronic drums + absence of decent guitars + few decent songs that we find the trash that Rhodes liked during the more dance-oriented period of Duran, the post-Arena phase, to be clear, along with Andy Taylor's departure, goodbye rock soul of the group, with Arcadia, Notorious, and then Big Thing, in short, let's boil our ears in a disco. The deep and never superficial influences of Bowie, Eno, Ferry, Bolan, and last but not least in France Gilcagnè, Malgioglio, and Patty Bravo in Italy were the godfathers of these oxygenated boys and their offspring are always pieces of their hearts.

Daumier, the intellectual (Jean Rougeul)
You have done very well, believe me, today is a good day for you. These are decisions that come at a cost, I know, but we intellectuals—I'm saying we because I consider you one—have a duty to remain clear-headed until the end. There are already too many superfluous things in the world; it is not the case to add more disorder to the disorder. After all, losing money is part of the producer's trade. My congratulations, there was nothing else to be done, and he gets what he deserves for embarking so lightly on such a frivolous adventure. No, believe me, don’t feel nostalgia or remorse; destruction is better than creation when one isn't creating the few necessary things. And besides, is there anything so clear and just in the world that it has the right to live? A wrong film for him is merely an economic matter, but for you, at the point you have reached, it could have been the end. Better to let it all go down and spread salt as the ancients did to purify battlefields. Ultimately, all we need is a bit of hygiene, cleanliness, disinfection. We are suffocated by words, images, sounds that have no reason to exist, that come from emptiness and go towards emptiness. A true artist deserving of the name should only be asked for this act of loyalty: to educate oneself to silence.

The first - big - perplexity is: why? I mean, what is the point of this film? We hear a ghost of the past made of celluloid saying:
Daumier, the intellectual (Jean Rougeul)
he did very well, believe me, today is a good day for you. These are decisions that come at a cost, I know, but we intellectuals, I say we because I consider you one, have the duty to remain clear-headed until the end. There are already too many superfluous things in the world; there’s no need to add more disorder to the disorder. After all, losing money is part of the producer’s job. My congratulations, there was nothing else to do, and he gets what he deserves for embarking so lightly on such a trivial adventure. No, believe me, don’t have either nostalgia or regrets; destroying is better than creating when one does not create the few necessary things. And then, is there anything so clear and just in the world that has the right to live? A wrong film for him is just an economic matter, but for you, at the point you’ve reached, it could have been the end. Better to let everything go down and scatter salt as the ancients did to purify the battlefields. After all, what we really need is a little hygiene, cleanliness, disinfection. We are suffocated by words, images, sounds that have no reason to exist, that come from the void and go towards the void. An artist, truly worthy of that name, should not be asked for anything but this act of loyalty: to educate oneself in silence.

I was a child... I can feel all these complexes. Your reviews are barbiturically nostalgic in the hermetic sense of the word...
However (they say) there is life until 1979, beyond that I'm not so sure.

no voglio dire il regista di questo film di merda

I've always liked the Sweet better. Or the Slade: those who pounded, shit. This stupid childish arena rock with that fake Castro clone look for old queens makes me really sad. Andy Warhol

Why waste time with these fake intellectuals of my dick... no Lou's but in short you understand right? Andy Warhol