supersoul

WE ALL sell our battered body messer sfascia, to the Bertoncelli and the Scaruffi, to the Ricci and the Lisci, to the Nano and Mortadella, they have managed to destroy the beautiful A contained in the circle... check it out, read the gggiornali :)

...damn, I just realize now that I’ve made a mistake in accenting the e (instead of no)

Of course it is, Mr. Sfascia. Just imagine, I have a friend who still insists on spending money on porn videotapes when for twenty euros he could go to Natascia, going from virtual to real. Good for him (as if not).

don, I believe that in that 4, in my case (and perhaps azzo's), there is a surplus of emotional value connected to a certain period lived, which shouldn’t factor into the evaluation of an album ;)

Good job, man, I don't know why but the review really captures the essence of the album, an autumnal record, melancholic in its ballads, but not in a depressing way like Depeche Mode :) The melancholy that comes from beautiful things that are past and that you remember with a half-smile. Despite what some say about Rundgren Americanizing the Furs too much, I stand by the fact that he does a great job; once you lose Kilburn's European saxophone, Rundgren emphasizes the keyboards and Butler's limited but gorgeous voice.

Well done dreamwarrior, there can never be enough talk about Phish because in Italy it's been discussed very little. I've worn this double live out, they are technically brilliant but never just for the sake of it; they have the fantastic ability to throw out recognizable melodies (like the opener "Bouncing around the room" welcomed by a roar from the stadium crowd, yes because in the USA they fill stadiums and have their dedicated following just like the Dead) and then drown them in long instrumentals that show these are musicians who invent, improvise, build, open escape routes, and go off on tangents. Take the thirty minutes of "Tweezer," an epic track, odd time signatures, falsetto voices, piano holding the motif, and then the piece gets lost in an endless jam with solos and time changes, tarantellas, classical music, free jazz, noise, the mockery of Uncle Frankie. What band is capable of doing all this in the same melting pot without driving you crazy? To put it in "Ziliani's ratings" terms: Monsters!

@eliodoro "the Audiences are a big group even if no one talks about them" not exactly, debaser has talked about it, in spite of Bertoncelli, Scaruffo, Casalini, Guaitamacchi, Franzinelli, Rocco and his brothers....Many times instead of spending money on these books it's better to use it to buy records, take a trip aggartis among the twenty thousand reviews of debaser using the "what are you looking for" function.

"Metalheads are different from everyone else, simply because they are smarter or at least know how to navigate the world. We like this music; if others don’t, that’s their problem. We are on this path, and we intend to see it through." But what path? Tell me a bit, kingjudas, what's the average age of a metalhead today? 15-17 years? Out of the three thousand I knew, I might have seen only one metalhead truly remain one even at 40-50 years old, with long white hair and a studded jacket. Your path ends when, whether you like it or not, you will be forced to integrate into this shitty society to survive with your family depending on you. It's nice to be a strong and courageous metalhead when you have Dad and Mom backing you up with your allowance, a little less when you have to say "Yes, boss" to the department head at the supermarket or office where you'll work to bring home a paycheck. Wake up, live your youth without proclamations, without thinking you are superior to the trendsetters, because YOUR scene is also a passing trend, you'll realize this when you show your current photos to your child saying, "See, Dad was funny back then?"

I wrote it like this because it's really in capital letters :) Anyway, do you confirm the evaluation of ninety?

but it's an album (in my opinion) that deserves a 3, let’s forget about the feedback and the distortions of the true Jesus and Mary Chain; in 1994 they have to confront new English "idols" like Oasis and Suede who are in the spotlight. Not by chance, the album has that title, stoned and dethroned, and they set themselves on the same britpop terrain with an acoustic prevalence, and if the Reid brothers pull the plug, they become just another band, with a few too many yawns.