supersoul

The usual unknowns? Perhaps "Bread, Love, and Fantasy" from a few years earlier wasn't an Italian comedy?

No vortex were English and I think they only made that very long mix that was popular around '82, very tribal and dancey but intellectual, like Shamen. I definitely heard that track again in a movie from a few years ago, but I don't think it's La sposa turca, where they instead featured the Sisters of Mercy. Maybe even a US film in a nightclub scene. What a terrible thing the loss of memory is.

I live in the trash, Poletti, and in the suffocating air of tragedy that permeates this city where laughter is a rarity. The other evening, I found myself in stitches watching "L' Ispettore Zagaria ama la mamma e la polizia," with the caustic Banfi of old, not today’s clown. And I also thank whoever made that film because it made me laugh at a time when I was feeling down; in that moment, it helped me more than "Ladri di Biciclette." Cinema is ALSO this—can you get that into your crocodile brain?

...that Bugo, even when he's trying to be a serious intimate artist, is still making fun of us... he makes an acoustic album and plagiarizes the cover of Neil Young's Harvest...

...well, punisher, as Orwell rightly says, it's a matter of taste. But I truly believe that Bugo, even live, has more of a dynamic nonsense dimension à la Rino Gaetano rather than the flabby, torn intimacy of Battisti. His best and most natural expression is that, and he does it well (see also Dallofaialcisei).

Sure, here’s the translation:

Wow, in retrospect, everything seems perfectly clear without a shadow of a doubt, like the replay in football: the Black Flag were much better, the Husker were less so. But those who lived through that era know very well how important Mould and Hart were; there were still radio stations playing this music, and they were among the most popular even before Warehouse, which, excuse me, I don’t see as characterized by fuzz-compositional monotony, but rather by the alternating variety of Mould's badass tracks (which I liked more) and Hart's Beatles-esque ballads. Speaking of radio, back then, they played an English group (like the Dance Society's "Seduction") that did, I think, one long mix that was quite popular at the time, featuring a myriad of tribal percussion with echo, an anguished voice driving you to dance; I think I’ve even heard it in some movies. Can some kind soul, and especially a medium, help me out? What the hell were they called?

for me it's a solid 4 to 5, the review doesn't mention the substantial contribution of Daryl Hall (with whom Fripp will collaborate on his beautiful "Sacred Song") nor the fact that Eno also actively collaborates with Fripp on this album.

the best studio album by the Allman Bros, the best cover of the song by Willie Dixon, stuff to make you lick your lips. It seems that "In memory of Elizabeth Reed" was dedicated by Betts to the name on the tombstone in the cemetery where he used to make out with a girl. What technique for guys who were just barely in their twenties.

Poletti's question in post no. 26 "what do you think cinema is? An artwork or total relaxation?" is truly hair-pulling. If he were in power, it would be worse than the Taliban. Mr. Poletti, have a little sense (cf. from "Totò Fabrizi e i giovani d'oggi").

this album cannot exist without its other half, which is "Arriva Golia!"—its electric part, which I believe is far superior to this acoustic one, where Bugo tends to do a Battisti: but he’s good and works with the nonsense and sound anarchy of "Il sintetizzatore," "Un altro conato," "Mezzora prima di morire." The introspective singer-songwriter style doesn’t suit him, nor do the images of dim lights in the night fog of the rice fields; he is the man who comes to your city to teach you the A chord.