supersoul

In my opinion (and having seen it), the film that delves deeper into Indian traditions before "Dances with Wolves," without that veneer of naivety mentioned by Geeno, is "A Man Called Horse" by Elliot Silverstein from 1970, featuring Richard Harris as the English lord who is captured by the Indians and made to work as a pack mule. In the original version, the dialogues were in the Sioux language. Another great film is "Man in The Wilderness" (Uomo bianco và col tuo dio) by Richard Sarafian just the following year, again starring Richard Harris (what an actor, guys, not like that wet fish Kevin Costner).

Thank you, trilobite. It’s always a pleasure to receive praise from someone who knows the band well. It’s important to note that they managed to break away from the (albeit psychedelic) garage almost immediately, while others continued to emulate the Sonics (see Fuzztones) or the Chocolate Watchband (see Chesterfield Kings) or moved towards heavy sounds (see Miracle Workers). Instead, Plan 9 transitioned to what, if I may say, can be described as a fairly complex and twisted progressive garage, as shown in the splendid follow-up "Keep your cool and read the rules," which requires more attention when listening compared to this immediate jab that is this review. @donjunio: is your perplexity to defend the Duran or the new wave? :)))) Anyway, it’s true: the skull on the cover is a caricature of the Grateful Dead logo, the one with the skull and the lightning bolt on the forehead :) @auricolare, perhaps I’m your age and I’m also super informed, ahahah.

@imasoulman...and the Tryfles? Shall we talk about that one album born of a widow mother? :)))

!...the English haven't invented a damn thing musically, bah... just think about the use of feedback and distortion by the Yardbirds in the first half of the sixties; we should reflect before shooting our mouths off. It's true that they were rooted in the USA blues, but fundamental American bands for the hard sound like Blue Cheer took from the Yardbirds...

@mocampo, indeed Stumpo is too erudite a musician to "limit himself" to this sort of psychedelic garage and later wanted to explore other territories, like in Sea Hunt and the encyclopedic "Ham and Sam Jamming," which I’m currently re-listening to and which showcases folk rock, hard rock, and classic pop rock à la Leiber-Stoller. Honestly, I don't think it achieves the same excellent results as this album, which is exceptional instead. Besides the nine tracks of the original vinyl, the CD reissue contains an additional six, including "Five years ahead my time," which leads into seven minutes of psychedelic delirium, almost as if they were Opal from "Happy Nightmare Baby." @popolo italiano, this is indeed garage that is different from the usual, as it breaks away from the revival of other bands that, even in the New York area, drew inspiration from old groups like the Sonics—take the Chesterfield Kings, for instance. It’s true that in some aspects they remind one of the Lyres (see "I'm gone" on this album), especially for the use of the organ in the style of Jeff Monomann, but these are much more psychedelic while the great and rough old Jeff remains more anchored to R&B.

I, on the other hand, met Howe Gelb a couple of times, the first in 2002 (I think). It was about to fade away because it was an outdoor concert at Maschio Angioino and a storm came down that swept the stage. After about half an hour of waiting, I and the "zombie with the mustache" were about to leave, but we heard guitar sounds coming from a tent and went in. It was Howe with about fifty people who had started playing unplugged without a band. It was glorious, a human jukebox taking requests. I asked him for "Johnny Hit and Run Pauline" by the X, and he played it even though he didn’t have PJ Harvey's voice to duet with us. I think he played a piece like "Napoli" in memory of that magical evening. I saw him again in 2005 at Galleria Toledo with the three Danes who accompany him on this album, and he was amazing again. He ordered a crate of beers from the bar across the street and handed them out to us under the stage. Does he always make the same album as comment 9 says? If in an album like this he manages to combine gripping rock songs, melancholic ballads, border atmospheres, and even swing tunes... if only there were more albums like this.

...and let's say that especially before (1955) there was "The Man with the Golden Arm" by Otto Preminger.

Regarding Frankie’s comment on the 11th, I would say that he tackles "the theme of drugs and addiction" after several films and not just after "Amore Tossico." I really liked the film, but the flaw, if we can call it that, of Van Sant is that he always associates beautiful people with these troubled stories. Perhaps it’s his gayness that leads him to exalt beauty, but this combination of beautiful/damned always leaves me suspicious. Take a film like "Il mio uomo è una canaglia" (1971) by Czech director Ivan Passer who emigrated to the USA, poorly translated as "Born to Win," which is the tattooed phrase on the arm of a drug-addicted hairdresser who lives off miserable schemes rather than legendary heists like Bonnie & Clyde to get his drugs. A rough-looking, long-haired guy like George Segal (an extraordinary actor) makes everything more tragic and inevitable; the film may not reach the levels of Van Sant’s work, but it left me with a much more bitter taste in my mouth.

Well! In my humble opinion, if a big group like Led Zeppelin puts out a double album, it should result in something like the Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street," which you can't take off the turntable unless you're putting on the other record. That's not the case with Physical Graffiti, which (at least for me) is filled with bouncy tracks and has several filler songs, making it hard to follow with interest from beginning to end.

@darkeve it's not a matter of numbers, it's about the twist of the film that catches you off guard by making you simmer in the realistic and somewhat boring first part with the family taken hostage, leading to a completely unexpected second half (at least for me when I saw it for the first time) that is absurdly adrenaline-pumping. The trick lies in that transition; otherwise, it would have been either a conventional gangster film (as conventional as Tarantino/Rodriguez can be) or an overused splatter. It's a bit of the gimmick used in "El Mariachi," where people aren't what you expect; the guitar player turns into a ruthless killer of bandits, and the soul shepherd Keitel becomes a merciless vampire slayer.