Il_Paolo

From the Pa_olistica encyclopedia, entry "Eros": «An ambiguous term, it designates both the period in which the female of the animal species is fertile and ready to bear offspring, thus transmitting the species indefinitely and perpetuating it, but also the particular condition in which the poet, the writer, and the artist find themselves when they want to create something. This confirms that art is female, and that it takes inspiration to produce it, even if not always in a bloody manner as it happens when humans must be produced and reproduced, and especially without a cesarean section (although some poets were guillotined in 1789 and beyond). The question remains whether there is poetry in inspiration, and what exactly one should understand by poetic inspiration, when it is, after all, natural, unless one concludes that poetry itself is nature, and thus that man, precisely when he has poetic inspiration, is nothing more than determined by the species to which he belongs. Woe, however, to define a maiden too easily as "inspired": she could be as much a Rector as a Regent of the fate of the species».

Ah, finally someone who speaks of "substance," meaning the "strong" themes alluded to in my review, and not of superstructural polemics. If Lavalin didn't exist, it would need to be invented by signing up on Debaser with that very nickname. I'm going to check if I have you in my favorites in the appropriate section. Thank you!

Ah, Poletti, if they left me in a service area, I would know exactly how to get home. A dog, unfortunately, wouldn't. There’s little to joke about when it comes to the abandonment of animals, and you confirm that your sense of humor doesn’t quite align with the playful tradition of this cinema.

Hi guys, here I am temporarily pulling the strings of this nice page of comments. Of course, the time to respond to each of you is lacking, thanks to the beautiful season and the rocking chair waiting for me in the garden, but in any case: @laRock: I truly apologize to my "hostile" friends for the doubts about our identity... read them as an attempt to win their sympathy, no more and no less than what Gigi & Andrea would do if they commented here (unless they already do so under the aforementioned pseudonyms). Thank you anyway for the respect! @"hostile": what can I say, de gustibus disputandum non est, the classics warned us, and having learned the lesson, I can only present it to you as it is. However, stop looking for my fakes or any sort of double identities: I am real, I write about what I like and how I like, I do it because I enjoy communicating my thoughts and seeing them in writing, feeling the opinions of everyone as a "gloss" to the lines I write. Some like it - all those I "love" back debaserianly - some do not, but isn’t this the actual essence of reality (everything and the opposite of everything, in a drift of possible meanings)? @Dr. Adder: you know I care about you and that I would like your painting in front of the light where I write my pages. However, you should explain to me what "caramellose" means, this review doesn’t seem to me to be that. And besides, caramel melts quickly in summer. @Core-a-core: thank you for your comment, constructive in content. I can't disagree with you entirely, but synthesis requires selecting, among the various possible meanings, the one that is closest to our hearts (or core). @Chawlanka: thank you!!!!! And also to everyone who enjoys, and perhaps distracts themselves from their daily struggles and anxieties, by reading these lines. Always Yours, Il_Paolo

In "Cristina into Light", from 1996, now out of print, D'Avena effectively offered autocovers of her '80s hits (including a stunning "Nanà Supergirl") in an ambient - trip-hop style, mimicking the then-chart-topping Byork of "Debut" and, especially, "Post"!

And here come the free insults ruining the comments on Shooting Star: I prefer Ricchi & Poveri (the '80s... so a trio!) to Cream, and I don’t see what’s wrong with that. Cream, with all due respect, bores me compared to the other bands mentioned, although I consider Jack Bruce to be a great bassist (especially in Apostrophe, I like him a lot, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard him). I believe that to play bass well in a trio you "have to" be great, because in a trio the bass must serve as a rhythmic, harmonic - and even melodic in some cases - function; bassists playing in a trio cannot bluff. Not even Lemmy from Motörhead, for example. Three times Yours, Il_Paolo

Fabrizio Moro is not among the worst in the world; maybe in twenty years he could be a "minor" too. As for the interesting rising controversy surrounding the national Blasco, it's true that he has an obsession with teenage girls, but context is always important: praising them in the early '80s (Vasco in his thirties and a drug addict) is one thing, continuing to do so today (Vasco in his fifties and a family man) is another. That said, many teenagers still go crazy for Vasco and the various local Vascos; it has always been this way. My favorite song of his, in any case, is "Laura," which indeed describes the consequences stemming from certain associations... Yours truly, Il_Paolo

Beautiful and heartfelt review, both from a technical standpoint and an emotional perspective. To perform in a trio, as we know, everyone must be very good, playing (almost) for two: here’s my ranking of favorite trios, in rock and beyond: 1) Rush; 2) Police; 3) Shellac; 4) Ricchi & Poveri.

Todd has already given his best between '71 and '74.

Marco, I touch myself, and in any case I like having touched the strings of your heart, tough only in appearance ("Vendo casa" is always beautiful!). So, allow me to say that "Grazie Roma," for a funeral, is truly tacky, while Elvis's song... so-so. For such an occasion, I would love to hear played (also because it would mean that I wouldn’t be... well) the entire "Animals" album by Pink Floyd (as music, let’s say, serious), or to send everything off in style, without straying too far from my "mission," "Il mondo" and "Beguine" by Jimmy Fontana. Jerry Calà and Christian De Sica would do two brief readings of my selected reviews, and then everyone over to my place - like they do in the States - to eat camogli, capri and whatever else. My dog would be waiting for me at the gate hoping for one last walk, but a gust of wind followed by a light drizzle would make him understand that it can’t happen anymore.