telespallabob

Compared to the previous albums, it's a whole different life. In fact, those who had been blasting them in their ears for a while wanted to think about blowing their brains out. Exactly as you described.

Here on DeB I've already shared how I met them. I want to emphasize it since we've come to this point. Yes, I met them with "Sfortuna." Yes, before that I didn't know them and didn't care. For me, they were a flash; I was just drinking a beer (two debaseriani were there and can confirm) and I was feeling down. I see these guys. With guitars at 300 dB, with Jacopo sweating and banging his head on the microphone. They scream, screech, and make a ruckus. There were about 30 people not caring about them (there was the grassy area in front of them, who could forget) but those 20 are in a frenzy. And that's the beauty of it: whether it's 20 or 2000, they are the ones that matter. And at the end of the concert, they grab a beer, chat with those 20 while taking pictures and signing autographs. Sweaty, dirty, and having a blast. They played before Isis; it was 2009. I want this kind of people, I want the chaos on stage, people who are having fun and doing it because they love it, everything else doesn't count. They make the audience sweat and bounce, diving right into them. For me, that's also what rock is. This album drives me crazy: the guitars scream and explode, the singer shouts, a couple of lines are memorable. And who cares if I love Dublin: when they come to Brescia, I go and buy them this album. It's been on loop for two days; there must be a reason for that. Then, whatever. I answer questions, but if you tell me "they suck," I don't give a damn. I'm with Terry, at least in words. If she wants to stick around for real, I won’t complain :D

Well, you're asking too much. Perhaps it's because, as respectable as they are, neither she nor the group has ever truly convinced me. A few good pieces and nothing more.

Returning home with one more number equals hooking up? A mystery of faith. In fact, I was surprised by the events; normally, what you described happens. In general, I thank you for the affection. @MorgueOfAbsinth, now that you mention it, is it normal that there are often stunning girls taking pictures under the stages, under certain stages? Here too, a mystery. @Woodstock, we were in trouble if I was really missed.

And those who are in Padania, what do they do? Do they get stuck to the records? It would be a shame.

I like them! Come on, and please, take off the T-B-T because it’s absolutely awful!

Theater really gets on my nerves. And yet, I always go to see it. Why? Because it puts everything in. It's a stage animal. I like the ODM a little bit. And yet, I listen to this album and it excites me. That's fine, the important thing is that it minds its own business and doesn’t rise up as a champion, a role I used to think it was playing. Otherwise, you’re asking for trouble. I won’t buy the new album, but it will pass through Brescia and I’ll go listen to it. Probably...

Carlo Petrini non rinuncia ad attaccare"Soldi, truffe e doping: è il calcio di sempre" - Il Fatto Quotidiano A beautiful interview. I read this from Petrini, the one where Rivera (who may have been the first Italian to win the Ballon d'Or but pontificated too much, remaining aligned and subservient to the God of Football) called him a pornographer (it's titled "Barefoot," it's chilling) and the one about Bergamini. Petrini is a modern Faust: between a kick to a ball, a pill, a syringe, and a fling, he sold his soul to Satan. He was sacrificed by the first of the devils because the latter had disobeyed his Lord. He went to hell, but it's all special... made of loneliness, poverty, and illness (the story of his son's last days is a monstrous condemnation, one to wish even upon the worst of monsters). For 30 years, he has been condemned but writes to redeem others and prevent them from falling into his mistake. And he writes well, with the sincerity of someone who has everything to say and nothing to lose because he believes in his words. Because, unlike Faust, 24 years have passed but there are those who, at thirty, didn't make it. He was killed by the henchmen of Satan, and only Petrini had the courage to tell his story. He is not a saint; he knows it too, but he is a true man. One who makes mistakes and gets back up. Unfortunately for us, it's more important to sell oneself than to make mistakes because mud, scars, and shit scare us. If only we had more Men like Petrini, Sollier, Zigoni, and Vendrame. The other three fared a little better, but the false and gilded world of the God of Football is exactly what this book describes. Ah, a note on the review: in my opinion, you're wrong. It should be read by those who love football, to understand what it is and face it with the right antibodies. Knowing that in a world where everyone wants to save face, the only ones who put in the effort are the ones who pay: the Ultras.

"After resigning themselves to the 70 minutes of 'Contro.Luce,' even winning the Superenalotto six times, even finding a permanent job seems like an irreparable disaster. Dangerous stuff. Things that poison the soul." I don't know him, I don't know what he does, and I don't know what this album looks like, but when someone listens and speaks like this, it boils down to two things: either it's crap or it's beautifully terrifying. It's a risk, and something tells me it's worth it.