omahaceleb

Oh for heaven's sake, I left a comment that I thought was harmless and instead I stirred up a bit of dust unintentionally. DavidWillecc..., peace and love to you too, but let me clarify right away that between being a superficial listener and being a completeist of an author, there are a considerable number of intermediary degrees, and it doesn't necessarily mean that skipping a disc from the 2000s of JJ automatically implies being distracted regarding his evolution. Then, I guarantee you that people here listen to the albums; and if you don't trust me, at least have faith in the two seniors here chiming in (hi odra, hi soulman, my respects!) who were able to appreciate his talent upon the release of the first albums and certainly have a much more vivid impression than mine, I who am an '85 baby and inevitably discovered Jackson much later. In any case, if I may, soulman nailed the issue. The problem for me is that Joe has come home, the prodigal son of cultured music. This is not necessarily a bad thing, it isn't always a priori, and your opinion seems to be the clear proof that the second Jackson can be liked, and a lot. But I believe that pop is a matter of intensity, immediacy, the experience of a perfect architecture that is given in flesh and blood within the song structure. Joe was an exceptional composer in the early albums because he managed to perform the miracle, nonetheless supported by an incredible production (Kershbaum is the producer of Rio by Duran Duran, let's just say he knows his stuff...). Then, in my opinion, the attention given to orchestral composition has altered his verve. And let's face it, if it weren't for Look Sharp, who knows how many of us would be here commenting on Fast Forward or how many would have sought out and listened to Blaze of Glory?

I stopped at the early 2000s works, which mainly consisted of covers of Duke Ellington and other little things. I mean, they were well played and wonderfully interpreted, but unfortunately, they went in one ear and out the other without any impact, to the point that I don't even remember the title of the album. In any case, for me, Joe Jackson remains a mystery. I will never understand what happened to him after the first two albums, what stopped him from becoming the greatest and most prolific pop talent of his generation—and beyond—since Night and Day gives you the constant feeling that the person who wrote those pieces has so many ideas and such class that he could easily churn out at least ten more just as perfect. Instead... instead no. What happened to you, Joe?

I didn't understand from the review if Pin feels more like Father Gianni or Father Maronno.

just to contradict himself in less than half an hour; I'm listening to him right now and I like it

I haven't seen them for a few years without any particular reason; I should listen to them again. caesar666 one of the best on the deb- and for a long time.

Well, I think the whole inside joking thing is spot on; while risking looking like a fool out of time, I'll throw out a couple of community clichés: they’ve grown up already screwed by the last wave of crap on MTV in open broadcast, talent shows "what a beautiful voice they have," Hannah Montana and the Winx, Finley, etc.; in other words—translated—they were born musically deterritorialized and re-territorialized, lacking the possibility to think about creating a local scene (understood as something horizontal that grows from the bottom up, you, me, and ten others from the area come together to do something in common and create a poetics, sufficiently different from what surrounds us, but at the same time communicative enough to infect those outside our circle). Music has always been served to them, in some way. So they try to create a common ground with inside joking, which is a pretty useless tribalism, sterile because it’s harmless and molded to the mindset of quick-to-consume music, already submissive in intent, music for the subdued. It’s not funny because they’re sad, very sad even in their joy. "But what about Skiantos?" Well, Eptadone is obviously crap, but just hearing that Bologna stoner slang opens up the landscape of Bologna from those years, even if you didn’t live through it, that is, the essence of a place and an era. So it’s a serious thing, very serious in its own way, and it’s also funny.

Everyone who came before me has said it all. I rediscovered them some time ago after letting "Flood" collect dust for years. I've stopped at the first three stellar albums; I stay there to avoid being disappointed.

My darling, you know how much, I mean how much I care for you. But in order to survive, I really have to do without this stuff. Not because it's horrid or tasteless, but because I absolutely can't push the accelerator on the melancholy, or else I'll plunge into the dark thoughts you know all too well. But in any case, it's a wonderful thing that you've come back to writing; believe me, when I saw "flo" written in blue on the right side of the homepage, I smiled. A big hug, beddrazza.

send them in bulk. what a fucking band marc and the mambas. like carlos, some crossed tracks a while ago but I don't remember anything. You got me listening, thanks, especially since it's the right time for these sounds.