carlo cimmino

I had completely forgotten about these. I've always found the bespectacled one likable. I appreciated some of his "solo" work and I think I actually prefer him in this role. The Blur? A decent band and nothing more as far as I'm concerned.

Captain, I’m responding quite late. Sorry about that. That said, I have no intention of debating the quality of "Ballate per...", what you say about Italian television (comment no. 65) is true. It's a conversation I agree with: so much so that I don't define Sanremo as an anachronistic event (nor does a singing competition seem to me something shameful... despite all the inevitable squabbles and issues expected from the music industry, but let’s not get into that or we’ll never finish). The bad taste in an event like Sanremo is the same that we have to endure every day when we turn on the television, the radio, and in everyday life, given that television created man in its own image and likeness. What we completely disagree on is the "why" of the Afterhours at Sanremo: I say that filling shopping centers with one's album doesn't "serve," especially to the more or less young listeners of the Afterhours. kosmogabri, I think Dolcenera is a man.

I will never get tired of tearing apart this masterpiece. This guy doesn't say a damn thing. Maybe that's why it "works." Captain, I wasn't there - on Debaser - in August 2008, but why exclude the possibility that, simply, after the first listens many realized that there isn’t much difference between Ligabue's lyrics (I liked the comparison made by Alessio, but in my opinion, this doesn't even reach the "artistic peaks" of early Ligabue, and instead resembles the latest) and those of le luci della centrale?

(Is it stuff for fascists and pseudo-metalheads?)

The greatest Italian writer (and not just that). I absolutely agree. Great choice, puntini, because I believe this is one of the least praised texts by Sciascia. But that doesn't mean it's one of the worst. It should be read in schools. I liked the review: after all, it was about reviewing a simple story.

I believe I’m one of the few who prefers fIREHOSE to the undeniably flawless Minutemen. The cover of this album is a small masterpiece. Just like the album itself (I prefer fROMOHIO—by the way, that’s a great cover too—but those are details). I recently saw George Hurley play with Mayo Thompson, and he’s still an incredible drummer. Not to mention a real son of a bitch. In my opinion, they are - unfairly - undervalued.

Beautiful.

Five? It was actually one.

I read and comment on this review after having read the one about the festival written by telespallabob. I’ve never particularly loved Afterhours (whom I personally don’t find to be in decline… are you sure that the "disco delle iene" is so much worse than their other works? I haven’t even listened to the latest one), nor did I like the song – bland in the chorus, but I reconsider it in the acoustic version "live in Gialappas" – nonetheless, yes, it is by far superior to the average Sanremo of the last thirty years and beyond. It’s true that Manuel Agnelli has always been quite the climber and, like only Caterina Caselli knows how to be, foresighted when it comes to the market, but the choice to go to Sanremo is questionable both artistically and ideologically. Isn't it true that we don’t live on poetry and rebellion alone? This is true. But this world shouldn’t just live on advertising either. And then, let’s be clear, they could dissect a few corpses (you'll have to explain this one to me someday, if you feel like it) even Afterhours from time to time to make ends meet.

Huge review. Telespalla, let me tell you my thoughts. I don’t see naturalness, simplicity, friendliness, and lightness in this festival, but only a lot, too much vulgarity. This is not the television I like (but maybe I just don’t like television at all), this is not the music I like, this is not the country I like. Fanfare for the bunnies, old ladies in underwear - or less - and clichés about homosexuality, government (with a lowercase g), and Italy. I’m also tired of Benigni's good-hearted satire, but that’s just my personal opinion (like the others, for that matter). As always, the shadow of the god of money and the werewolf record producers, hungry for money and power, looms over the outcomes of the competition: thus, one who sings clichés worthy of the worst Gigliola Cinquetti wins, rewarded by a look that makes her ridiculous and objectively ugly more than by her voice, and a certain Marco Carta, a Mediaset man, on the very evening when the guest of honor is Maria De Filippi, who has crossed into Rai and is ready to take over the national screen. I save the Gialappas, but they are good even when commenting on the neighborhood foosball tournament of Montecalvario.