cappio al pollo

Welcome to DeBaser. Great choice to kick off your career as a reviewer. True, the review isn't much, but today is Christmas and we're all in a better mood; in the future, if I may offer you some advice, avoid the track-by-track format, as on DeBaser it's regarded not as the Devil—which, given the huge crowd of crap enthusiasts on the site, would be a good thing—but rather as if it were the Archangel Gabriel himself. As for the album, I echo Pihead's sentiment about "it's not so much the content as the attitude." Also worth mentioning is that "Some Candy Talking," one of my favorites, was not included in the original album release, but was initially part of the self-titled EP and was added later—alas, only in a couple of CD print editions—to the tracklist. And, well, what else to say? One of the few breakthrough points of rock and roll Ah, the eighties were beautiful, and what a year 1985 was—speaking of Beat Happening and New Day Rising—featuring Tim, Psychocandy, Halber Mensch, and all that jazz. Far from "People from Ibiza"... and then they complain and say the eighties were crap.

In the meantime, what a beautiful page. I read all the comments in one breath, and it was the most evocative experience I've had in the last few days. What I wanted to say is that I think we should define "music," "note," and "sound" before embarking on this brand new topic for which some foundations were laid a few comments ago. By instinct, notes are conventionally reproduced by "calibrated" musical instruments according to a conventional logic, but that doesn't change the fact that any sound, produced with any other instrument/object, has its own frequency and duration, just like a note. Think about when you tap two fingers on your cheeks (who doesn’t do that these days?) modulating the shape and stiffness of your lips to reach the desired frequency, and how another could be layered upon this, reproduced in other ways, thus creating harmony, dissonance, etc., without using conventional means (musical instruments), conventional frequencies (the 440 Hz of the well-known reference A, for example), etc. Well, what the hell was I trying to say? I don't know, but it could be a start. And here's a help: In short, here notes, music, and harmony are reproduced without a proper musical instrument, demonstrating that there is no difference between sounds and notes. The core lies in the use made of them. Schaeffer said something ridiculous. Perhaps thinking about how musical the rhythm of percussion can be, I don't know, but as far as I'm concerned, they produce pure notes as well.

To give this album less than four stars, you must either be the new heir of Scarffi, or have ears lined with the finest guano. The 2 of teenagelobotomy is irrelevant, it holds roughly the same significance as a fart from a bean stew in an overcrowded barn. John Cale's version of Hallelujah is so monumental that it paved the way for Jeff Buckley’s, who bears no guilt if someone later chose to "sponsor" one over the other, just as it is not a fault to be a "pretty sulky blond" (?),– how reliable can the comment from someone who thought Jeff Buckley was Kurt Cobain be? – especially if you have something to say and the talent to say it. Perhaps Jeff Buckley's only fault was not adhering to what people would expect from "a pretty sulky blond," or maybe simply the demerit of not being born with the features of Max Gazzè. Or perhaps it was having packed so much substance into an album that it recalled a multifaceted quality not seen since the days of 154 by Wire – no parallels, obviously. Or that he started a Thom Yorke (to name one), who at the time was almost a screamer, to croon like him. And maybe that he didn’t reach the extraterrestrial heights touched by his father. In short, the truth is that Jeff Buckley’s only fault is not really his. Jeff Buckley’s only fault has been the fans, the fanatics who ripped their hair out for Elvis, for the Beatles, Kurt Cobain and the like.