nix

...they thought they could get to me... ahaaaaa

I had been suspicious for quite some time about who was hiding behind the word Lector. I kept thinking to myself, "this is Toni, this is Toni, mmmmh, this joke sounds like Toni, here’s something that only Toni would…". Now, finally, I have reached my confirmation and the resulting CERTAINTY. Only a magician can write something like this. Toni Binarelli, you’ve been caught! Ahahaha, surprised, huh?

a loquacious cardboard box from a former punk from the Montello area of Treviso on consignment? WOW!!!

Cialtronius, I discovered that you can write reviews that are practically fit for publication in, I don’t know, Repubblica or La Stampa — smooth, well-documented pieces, really well done.
For this reason, this review seems slightly below your standard (which, I repeat, is high). You say very little.
I agree that the film is a blast. These actors (but also Sordi, Gassman, and many others I won’t bother to mention here) have turned "comedy" into something sublime, capable of lightly (yet deeply) telling the story of Italy and Italians to the whole world.
Then came the 1980s, and the "comedy" genre, once sublime, was reduced to "cinepanettone," because we Italians often love to tarnish the beautiful things we possess (and forgive me the cliché), but that’s another story.
Four for the piece and five for the film, and best regards to everyone.

Congratulations, it's an almost perfect review, free of egocentric affectations, clear, precise, and well-documented. Five stars given with pleasure.

It's a mysterious album. I believe that the only way to access this work without hurting yourself is to study, to reconstruct the world of Captain Beefheart during those years, everything that this extraordinary musician had in his mind at that time. If you don't historicize it, reconstructing the artistic environment that birthed it, you really encounter a monolith (the image is spot on). You risk damaging your stereo, losing girlfriends, harming your hearing. In short, those who have "studied" it consider it an absolute masterpiece. Scaruffi considers it the greatest album of all time. Those who listened to it like they would listen to an Eric Clapton record have harmed themselves. The review is entertaining, but you too (like me and quite a few others, judging by the comments) haven't managed to unveil the mystery of this work.

I'm sorry, VinnySparrow, I appreciate your cinematic and journalistic/literary proposals that I always read with curiosity, but I find these album reviews, especially those about Pink Floyd, truly superfluous. You mix essential historical data with childish and superficial aesthetic judgments, resulting in a final outcome that trivializes everything.
Perhaps you didn't deserve all the bitterness directed at you, but I believe that most of your detractors were irritated precisely because of the banality with which you treat Pink Floyd and perhaps other artists. At times, I also felt a certain egocentrism in rejecting criticism, which certainly didn't help.
You excel at identifying interesting books and films, I acknowledge that, and that's why I always read you, but your music reviews just don't work.
Of course, Merry Christmas and a Happy 2016!

I have always found these things very intriguing and interesting. I should point out that I don't believe in God, nor in the existence of extraterrestrial life that may have reached us. Precisely because I am melancholically skeptical, I am drawn to all the incredibly complicated human dynamics that underlie a story like this. In other words, I believe that stories like these arise from a blend of various ingredients. At least three elements mixed in various ways:

1) There is always a psychiatric or psychoanalytic fact that often serves as the initial spark that ignites the powder keg. The psychiatric or psychoanalytic fact sees the protagonist in good faith, but it remains a psychiatric or psychoanalytic fact. In short, the protagonist is not lying; he is sincere. He has genuinely experienced certain things, though only in his mind.

2) Then there is a second level, consisting of fraudulent characters or mythomaniacs. These individuals come into play with interpretative efforts and searches for evidence and clues. These second characters shamelessly lie for various interests, not least economic ones.

3) The third wave is that of conspiracy theorists. Conspiracy theorists base their beliefs on the protagonist's experience and latch onto the false evidence added by the fraudsters, developing, deepening, and adding new elements. The conspiracy theorist group is fundamentally well-intentioned. They are people who truly believe it, not motivated by clever or economic reasons. Conspiracy theorists are capable of constructing incredibly intricate and almost convincing evidentiary frameworks. They connect elements (though in a highly debatable manner), identify evidence (equally debatable), in short, they are capable of performing miracles. Normally, they do this in good faith.

But it's all false. The truth is always a psychiatric or psychoanalytic fact, meaning something that has occurred in a person's mind. Everything else is various humanity driven to develop the "case" for the most diverse reasons. That's how I see it. I assure you that I would be happy to be wrong. It would be wonderful. Anyway, the matter is interesting.

a record still today struck by an inflation of useless reviews. Despite the inflationary phenomenon, you managed to bring added value and write an interesting piece. A bit dense, a few breaks would have made it easier to read. Still interesting.

I don't know this album, but the description you provide of this music could almost apply, word for word, to a Pere Ubu album I recently listened to, specifically "Song of the Bailing Man" released in 1982. It seems to me that it's something very similar. If you liked this album, I recommend you revisit that work by Pere Ubu: "between folk, jazz, and cabaret, all distorted, unrecognizable, not emptied, rather rendered ever more intimate. Feverishly." to use your words for this album, which fit perfectly for that one. Personally, while I adore the first four albums by that group (which were definitely something else), I confess that I struggled quite a bit to digest "Bailing Man." After that album, Pere Ubu disbanded (only to be reborn six years later). Good review.