nix

P.S.
LendryWhite, leave alone the fifty-year-olds trying to act like they're twenty. We all have our weaknesses.
On the other hand, the twenty-year-olds who comment on entire artistic careers as if they were fifty is not a better sight either.

I remember buying this CD on the recommendation of a magazine I used to read passionately at the time (it was L'Ultimo Buscadero). I found it to be a well-made album, no doubt about it—well sung, well played, well everything—but after a few days, the CD was tucked away among a hundred others, where it remained untouched for years.
I couldn't say why I have no desire to listen to it again. Perhaps it's the fact that it's a sad album, devoid of even a hint of irony, impeccable yet terribly sad and serious.
But this is a personal matter that may interest little or nothing to the readers. There is one thing, however, that I can state decisively. I disagree with the reviewer about the historical importance of this work. This album, in my opinion, hasn't changed a thing. It's the brilliant debut of a talented artist who died prematurely. We don't know how his career would have progressed. A brilliant debut like many others. Great material, strong professionalism, good inspiration, but... that's where it ends. Little originality. No joy.
As for the judgments on Dylan... the reviewer seems like someone who would critique Picasso's technical abilities in figurative drawing. Please!
A so-so review, anyway, of an album that I personally don't love. However, from the tone of his responses, I glimpse a certain potential. I trust that LendryWhite will be able to write more interesting things in the future.

Recently, I happened to read by chance a splendid novel on the theme: "Little Big Man" by Thomas Berger (1964). A splendid novel, 500 pages that you read in one breath. The protagonist is a white man kidnapped by the Indians as a child and raised among them. Two souls made enemies by History in one heart. If you come across it, remember this advice. I know that a film was made based on it with Dustin Hoffman and Faye Dunaway.

Ah... what beautiful memories linked to this very bright album. By the way, I remember the joy of finding an EP in the packaging of the vinyl I bought back then, an EP that was almost more beautiful than the record itself (De...Marga... didn’t miss that). These are small joys that those born into CDs and raised navigating mp3s (or flac or ape when we're lucky) cannot understand. Don't get me wrong, long live digital, I'm not debating that. But vinyl was vinyl! And this record (which received very positive reviews) reminds me of that.

gaston, a review like this can be fine for Anna Tatangelo's latest album. For one of the masterpieces of pop music of all time, I expect something more. Hopefully, the next one will be better. Take care.

a really well done review. A great movie. Also the second one.
I find the third one to be a film that would have been better not made, at least not in that way. The scene of the murder of the politician with the eyeglass rod is of a very low level. The reference to Andreotti (il potere logora...) is of intolerable clumsiness. A film that without Pacino's virtuosity would easily end up in "B-movie" territory. The first two are absolute masterpieces, comparable to the great films of Sergio Leone.
Congratulations joe strummer!

Excellent review.
When I was in middle school, in the late '70s, our teacher would make us listen to "alla fiera dell'est," and we all listened, spellbound. That's how I started to follow this very strange singer-songwriter, entirely aloof from the contemporary Italian reality, that "real" which all singer-songwriters, in one way or another, interpreted and conveyed—some more politically aligned (e.g., Finardi), others more akin to poetry (e.g., De Andrè or De Gregori).
What struck me and all the friends who appreciated him (many, in truth) was his stubbornness in rigorously following the artistic path he had chosen from the very beginning. Never a variation, never a novelty. Always splendidly crafted records, with a technique and refinement in arrangements that were absolutely unique in the world of Italian singer-songwriters. To find this level of formal care, you had to look outside Italy, perhaps in English progressive rock. Many beautiful songs, full of melody.
And all of this in an Italy of turmoil and bombs, in the full years of lead.
I remember the first live show, a triple one, aptly mentioned by Zimmy. A work of stratospheric technical level. The summa of his oeuvre.
Branduardi, produced and organized by that genius David Zard, filled stadiums! Seeing Branduardi in 1979 was a bit like seeing Peter Gabriel's Genesis in 1973. The audience was the same and had the same enthusiasm.
Then suddenly, for reasons that would be fascinating to delve into if someone is willing, he fell out of fashion. I remember well his first commercial flop. It was 1981. The album "Branduardi" (the one with "Amico") did not succeed, and it was the beginning of the end. Everything was very rapid. From 1982 onwards, Branduardi no longer interested anyone, or almost anyone.
His vinyl records have always been highly sought after by shops and collectors.
I believe he has not "died" artistically, and Bromike's favorable review proves it. Rather, the proportion of his phenomenon changed: from a musician who fills stadiums to a very niche artist who sings in theaters in front of a few hundred people.
I am of the opinion that an in-depth study of the "Branduardi" phenomenon allows us to understand many, many things about the history of Italian pop music.

a pleasant and well-crafted review of an insignificant album.

well-made review. Watch out for the coordinator. Mine is a nasty piece of work.

Between experimentation, jazz, and prog. Frankly, it was not very competitive compared to the wave of fierce progressive artists active in Italy during those very years. An artistic project that was fragile, still to be developed, if it weren't for the fact that this artist passed away in 1986, due to breast cancer, at the young age of 42.