nix

...good good, there's nothing to do...

This review tells me that I’m old and that my style is vintage market stuff, not even ugly, perhaps nice a while back, but even cleaning it with the right products, today it irreparably reveals its origin (from a stall at Porta Palazzo, of course). This is me, this is what your piece tells me.
Not that it’s a masterpiece (but then again, neither are my reviews), yet there’s a lightning-fast irony, a nervousness, a gleeful malice, a pleasant annoyance (pleasant on the edge, you know) that makes one imagine a youthful and healthy muscle (of the hands on the keyboard, and therefore presumably of everything else).
I can’t tell if that scruffy air of the wording is elegantly crafted or the result of a couple of beers (or something else). In any case, I don’t mind. If it’s the beers that contribute to that charming sloppiness, I wonder how you write when you mind the form. I’d be curious.
So what can I say? Bravo and Go to hell. One star and five stars.

Well, since I belong to both categories

In short, the shops have disappeared, but this is not a trivial difference. A shop had regular customers, an atmosphere, a sense of community. The market or the stall no longer allows for the meeting of this humanity, made up of characters like those described in the review.

I am also from Turin and I had double the fun reading the brilliant review, as well as the comments. I revisited a world that no longer exists, the world of used vinyl records, that environment of former hippies and incredibly knowledgeable, albeit nerdy, outcasts. A world that disappeared approximately with the early 2000s, due to the advent of digital technology. I laughed seeing many legendary characters from my city and my adolescence, the old hateful owner of Rock and Folk, Maurizio Blatto from Backdoor (another strong personality), about whom I even read a book titled "l'ultimo disco dei mohicani." Anyway, it seems that vinyl, which never completely disappeared, is making a comeback. I hope so. I dream of a coexistence between vinyl and digital. Ten minutes of pure enjoyment, thanks to imasoulman, odradek, and others.

As for the record, it is one of those “container works,” in which a band, to make itself known or for other unknown reasons, puts all its skills, abilities, trends, or even simple fascinations into one album. The result is "encyclopedic" works containing everything and more. Works that provide a panoramic snapshot of their time. The first from Chicago is one of the best examples.

For those interested, I recommend the best "container work" I have ever heard, which is "escalator over the hill" by musician Carla Bley (wife of the great pianist Paul Bley), recorded in 1971. There too, you will find everything and more, created at the highest quality levels.

Congratulations. Five and five without hesitation.

A dignified review.
I don't agree with Twiggy Trace.
I agree with emandelli that Caputo has been a criminally underrated artist. Some of his songs are still remembered by my peers (class of 1965), even though nearly three decades have passed.
In general, we remember the worst and the best things from three decades ago. Caputo certainly doesn't fall among the worst things.
That phrase from "sabato italiano": "...the worst seems to be over..." says much more about the eighties than one might think. It refers to the work week, but I've always seen it as a phrase about the end of an era: the seventies, of baton charges, lead, and explosives. That phrase, to a swinging rhythm, spoke of the beginning of a new decade, filled with long nights, hedonism, fun, cocktails, jazz, fashion, and glam.

Reading this, I revisited those Italian '80s. Of course, I remember them with deep nostalgia because I was a teenager and having a blast. But then I thought about how ridiculous Italians were.
HOW COULD WE HAVE BEEN LIKE THAT? That's the question.
In my opinion, you picked a case that perfectly captures the essence of that era, namely the case of a character constructed in a lab.
Completely false, to the point that when the REAL Luis Miguel emerged, people realized he was far from "the true friend you don't have," but a poor fool who ruined his career with a scam.
Years of regime, falsehoods, constructed. Revisited today, ugly and ridiculous.
But it was my adolescence. I would go back if I could.
Well done, I truly appreciated it.

Oh, I almost forgot another important adjective: mysterious character.

Luludia, keep in mind that my favorite artist is Bill Evans, as far from Monk as you can get. Still, I repeat, an extraordinary character and artist, one of a kind and unforgettable.

I love Monk the musician. How could I not love him? However, Monk the pianist was, in my opinion, not always "on point." That strange way he plays the piano, in certain records where he accentuates his originality, I can't hide that it sometimes embarrasses me. For example, I remember him in a record with Art Blakey from 1957 where it’s truly awkward. Then there are also some beautiful recordings (like those with Coltrane). In short, a great composer, a uniquely original pianist but erratic. That’s the summary. Additionally, I find the recorded output from his very last years a bit boring. Of course, he was an extraordinary character.