Mark76

To the Count, we renew our esteem: he, an antifascist by intellectual intuition, deserves it as a declared enemy, honest, even heavy with resistential mythologies: who "stands," etymologically, firm in his own convictions of the "Zeitgeist," assuming a posture that, although resolutely opposed by us, manifests a dignity of its own (precious, moreover, due to a noble title to which we pay our respects). We do not believe, then, that he is as ignorant as he claims. Quite the opposite: his joyfully filtered antiracism is a clear sign, while his cadence reminiscent of G. Berto places him among the "in order" individuals who mask their uprightness with a seemingly disordered prose. Ezra Pound sang in verses and did not care for meter: but, in war, he supported the healthy side fighting against gold.

CIaltronius, as usual, hits the mark: we will respond to him privately, with the affection—virtual yet real—that binds us to him. But even the intervention of Dislocation, albeit moralizing, is no less in pinpointing some of our hyperbolic exaggerations, which are nonetheless functional to triggering a discrimination: not, mind you, of the "debate" (we being resolutely against any form of dialectic, which leads to the oblivion of Being), but of the Socratic dialogue: from which, inevitably and often suddenly, as the Zen adage teaches, emerges the most neglected semanteme of the postmodern age: the Truth. Which is now found among the skirts of the last white girl who survived the allochtone flood, or between the lines of some citationist ditty by Claudio Cecchetto, or in the declamations of a Drieu or a Mishima just before the absolute act; or, if we had to indicate a paper vehicle from the last decades, in the "opus magnum" "Cavalcare la tigre," which completes Nietzsche and updates Plato. Monks or criminals: both virtue and crime lead to the cell, but they recompose in their aversion to the "system": an alternative that does not admit Aristotelian principles of non-contradiction and that poses the urgency of an absolute choice, with which even the genius strummer from Poggio Bustone and the romantic Castelnuovo would have agreed.

Camaraderie!

The greatest of them all, with Tenco and Castelnuovo on the podium (and de André learning, with no success whatsoever).

Sorry, but to us, the Titanic conjures images of old Europe, indulging in the Belle Époque while the demo-pluto-masonic conspiracy looms on the horizon. Le fate ignoranti is the pinnacle of dissolution. Just yesterday, we dreamed that Lake Bracciano was overflowing with boats full of extra-European pariahs, rogues of every kind threatening the lives of the arioroman communities of Anguillara and Trevignano. But, providentially, a handful of whites stood as a physical wall against the foreign flood. The trouble is that these racial wars are asymmetric: on one side, the Aryan ethics of struggle and victory, based on honor and respect for the enemy, on the other, the sullen, deceptive, and chaotic guerrilla of the Levantine rabble.

I knew Vannucci, the communist priest who was a friend of Turoldo, two modernists used as scarecrows for how ugly they were; they were also little poets worth next to nothing but glorified by the hypocritical and pharisaical couches of the Ghetto and Piazza del Gesù. I give Cialtronio a 5 because I find him likable and he doesn’t get lost in intellectualism.

Excellent review. The record suffers from the theoretical impossibility, "post eventum," of composing in a well-disguised integration the Jew Reed and the Valkyrie Nico (what a hell of a name for a aria of the West!). The remnants of the relationship between the two inept ones make listening impossible to Indo-European ears; one can glimpse between the grooves of the little opera the fatal horse fall of the blonde Teuton. The background figurines (the overrated dandy Bowie, the vintage "salon" demon Pop, the exhausted Warhol, the chthonic deviant La Monte Young) make the obscene offspring absolutely indigestible. In a word, this album really sucks.

I knew Stone Soup, a great hard AOR band, who released an excellent debut in '97 (S/T).

dreamy, nervous, melancholic and happy…something between a sleepless night and the school bell at noon...

Well done! With a few adjectives and two ordinary images, yet of rare semantic depth, you have defined a crucial inner landscape that is otherwise elusive.

Excellent record, excellent review. In our humble opinion, "Disintegration" is in the "top ten" of albums from the '80s.

Well done, Cialtronius!

It's a very good time, after almost ten years of unemployment, sporadic under-the-table jobs, bills paid with blood, and radiators turned off at minus three degrees, for a year now, I have started working again.

We take pleasure in this, wishing you all the best. We are not interested in these electronic modernists that you review; but we will give five stars to encourage you along the hard path of human existence: whose end coincides with the Ultimate End. "Vita est militia super terram". However, we must always keep in mind that work, and its presumed absolute necessity, constitutes one of the many prejudices of the modern world.