Dislocation

@[templare] So... Steve Howe plays the solo with the Gibson ES35 on "The Murder of Love" while Davide Silviano, who was initially supposed to produce the entire album, plays keyboards and synths here and there; he has the keyboard line in "PMachinery" and a few other scattered bits...

@[AlephZero] Since the brave @[vibration] is talking about audiocassettes, a topic that's quite #oldfart, well, in my esteemed opinion, he is worthy of being part of the aforementioned little group, in every way... And so be it!

Edit to the review: “Errors and punctuation. Fixed.” See the old version A Secret Wish - Propaganda - recensione Versione 4

Here I am, guilty of being almost abyssally late, due to the frantic search for a c90 that had this record (and on the back, Six Pianos by Reich, the alien)... I found it, in the cellar, it still sounds decent and it's the messy mix of informality and strange beauty that I only vaguely remembered... Guitars, bass, and assorted keyboards. The voice deliberately kept at a minimum of feelings and physical effort.
Beautiful page, I enjoyed it.
Ah, anyway, "incaleidoscopiata" is just unbearable; I know for sure that reading this term, Professor @[lector] had an external hemorrhoid flare-up, and as a direct consequence, a slight nosebleed followed, a bit higher up.

Thanks to you, also for the sweat...

Eh.

Applause and standing ovation.

Nice album, much more than decent, he’s always him, always with his head held high, words and music, as always, at the highest levels of composition and comprehensibility for the audience. The unforgettable Umbertino (no, I never forget him when I talk about the Genoese school...) placed at the service of simple, not easy, music—immediately captivating and not taken for granted—deep lyrics, bittersweet reflections on feelings and their transience. Well done, Rallo!

I believe that the brave @[rallocj] deliberately chose to review a million-seller album like this one instead of the masterpiece milestone that was Pet Sounds. In my opinion, it’s more of a personal tirade than a technical-scientific review (of which we see far too many around here...) on such an overly commercial product, entirely devoid of any significance other than assigning the Beach Boys the task of perpetuating something built in a lab, against their will, completely outside of their habits and inclinations (the late, lamented, and never sufficiently appreciated Dennis Wilson, just to name one, could surf; the others only held a surfboard for the ritual photos...). The U.S. discography was interested in exploiting the WASP trend of that period, the early '60s, which saw young Californians all blonde, beautiful, fit, tanned, and with a surfboard under their arm, and the music of Our Boys fit perfectly with the industry’s desires. That same industry, faced with the scandalous demonstrations of the BB's instrumental expertise, didn’t hesitate for a moment to replace them—no less—with the Wrecking Crew, experienced session musicians called in to first fill in the technical gaps of the boys and then to completely replace them, since it’s proven that throughout the '60s, on many records, Our Boys did nothing but provide their sublime voices, indeed, in service of Brian's increasingly complex and elaborate music. The vocal harmonies of the BB remain a steadfast reference point for anyone approaching vocals in rock and who isn't satisfied with just uttering a couple of phrases into a microphone casually. Great job, Rallo!

T'ou chi, the besugu has been waiting years to write...
Belinun!
Love and Beatles on repeat, it was said back then, and we expected that this stunning record would enter the charts week after week... these sold way fewer than the Prefab and more than the Room, to put it that way, but this album remains a gem of unusual pop purity, where pop is used in the noblest sense of the term, designating a product accessible to many, almost everyone, packaged with methods and procedures (from composition to recording) that reflect the talent of both creators and performers, the technical skill, the quality of the recording, and a production that is never over the top, as well as a rare respect, then as now, for the audience regarded as an independent entity, the consumer of the aforementioned product, thus worthy of attention never, by the way, to be exchanged with the expression of the aforementioned talent.
What can I say... Come on, Andre, produce, between a catheter and a saline drip, produce some more!