Dislocation

DeRank : 22,33 • DeAge™ : 3007 days

Voto:
I had in mind to delight you and, at the same time, educate you with a brief yet detailed digression on the latest developments in hallux valgus micro-surgery, perhaps with metatarsal realignment and subsequent use of custom-made orthotics.
But I am polite and kind-hearted, so I will move directly to the conclusions.
The production and choice of sounds in the Nannini career have never been so on point and fitting as in this record.
Then darkness.
Her, I’m speaking for myself, I could never stand, both as a character and as a singer. Her dragged-out vowels, her unfinished phrases, her desire to hit the distracted listener with catchy little phrases from a middle school anthology—though, lacking consciousness, her ostentatious anarchism of a daddy's girl, and what a dad..., her singing is awkward, to say the least, shouted and lamented...
Pleasant as a fart in an elevator.
But, as I repeat, I’m speaking for myself.
The review itself I actually didn’t mind at all; on the contrary.
It’s her who ruins my pre-lunch.
Voto:
I don't know why this review slipped away from me when it came out.
But, after all, a lot of things have been slipping away from me lately, from my fingers and my mouth.
I really liked the second part of your writing, fitting the spirit of many of VC's compositions, so fragmented and fragmentary but, viewed from above, actually part of a whole that is sometimes understandable, often just intuitive, and at times only known to him, it seems to me.
Voto:
The Redoccillippeppers have done much more, and we don't even know if even with that "much more" they will pass into the history of rock and roll. Nevertheless, we like them so much and we thank you for allowing us to speak with Antonichiddis in person personally. Even though he always did the talking.
Voto:
An entry in the everlasting pages of DeBaser like this hasn’t been seen for a while.
And we would have, in the absence of this, still slept our nights in great serenity, in our immaculate pajamas, after slowly gulping down a warm and invigorating linden tea.
But patience.
Voto:
I never loved Jethro too much, I listened to them with pleasure but never adored them…
The work is indeed remarkable, even if, wrongly, one wants to consider it just a useful testimony of the time…
And then you are right, we really should try to bring together in one "scope" the directors who, at the beginning or in the midst of noble careers, engaged in the philological documentation of such events, which at the time were truly snubbed by the cinema audience not directly interested in the 'youth music' sector, as it was called back then…
I don’t know, I’m reminded of a D.A. Pennebaker who moved from Dylan to Depeche Mode with the same "documentary" spirit…
And how many others…
Voto:
Disco disappointment.
Not like your review.
Voto:
I’ve never read it, and now you’ve made me want to.
Oasis Whatever
23 jun 22
Voto:
I've always liked Oasis, as long as they're taken in moderation and without looking them in the face. If a neo Britpop movement from the nineties really existed, and if it's true that they were the best-selling band in terms of records, it's also true that this is the clearest demonstration of the inverse proportionality between artistic/technical value and marketability.
Voto:
I really don’t know #nulladinulla about what you claim, so I’ll just praise you this way, abstractly but sincerely. The swift, like the swallow, chirps or, rather, sings. Never does it coo; rather, it hides in a dignified silence, but it never coos.
Voto:
The most overrated singer in the world of Italian music. He can't sing, he’s tone-deaf, he has never remembered two verses in a row, not even when he was thirty; he has always draped his old songs in ridiculously stupid pseudo-comedic antics. He has always exploited, the verb is quite fitting, the talent of his sidekicks, even when they wrote lyrics teetering on the verge of grammatical crime or with populist-platitudinous content, featuring occasionally pleasant musical parts, while other times they are saccharine and unnecessarily glazed over. The mystery of why so many Italians love him remains.