Dislocation

DeRank : 22,33 • DeAge™ : 3007 days

Voto:
You have managed to entertain us with a work that is nothing short of insignificant yet sadly pretentious, along with its author, truly one of the worst practitioners, and, to boot, one of the writers of the Italian horizon.

One, he, Antonaccio, who, for heaven's sake, has repeatedly called himself an "Italian singer-songwriter," much like if I were to declare myself a devoted Sampdoria fan, impossible even to contemplate.

He, possessing one of the most unpleasant voices in the national and, thanks to him, international landscape.

He, the creator of a repertoire as substantial as that tuna which, you'll recall, breaks with a breadstick.

In short, I am about to resort to insults against someone who doesn't even deserve it, so great is his non-existence.

But the brave @[Almotasim] has managed, with such a lack of ingredients, to deliver a review of excellent quality, he, that infamous scoundrel.

@[Almotasim], I mean.
Voto:
I bought it when it came out, I remember it as a good pop record, refined but not overly polished, organized but not too primped, less shiny than "Rumours," which still remains the great album it was.
Well, I listened to it again, but I didn't find any new wave or punk influences, except in the approach to the creation of the tracks, because the execution remains typical of a great vintage pop, good even today.
If we want to find another flaw, it would lie in the length of Buckingham and Co.'s exposition; let's say it could have benefited from some trimming, cutting, and avoiding excesses and clichés here and there...
Voto:
I think I’ve already said it, Rossi has never taken highways and, to be honest, not even state roads; he’s the one for the paths that are sometimes accessible by off-road vehicles, and sometimes almost not even on foot. When Fausto Rossi records, it's never by chance nor without purpose; he openly cites his influences and explains them in his own way, not one word more or one less. Always, despite every change, with the wave and the Bowie/Reed duo in his ears... I know musicians, I’ve known some, even famous ones, but I really envy your acquaintance with Rossi, you big bastard.
Voto:
A desire to return again, yes.
Timid little wrinkles around two eyes like bright lapis lazuli, yes.
The curls that adorn her forehead, certainly.
Allow me, dear Enea, to point out how, amidst improbable combinations of sandwich bread and indigestible side dishes, between inclement weather and traffic that unfolds in directions inconceivable to us, well, all of this fades in light of the missed vivid yet almost painful description of the wonderful physical appearance of sweet Carol, which we can only imagine but which you, as the gentleman you are, refrain from describing, choosing instead to dwell on the beauty of her eyes and the splendor of her hair.
In short, you didn’t stay long at those shores, you drove poorly, you listened to stale music performed by a former Great Artist who is now bloated and struggling, yet still deserving of the utmost respect.
And you didn’t even conclude, in a biblical sense, with the charming daughter of Albion, missing a splendid opportunity to further demonstrate the insurmountable superiority, in such matters, of the Latin peoples, whom you so unworthily, let me say, represented on this occasion.
I leave in indignation.
Voto:
As @[IlConte] would say: Ah ah ah ah ah...
As @[dsalva] would say: "Oh, signur"
As @[sfascia carrozze] would say: #Mabbaccagai!
Everyone has already said everything, consider yourself satisfied.
Voto:
The little stars...
Voto:
Whether to do it or not, the situation boils down to this: reduce the first seventy to years sung only by the two, albeit great, of your mention.
You denounce the Zeppelin discography as diminished in value after 'Presence' by the voice of Pianta.
Burn the production of the aforementioned artist like you would shit on the snow.
The fact that you present yourself to the Debaser audience with a sparse and approximate writing, deliberately, I would say, after hundreds of days since your registration, and the randomness of your presence do not bode well for your intellectual honesty, and in any case prevent us from judging you one way or another.
Get to know yourself better and more, as by doing so you invite me to insult, and only for what was mentioned above, it strangles in my throat.
A hug.
Voto:
… where thousands of hands stolen from agriculture dedicate themselves to delirious nonsense called rappe or trappe, inconclusive paths towards total nothingness. Here, you can feel sweaty armpits, burning feet inside leather boots, distorters, and cold beers. That's enough for me; I have more than enough. Thank you, Roby.
Voto:
Educational and didactic review, which pushes the anonymous crowds towards critical listening, or pure and simple knowledge, of one of the countless branches of rock and roll, notably among the least frequented by the usual listeners of the aforementioned genre, who are always a bit more inclined towards more basic shores, arderocche, evvimetal and similar, or, like the writer, leaning more towards the spurious beaches of nu-metal seasoned with abundant electronic drifts.

This morning, when I had nothing better to do, I tried to dedicate myself to the listening of the aforementioned oddities, which you, Robertino, consider aesthetically unwatchable. Now, they are not pretty, that’s a fact. But we’ve seen worse, oh yes, we’ve seen worse.

Their rocking doesn’t bother me even if merely on an auditory level—like when I'm organizing books or vinyl records, although I would never dare to step into a record store or a website designed for this purpose to shell out twenty hard-earned euros for their products. Especially when they indulge in mixing the tex with the mex, then I switch tracks and move on to the next one.

However, it must be said that these country bumpkins put in sweat and heart, and you can feel it. Above all, sincerity and a desire to play come through, which is not a small thing these days, where...
Voto:
Edit to the review: "Corrections of form and syntax, mind your own business." See the old version Diminuendo In Blue - Crescendo In Blue - Duke Ellington Orchestra - recensione Versione 2