Dislocation

Ronno's fame certainly didn't need a partial and incomplete element like this; the best he expressed was where and how we know, certainly not as a guitar hero or as a solo virtuoso, but, this is for sure, as an honest and talented carver of riffs and vigorous but not vulgar chords, simple but not trivial and, above all, always in the service of the song, never a line of excess or uselessness. A good third of Bowie's glam period success the White Duke owed to him, it was known, Bowie himself said so. And that's Gospel. Thanks to the brave @[pier_paolo_farina] for the reminder that you don't always have to be in the front row to prove your worth... Ah, Clapton... Eh.

Confa, I myself, no, I mean, here, I myself, I mean myself, well, I couldn't have said it better.
Thank you.
P.S.: The Bitols should be listened to over and over again in this short period. Again, they haven't invented anything better.

I, au contraire, love electronics, I love Moz when he sings, less so when he talks. Johnny and Bernie too, I adore them, with the original groups and with Electronic. And I adore the chosen few collaborators who have accompanied them over the years. Neil Tennant, Chris Lowe, and Karl Bartos. Just to say.

Uh, what a character...
But.

After the essential triad with Roversi, Dalla found confidence in himself and composed lyrics (he thought he couldn't do it...) and music for that unique gem in terms of inspiration, composition, and production that was "Com'è profondo il mare," which paved the way for the splendid quintet that it itself opened, followed by "Lucio Dalla," "Dalla," the "QDisc" (a stratagem used to include songs not found in "Dalla," leftovers that would have formed the backbone of any other album by any other singer of the moment, leftovers, indeed...) and finally that "1983," more rarefied and mysterious than the others... Then Lucio would slip into a kind of trade, crafting records of a certain value, keeping them in line with the pop and technological trends of the moment (synthesizers galore... and he loved synths...) but making them all a bit cold, searching for a leading track and others that were also valuable but, indeed, a bit cold and programmed... today we would say more pop, right?
In this album, the opening triple play is lethal, stuff that in other places would have produced just as many singles...
Favorite track "Il parco della luna," savasandir.

Tony Effe whooooo?
Let's move on, it's a matter of human charity...
Far too often, aided by mainstream radio and other factors, Uncle Pino is thought of as the author of beautiful yet syrupy sentimental ballads, without considering that, almost uniquely in our surroundings, he is a gentleman who, between '79 and '84, produced a deadly quintet of albums that, with each release, raised the bar for the quality of music, encompassing lyrics, musicality, inspirations, and a mélange of even the most diverse genres, all united by an ever-improving technical prowess, at times impressive... The initial insistence on expressing himself in strict Neapolitan was rewarded by the audience, who, apart from a few critics who bashed him for this, always followed him faithfully, abundantly repaid with highly attended and unforgettable tours.
After 1983, so much professionalism, less effort, and much professionalism, collection time after so much sowing.
The album that @[JpLoyRow] speaks of is a five-star album tout court, without ifs or buts, surpassed, in my opinion, first by "Vai Mo'" and then by that equestrian monument which is "Bella 'mbriana," where everything is condensed, digested, and reissued in circulation with ever new and diverse forms...
The technical peaks reached in this "Nero a metà," though highly noteworthy, were easily surpassed in the two albums that followed, those already mentioned earlier, and by the personalities who participated in them, from the stellar and "classic" band (De Piscopo-Esposito-Zurzolo-Amoruso-Se nese) to the composite Italo-American group of Bella 'mbriana that included various folks, like Wayne Shorter or Alphonso Johnson, just to name a few...
The technical level rose hand in hand with the emotional peak, with sharp turns towards jazz and fusion, already shown in Nero a Metà but balanced there by a lot of Claptonian blues...
Well done JP for unearthing such a masterpiece, it's just a shame that you limited yourself to a somewhat pedantic description but lacking in emotion, personal touch, and empathy...
Just my opinion, okay?
Hugging you.

Ailovmiusic, I will be frank...
Get a life.
Go out.
Meet people.
It's almost Christmas.

He has always seemed to me a sincere and honest pop craftsman (in the least pejorative sense possible...), attentive to details and sufficiently sensitive. Not really all that regular in his head. Promoted.

What sadness, dear brothers, seizes the unwary adventurer of DeB while reading the review of the already valiant @[rafssru], a worthy author of much more insightful and effective critiques on these moribund pages... What numbness of the soul overtakes us as we think of his descriptions of countless works that used to entice the empty DeBaseriano to lift his buttocks from the sofa and head to the nearby discographic pusher to acquire the work that our beloved critic had so effectively described, pushing us to buy it sight unseen...
Those days are no more, my dearest brothers, and an unbearable gray and dreary aura envelops the now weary minds of our beloved reviewer who, perhaps clouded by the onset of a degenerative neurological disease, perhaps simply no longer able to scrape the bottom of a discography that, alas for him and woe for us, reduces valuable products year after year to a flickering light. For these reasons, our little brother retrieves from the depths of said, fetid barrel a work that we shall call thus for the sake of brevity, a product as useless as it is harmful that already at the time of its release caused no small troubles to the unwary Genoese shopkeepers who dared to display it in their windows, colored as it was with those shameful chromatic elements, discordant with every ideal of beauty, capable of causing, with merely its appearance, neuromotor and sensory-ophthalmic pathologies to the few, unsuspecting adventurers who dared to observe it.
Soon the unfortunate product was relegated to the darkest corner of the store and ultimately kept in the only space where it was worthy to show itself, the bathroom, preferably hung inside the toilet designated for solid-liquid excretion.
It must also be said that the pair of brothers Aldo and Vittorio De Scalzi had enjoyed utmost esteem until then, composed as they were of two true musical talents, already members, respectively, of the glorious Picchio dalPozzo (top-class prog/Canterbury) and Pivio-De Scalzi (multi-award-winning soundtracks), with one of them even playing in New Trolls, there’s no need to say more...
The two ruined their prestigious careers with this single product of the lowest, to put it mildly, quality, disgusting both in its artwork and in its musical content (???)
Lastly, we would like to idealistically embrace the ladies who, during their gestation period, passed in front of those windows where the dreadful product was displayed, the mere sight of which, as has been scientifically proven, caused dozens of spontaneous miscarriages.
I shall say no more.
However, I wait for the noble @[rafssru], possibly supported by a valid medical team and a cocktail of neuroleptics, vitamins, and blue pills, to return boldly as we have known him in the glory of yesteryear and to propose musical products that are at least worthy of such a name, renewing in us the trust that he is always by our side, vigilant and focused.

P.S. Whether we win or lose, forza Genoa and Doria merda.

I have the book, but I’m increasingly tempted to podcast it instead. Remember, books... those made of paper... with the printed words on...