Dislocation

It was the moment when Berté would give the go-ahead, and the singer-songwriters lined up to propose their songs to her. She never really revolutionized them; Fossati and Ruggeri always say she was "philological," preferring not to make changes to the original versions presented. In this respect, she was very similar, mutatis mutandis, to the approach to singer-songwriter songs that Vanoni had; for both of them, it was enough to add their voice to the lyrics, and the work was complete... And here we are undoubtedly within the realm of her best productions, in the triad "Traslocando/Jazz/Savoir Faire," which placed her a step above the other Italian interpreters.

Like any self-respecting Greatest Hits album, or even one that doesn’t respect itself, this one also leaves out a trail of beautiful songs that my punctual fellow collaborators have taken the time to identify and which are not included here. The reality is obviously simpler than any debate could suggest and it all lies in the description that our Abraham provides in the opening lines, when he tells us that for him the TFF represent the perfect pop, something we’ve already heard being said about Prefab Sprout, Suede and so on...

In the days of their successes, the TFF always seemed on the verge of exploding as the band of the moment, a boom that never came, but, after all, the moment also belonged to Duran Duran and Spandau, so I think it’s better that our two little Englishmen, raised on bread and Bitols (and you can hear it) and crackers and Motown (here it’s less apparent, but still...) never reached a true mass consecration complete with screaming girls and fans under their windows.

It wasn’t their fate to reach such heights; what we retrospectively describe as pop back then was considered a good deal above the aggressive, technological Duran innovation or the glossy yet inconclusive Spandau sound. The two buddies were complementary, musically and in character, they completed each other and had a couple of support bands made up of serious musicians equipped to accurately produce and faithfully reproduce the themes dear to the core duo, who articulated languid non-banal verses along with harmonies that at first were permeated by late minor key new wave and later decisively leaning towards a noble, Beatles-esque pop where technical or spectacular exaggerations were never witnessed, but everything served to create a perfect product in itself, never frigid and hard to attack by detractors of every kind.

Moreover, they had a compositional style characterized by few and sparse chords, almost always on guitar, beautiful bass lines played with a pick, very metallic, not too reliant on the drummer’s work, and also, it was the era of tight and sparkling keyboards. The eighties left us much worse than the TFF, savasandir. Thank you, Abraham!

Damn it, I sent it without completing, sorry, Asterisk.
I was saying that I bought it on trust like most of the Warp stuff back then, but I mentally categorized them as legitimate children or whatever of the four Masters of Düsseldorf, even if they were copied and plundered too.
I didn't see, nor do I see now, great Detroit liaisons, just nice connections with the sound and aesthetics of Kraftwerk, although, I mean, the Kraftwerk-esque cover only had the intention, given their poses which weren't that robotic after all. But I liked it in general. Then, back in the day, or shortly after, it was fun to witness releases like Little Computer People or other mischievous little ones from the four.
Five to your writing and two to the work... It's nice and useful to read you.

I had forgotten it, buried in some little-used column of CDs. I appreciated this disk back then, but, looking back,

Thank you, asterisk, great unearthing from oblivion. It's nice to remember Ryuichi all set towards the hard and pure electronics of that time, nothing like YMO... I too, like @[IltuoDeNome], dropped Saka after Sweet Revenge and then the piano turning point…
Five/five, savasandir.

So, the variously blonde, curly-haired singer-songwriter who also produced two beautiful songs, damned, so papist that he dedicated, to the supreme Pole, a specific lament, who knows, perhaps stirring the envy of the German Pastor who succeeded him, who knows, a cutter of more than twenty albums, a cutter also of millions of scrotal bags, both hairy and not, a monochromatic and monographic describer of cardiac-romantic landscapes, already a thrower of danielmiette, gone down in history for the amorous little trottolino dudùdadadà.....
He too enjoyed the disenchanted notes of the noble @[Lao Tze] and the jests of DeB everything, as well as the defenses beyond all logic and modesty of our new, welcome bearded and beret-wearing mate.
That's all.

Unlike what happens to me when I examine your writings, I do not approve a single word nor the intention that led you to submit such a biological remnant in a state of extreme decay, however, like that fellow, I would give my life to allow you to perform such acts here on DeB.
Or even the hips.
Yes, perhaps better the hips.

No, seriously, if you’re twelve/thirteen years old, have a decent grasp of written Italian, and have listened to the Bitols’ production in Mp3 in half an hour, without even glancing at a cover, I don’t know, an insert with lyrics, well then I understand and move on. The review, to be clear, is oppressively poor, and you’ve realized that yourself, surely.
If, on the other hand, you’re a thirty-something bored by the long quarantine and just wanted to provoke a little for the sake of provoking, well, even in that case your review, if it’s supposed to be one, is vague and not worth occupying any more pixels.
All of this, make it clear, without any animosity whatsoever, whoever you are.

And anyway, we’ll give back Chioggia to you.

I believe that, as already succinctly pointed out by the excellent @[macmaranza], Gibson, in his fervor as a North American Catholic fundamentalist, intentionally pushed the splatter, showing everyone that reading the gospels was pointless without acknowledging that the Romans gave his god a serious beating, making it clear how much his god made man suffered for us while we were just having fun at the cinema. Of course, if one is so keen on being Catholic, one of those Catholics from the holy Roman church, saddled and blinkered, well, watching something like this is not too far off from the hard and pure Revelation. Alright, I've said it.