Eneathedevil

Are we back to square one? Writing is definitely more interesting than the subject. You can't fool me, Hope: I know I'm biased, but I also know that you always, with your skillful and magical mastery, manage to sugarcoat the pill more than necessary. But you know very well that I'm always a fan of your centuries, so five gallons of tip it is.

What is this nonsense?

In the end, I’ll make it there. One fine day, overcoming the laziness that grips my loins, during one of my recurring trips to Sicily, I’ll take the car and drive to Gibellina to see the Cretto. A bit disheveled, perhaps a little rattled by the twists of the highway that passes through Altofonte to reach the Belice, even sweaty, but eventually I’ll get there one day.

Let’s be honest: this debut by @[Annette] was anticipated more than Apollo 11, after a year filled with obvious conjectures, with the looming specter of the "lazy reviewer" syndrome that affects verbose debasers in commenting and stingy in reviewing. Luckily, the spell has been broken, and the wait has been justly rewarded with an entrance akin to a Turandot, waiting an entire act before revealing herself: an intense narration that is actually a retrospective able to talk about an intriguing subtext while staying perfectly focused on the artist and the work.

There is, in this intriguing journey that continually lingers in creating proximities and distances between the reviewer and the work, that typical hesitation of someone tiptoeing onto the stage, that embarrassment that may perhaps be the indirect cause of that title, "My Mama Never Taught..." which has been misinterpreted on more than one occasion, but it’s the imperfection that fits a handmade lace that doesn’t require the monotonous precision of machine work.

Who better than the two Annettes? Well, here we are talking about a young lady who, at the dawn of the electronic revolution, carried the first synthesizers with her and even played them in her live performances, so just imagine how one cannot love her. It would be enough if the other Annette boasted a talent of the same caliber and she could be equally adored, but nowadays everyone is good at playing synthesizers, so we’ll have to dive into another talent. Who knows what that might be.

The attack is not exactly gender-free, but the reviewer is an old-time blowhard, and we forgive him this flaw in form. And perhaps towards the end, the use of the subjunctive in governing would have been more accurate than that "impression is that," but even here we’re in the mood for indulgences. Then certainly, one could object to that little bit of presumption that underlies the explicit declaration of belonging to the world of "lovers of good music," but a touch of salty arrogance doesn't hurt. Very well.

He is, for better or for worse, always the same Cronenberg.

I mean, new in the sense that it just came out? Damn, the problem is that one lifetime is not enough to listen to all of Roach's work. I've managed to listen to maybe 5-6 albums at most, and I barely remember a dozen tracks. If we had to quantify it in bytes of music, we're well over a Terabyte. One lifetime is not enough.

You have caught the honor.

Guys, DeBaser is an awesome site. People debate, totally different opinions clash over albums that range from being total flops to absolute masterpieces in the blink of a comment, comparisons are made with illustrious epigones of this and that genre, but despite what those who keep saying that #debaserstamorendo think, we are incredibly fortunate today, on this site, to benefit from the perspective of a strongly discerning critic, a deus ex machina who understands the virtue of the righteous and can resolve the thorniest discussions on musical topics, a user with a straight back and a humble tongue, and that user is me.

That said, I come to the point: epoch-making album and who cares if it has aged poorly. A hug to everyone.

And that's precisely why it's called "Soul."