Eneathedevil

Essential album and among the best of the "early" Tangerine, with the only flaw of having a title track that inevitably overshadows the rest of the songs. @[Cervovolante]: what's that duplicated paragraph at the end of the review?

Tolerated for transitivity, being an integral and intriguing part of the most famous album in the history of rock. It’s not voices like hers that attract me. Great debut, @[Roccoleone]!

Aster, I don’t know why, but I had a faint feeling that you would send a review on Fahey, as if there had been some subtle anticipatory signal among your listens, but I think I was better at picking it up than you were at making it obvious. Kisses.

"There is no band! There is no band. There is no orchestra! This is all a tape-recording."

Well, nothing from the Popol Vuh of the entire '70s decade is thrown away. In short, Deer, there's nothing to say about the record and the film (although I confess I've only seen Mornau's Nosferatu and not Herzog's, so even more so I have nothing to say), but here you are criticized for not mentioning Aguirre, as if it were a fault. Indeed, Aguirre, in terms of the soundtrack, is my favorite. Five sesterces to you, anyway, for having filled the gap in the De(data)baser.

Yes, I need to catch up too: keeping up with the discography of Coil, between official albums, bootlegs, and rarities, has always been a challenge. Thanks for the tip, Cervo.

The contaminations between classical and cosmic music, like those in "Cellistica," literally drive me crazy.

Torn between a feeling of deference and personal taste: the former leads me to lean towards an enthusiastic judgment echoing what @[ZiOn] has said (it's impossible to give less than 5 stars), while the latter corresponds to a "gut feeling" for which the albums I would gladly listen to again from TD are primarily Phaedra, Ricochet, Stratosphear, all in my home collection in vinyl or CD. Yes, I also have the LP of Alpha Centauri, but I confess: I have it because it’s part of a reissue that also includes Atem, which is the real reason I bought the record. I will slightly tilt the scale towards de gustibus, but as we know, here we have knocked on the doors of the Universe, so it will always remain the masterpiece it has always been.

You all have surely seen that little gem "La scuola" by Luchetti, which in '95, through a theory of priceless caricatures, provided a witty snapshot of the Italian school at the turn of the millennium. In the general chaos of a high school class full of lost kids, there was a boy from another time, Astariti, who played the part of the perfect nerd, always ready to volunteer for questioning, with his hand perpetually raised in response to any question posed by the teacher of the moment. Well, @[Almotasim] reminds me of Astariti, always at the forefront with his reviews written in eloquent language and cultivated expression, rich in clever details and frequent witticisms. Unpopular among his peers, he, on the other hand, earns the favor of the teachers who bestow accolades and high grades upon him at the end-of-year evaluations. The only dissenting voice among the faculty is Professor Vivaldi, who criticizes him for his tendency to memorize lessons and for his way of dressing and behaving without a single flaw, a perfect example of how "the Italian school only works for those who don't need it." In reality, Almo certainly has a more brilliant prose style than Astariti and in summer walks around in an Etro polo and Armani espadrilles, but the role of the top student, for all he has written on this site in the past, fits him by force of circumstance. However, I feel just like Vivaldi at this moment and I say that this collection, not certainly for its length but for the meandering of the prose without a real center of gravity, is an honest writing, but nothing more than the standards to which it has managed to accustom us. There might be a moment of great genius in that play on words between "albume" and "uova," but the doubt that that albume is the result of a typographical error is strong (if he wants, Astariti himself will take care of untangling the Gordian knot). But like Vivaldi, I will be generous, and in the end, I will raise my score from 6 to 7.

Ah, I almost forgot, the Strokes. For divine mercy.

Fortunately, it’s one of those cases where the aesthetic qualities of the (grisly) cover do not match the musical content. "Birdman" takes the spotlight.