Eneathedevil

As usual, the most interesting theme is the extraordinary fertility of the languorous American perfumer, who in just 2021 effectively delivered to the audience 2 whole hours of unreleased music between Chemtrails and this latest work. This blatant indifference towards market logic excites me to no end and automatically leads me to give half a point more to any work by the plastic Lizzy. Returning to the assessment of our subject's actual merits, the album doesn’t deviate much from Lana’s recent works: a 50% that thoroughly flattens my gonads with memorable piano ballads and true blue Del Rey gasps, and a 50% that offers peculiar solutions that stray from the usual lamenting script ("Thunder" which absolutely stuns me, the soul trip-hop of "Dealer", "Living Legend" where she imitates a guitar loop with her voice). Once all is said and done, it’s an album I would gladly listen to for a good half hour, and with the scarcity of proposals from the past five years, it is undoubtedly well above the average runtime I grant to contemporary releases.

I'll put it on for five o'clock tea!

Hey, I listened to it and it's not that bad. As with all their albums, there are tracks with happy rhythmic solutions ("Victim" above all, "Wasted") and others that drag on exhaustingly for too many minutes ("Living Proof," "Rings around"). Overall, I’d say three stars are fair.

No, Finardi has always remained in the waiting room of my pavilions, waiting for better times, so much so that of this celebrated album I know – graziallaminchia – only the two opening tracks. The mouth-watering review has certainly stirred the waters, so I will listen to it right away. Nice one for Mark.

But yes, compared to other evanescent reviews of @[zotter], this one, in my opinion, does its job by discussing the album and the filtered sensory experience. But what are these asterisks and these tildes scattered here and there as if there were no tomorrow? You know it annoys me. One star less and "this will remain as a stain on his professional career" (quote).

Hope is always so convincing with her streams of unconsciousness that she could even achieve the impossible, that is, to keep the Gibbons off my back, where she settled in the early '90s with her slurred and fungal voice.

Well, the confession about the Amon Düül's gigs quite perks me up, since I've always maintained that certain lengthy jams from their early albums were like clumsy digs at the spermatic ducts, but I'm pretty sure they weren't the only ones looking for similar tricks in the early '70s (maybe not the Faust, since even when they were signed by Virgin, they kept making tracks pretty much like they did before: not surprisingly, after selling just 4 copies of "Faust IV," they went back to making records with German labels). As for TD, well, what can I say: those little sluggards figured out how the market worked back in the first half of the '70s and started focusing on the melodic aspect of sequencers. But the point is: does your art suffer if you become faithful to the lira? Not always. If we had to strictly adhere to that premise, then we'd have to take people like Bowie and flush their entire discography down the toilet, just like Scaruffi does. Battiato in '79 realized he would continue to sell about ten copies per album and shifted towards pop for the masses, but we can't say that at that point his output was just a lava flow of steaming crap. So the theme of “misstep towards commercialization” makes sense to me only up to a point.

@[Cervovolante], you could’ve said a bit more, then we’d have arrived at a global summary and there would be no need to buy the book anymore. Now, though, there remains a margin of curiosity. Anyway, Julianino always in our hearts.

The great return of Gullary with a very tasty proposal to accompany it: of course, after reading Albini, Suicide, Screamers, and Jesus & Mary Chain, that Ramones there worries me quite a bit, but let’s hope that in the overall sound of the album it gets a smaller percentage than that of Raggi in the last municipal elections. Kisses.

Well, I wanted to tell you that you've fallen into the usual transcription error of "length" (wow, everyone gets it wrong) and because of that I feel some unwarranted bitterness. Other than that, I have to say that the title is really cool, so just for that I'll give it a listen. Augh.

Here we are. Yes, cuccìa deserves all of this because it is a tradition that has roots much deeper than a cassata or a cannolo, given the strict local institution that dictates that in certain cities of Sicily, Palermo foremost, the consumption of cuccìa - and concurrently the non-consumption of pasta, replaced by arancine in the feminine - on the day of December 13 is almost mandatory and has a more ephemeral life than any other sweet, whether Christmas or Easter, since the day after there is no trace of it in any pastry shop or bakery on the island. Then there’s the sweet version, the most famous, in which the cooked wheat is drowned in mixes of ricotta or chocolate cream, which is pure manna from heaven, although there is only a faint memory of the essence of the primary ingredient.
A truly interesting excursus, but you’re not going to make me consider Pietraperzia as a municipality of Nisseno, are you? I know you spoke of proximity, but let’s put the church back in the center of the village, which is nothing other than the province of Enna. To hell with it!