Eneathedevil

Sorry if this is the first prog-rock album in the history of Italian music, eh.

It looks like a nice little jaguar.

These smell a bit of nomadism from the Arabian Peninsula, but you, Jon, are always so convincing...

I can already see the gleeful eyes of the DeUtenti at the sight of their prophet as he prepares to share his viewpoint on yet another controversial topic here on Deb. He is Aeneas and possesses the virtue of the strong and the just and is here to bring the truth about this Albanese film. Well, I found it brilliant and well-crafted back then – and I still do. It makes you laugh and smile with a hint of bitterness, there are moments of undeniable genius (besides the quotes mentioned by @[Trofeo], it’s impossible not to mention the bizarre encounter with his friend Patrizio, who during Antonio's years of absence, embraced "liberalism") and a cast of actors in a state of grace (the brilliant Petrocelli and the ever-loyal Grimalda). There is certainly a dose of faux-naive rhetoric in some passages, but Epifano's mask is, all in all, sincere and belongs to a historical period when Albanese didn't have the spotlight on him.

To conclude, I’ll share a truly nerdy anecdote from the film's release: I was in middle school and, on my initiative, decided with three friends to see the film at the cinema. Back then, instead of getting into Dragon Ball and Fargetta, I was already indulging in these pseudo-intellectual oddities and was looking for a few unfortunate souls to keep me company. That afternoon, however, I arrived five minutes late and, when I confidently entered the cinema looking for the three of them, due to the darkness of the room, I couldn’t orient myself, so I sat in any random row waiting to join the others during the intermission. Well, the first half ends and to my great surprise I don’t find any of the three in the cinema, so I end up watching the film alone, then sadly returning home. The next day, I see the three Bedouins at school and, of course, the first question is: "Where the hell were you?" And they respond: "Well, seeing that you weren’t arriving, we went to the field to play soccer." So, noticing that the cinephile Aeneas, a big bore and vizier of the nerds, had flaked out just like Professor Riccardelli who couldn't find the film of the Czechoslovak flick in Fantozzi, they declared a free-for-all to go play football. And screw Antonio Albanese and that shitty film.

No, come, but really in "Piano bar" did De Gregori want to throw Venditti under the bus? And the "bastard dog" was always him? Are you sure? Damn, what had he done to him: had he stolen Izzo from him? And to think that Venditti later would have indulgent words for the Prince in "Sotto il segno dei pesci" with "Francesco" and "Bomba o non bomba"... go figure these two.
A review a bit too explanatory, but I won't be a jerk giving you 4 stars like those wobbly Uber drivers. And that piece, which I stumbled upon in the album from Venditti's concert at San Siro, is one of my favorites (even though that live version lacked the beautiful instrumental coda, which by the way is present in the soundtrack of "Signore e signori buonanotte").

I can't do it, Martè: generally, I just follow what happens in the newspapers – I haven't seen a show in at least five years – but everything that was announced has taken away my desire to even browse through the various headlines, especially with people like Amadeus, the Ferragnez, Blanco, and many more involved: in short, the worst of the worst with no end in sight. So I can't even stomach the press review and have to pass this time. Bring back Andrea Occhipinti.

May God always glorify the reviews of @[ZiOn] aimed at recovering all the most succulent trash from the history of Italian music. I had to track down the performance because I didn't remember it, but I must admit it conveys an unpayable sense of embarrassment, starting from the inexplicable entrance of the model ready to scrape together a few coins from the production, and continuing with the magnificent performance of our heroine where undoubtedly the lion's share goes to the lyrics of the song, truly of an unmatched absurdity. Everything is beautiful. Thank you.

Never loved her voice.

Ahahahahah, and now? How will I ever know if the previous version didn't deserve more praise? This is putrid as usual, savansadir.

Wow, so many bolds! Yma, one of my muses, as I wrote some time ago on Deb.