Fiammy

Yes, but Son and Daughter is sung by Freddie!

I don't understand... if you don't give a 5 to this, who will you give it to? I think it's one of the best albums ever released, well-structured and engaging from start to finish.

Mediocre English quartet? It seems to me that you are talking nonsense.

The album is outstanding, there’s nothing else to say. Beautiful from start to finish. The review is personal and heartfelt, but somewhat too pompous.

The shift workers you mentioned are real whores.

The review says nothing. I randomly listened to this crap when I was little... I must have been 10 years old. Anyway, from what I remember and what occasionally comes on the radio, it's crap cubed, hyper-produced and pretentious, like all the garbage that cagherotti feeds us. Nothing sold in thousands of copies. Just because this hillbilly had curly hair and looked like a "decent" person, in the worst sense that this attribute can have.

To me, it seems that Cagherotti is terrible. Really terrible. In fact, he has always been terrible. A peasant, pompous, presumptuous. A cleaned-up suburban guy wearing Armani. I don’t know if he votes right or left, but it’s clear that his inconsistent music (better the farts of Ciprì and Maresco) and his sexist doormat lyrics resonate with today’s television stupidity and the subculture of reality show contestants. Which is an expression of today’s advertising neocapitalism. So he’s right-wing, that’s it. Anyway, his songs are truly, really terrible. I don’t know how anyone can listen to him. The only sincere thing in this pain in the ass is the ignorance, straightforward, without mincing words, impossible to hide. Punisher, the review is as nice as usual, but you gave him too much in the rating!

I also appreciated the 883... I liked the first two albums. They remind me of the bittersweet adolescence, the transition from middle school to high school. In my opinion, this album, along with the next one, is a cult of the early '90s. Pezzali and Repetto were two laid-back twenty-five-year-olds (in a good way), caught between school memories, drinks at the bar, getting rejected at the club, nagging parents, clichés, girls who tear themselves apart, and polished models with long legs. Unlike the rest of Italian pop music, which leaves me completely indifferent (besides artistically disgusted), the first two albums of the 883 have, for me, a "figurative power" of what I imagine to be the greyness of Sunday afternoons in Pavia for kids with leather jackets and a small radio to listen to Sunday matches. In short, this music, as trivial as it may be, manages to show me places I've never seen and introduces me to people far away from me. That must mean something. When I rate it, I mainly consider this aspect. Nice review.

The lowest point in Freddie Mercury's Queen career. The lowest after that was the collaboration with the Five. In any case, I believe that Hot Space has some good ideas, such as Cool Cat and Back Chat. However, the only song that saves the album is Under Pressure. The album was born out of Freddie's push, much to the discontent of Brian and Roger, which is very evident in the record. Put Out the Fire does not redeem the slow and uncertain atmosphere of the album. Nevertheless, the pre-Mr. Bad Guy Freddie wanted to give it a try. The Queen had to try. After all, it is much better than 95% of the music that is heard today. I can't give the Queen less than a 3... otherwise, what would I give to others? A 5 goes to their courage to experiment with this album, which caused them to lose a large chunk of their fans.

Punisher, I found your review really strong. You are absolutely right about everything... for me, I just want to add one thing. I'm not surprised by the crap that MenoPausini produces, nor by the fact that there are people who consider her a good artist. The musical ignorance of Italians and South Americans (where Pausini is very popular) is unfortunately immeasurable. In any case, I always take pleasure in the starched collars of the boyfriends who take the frigid, anorgasmic, and obviously puritanical woman (tendentially against 90% of sexual practices and in the most severe cases still a virgin) to see the legendary fat bottomed Pausini timidly moving on stage with cellulite squeezed into two sizes smaller pants. These guys are essential for my excitement... may a wave of rock bury them!