Pietro Minchiadura

The classic shapes the minds. Jim, you studied accounting.

Don't be a fool, Morbison. My name declines normally according to the Latin verb: Minchiadura, -ae, -ae, -am, -a, -a.

Mappeffavò, at this hour that gay is shaking his potato! I say: Gay Morrison.

...Jim Cortison?

Hail, great master of ceremonies MaledettaPrimavera, I am here to tell you that yesterday I listened to this wicked record, and I finally understood what divine musical clangor suits me. What violence, what perdition. Uncle Varg almost wants to confuse my thoughts when that cosmic refrain of Den onde kysten starts, but as soon as those three little minutes are over, the malevolent force of destruction takes hold of me amidst the sputtering screams and wild cries of Key To The Gate: I feel like a bard wandering through the desolate countryside of Bergman's films on a mottled steed, ready with his rusty scythe to reap braided virgins and shepherdesses! The destructive force continues throughout the rest of the album; I've already managed to make a hundred sacrificial victims when Han Som Reiste momentarily reconnects me to Odin, but it’s just a pause before the total ruin... I put on Snu Mikrokosmos Tegn and UAAAAAAAHHHH... UAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! The pastoral screams of uncle call me back to the limbo of the curse...!!! UAAAAHHHH UAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Scythes and halberds for the Scandinavian forests! Death and destruction!!!! What a wonderful record, the gates of knowledge have finally opened for me. I am coming.

Aside from the usual despicable and banal bullshit and a not-so-distant defeat at the hands of certain little eagles, what can I say? The best thing you said was when you quoted, "Clearly you can't understand what I meant by 'slave of harmonies and melodies' (I didn't expect that), I still haven't quite understood it myself!": the usual charming use of phrases ad minchiam for the sake of wanking with words. But I sense you being a bit cheeky, as if you had to shield yourself from some presumed bitterness of mine. Don't worry, I tivibì, you know that. You know how it is: one reads these bullshit elevated to objective truths and is left a bit stunned. It’s one thing to say that Mozart isn't loved, and another to validate such tastes based on improbable hierarchies. May I offer you a few pointers? No hard feelings, as they say :) Regarding the review, with my 5 I said it all: I often think that the best expressions of esteem come solely from scores without any commentary, which means there's nothing to object or observe. And I repeat: Hal is too kind; he knows that with you it would be a forfeit victory of 3-0. Kisses... and who knows, my little bird, maybe in the end, we both end up in UEFA... ;)

Yes, the definition is poorly used. Indeed, it's better to talk about disco music. Well, it seems reasonable to include techno and house in the same way they unfortunately are included in the more tacky versions in nightclubs.

Uhuh, I laughed, little lice. Do you remember the times of Dalla? 1983, in my opinion, is still a great album. There's that wonderful olophony that is a whole program. And stop commenting on yourself with your pseudo-cult nicknames! :D

Yes, and in all this the seven of hearts also sucks. Better to stuff it in the sheep's gut like the ancient Greeks did.

But no, but no, everything's wrong. I was being simplistic; I talked about dance music in general as if it were just disco music. Then it’s obvious, alas, that when you go to clubs, they only play dance for those 20-30 minutes as a kind of token gesture, like Village People and Bigìs, and that in the end you’re not really listening to dance but techno and house. Generally, we’re talking about: music for the club environment. I was dismissive and not very accurate, ok, but I could never have imagined that you "preferred" techno to dance. I thought that by condemning dance, you were also condemning techno and other club sub-genres, but instead, you say that calling "dance" Beaucoup is an offense, and it’s better to call it "techno" (and rightly so, it’s obvious it’s techno, but techno is danceable), thus giving an implicit judgment that techno is acceptable while dance is trash. I say: a hundred thousand times better the dance of the '70s, '80s, '90s than this house junk from the club idiots you mention. Better Discovery than Homework. But at this point, it becomes a matter of taste. However, for you to act all refined, snubbing dance in favor of techno, seems like a stretch to me. We're always back to the same thing: danceable stuff for party animals.