odradek

Hi, Macaco. I get a headache just thinking about embarking on a quest for meaning in such a "musical mythology," but I'm fascinated by the idea of a musician becoming an archaeologist of themselves. I used to listen to Magma when I had flowing hair (or what I now call "the useless adornment of a mane") with the help of smoky herb shops. One question: what is "destemita"? I've never come across this term, and I can't find it in any dictionary...

It's quite strange: with Fusillo we have chatted, I believe more than once, about Buster, the book "Memorie a rotta ecc", about "Film" and about Buster & Samuel Beckett, and I hadn't read this? Sorry, Fusillo, I'm remedying this with considerable delay. Hope you're doing well.

You've only read the iconography halfway, on the "fashion" side: the white jacket and red scarf frame the green t-shirt, showing that the Italian loves his flag. And you were writing about the photo, that is, about an image. You should have looked at it. Failed.

Instead, the interview with Bignardi said a lot about Edda, especially given her reticence. The part involving De Carlo, a sort of unintentional absurd theater, saw two universes collide so dramatically that you thought the studio could explode. But no, of course, and Edda emerged quite well from it. I also found “Stavolta come mi ammazzerai?” interesting and, in some ways, surprising, which I listened to thanks to a tip from a DeUtente, Mr. Dipsomane (whom I thank here as well). I didn’t even remember it was the one from R.T., who didn’t excite me much even at their beginnings. But it seemed sufficient to me; I don’t think I will delve further into the matter. I have no curiosity regarding the potential commercialization of Edda, and I found listening to the single quite painful. But I wish Edda all the best. She’s a type of person I often encounter, in various versions, and simply, today, I can’t handle it. I hope she brings home some money and opportunities to create more and to be well. Amen.

@[CosmicJocker] I don't believe this

But the effeminate zazzaruto is worthy of an audience of debauched individuals, certainly not of non-degenerate Europeans. To the scrap heap!

Ah, here it is. Well, it was about time to clarify a few things. Thank you.

Never knew about a noir by Kurosawa. From the way you talk about it, it seems influenced by French cinema, but maybe that's just my shallow, unfounded deductions. You piqued my curiosity. Then Algol says you're good, and I went to check out your reviews and found you wrote about Tzameti, calling it a little gem, but ended it with a 3.5. Oh no, that film is truly a "small but shining gem," the miracle of a debuting director, built wonderfully, shot even better, strong and flawless, full of references that are all functional to the film and never pretentious. I still can't believe how he managed to mess it up by directing the American version, a real disaster. Bye.

Eh, I was writing something about Christina's eyes but Isideha made the final post. My wife tells me that as a girl she was "divided" between him and Dinatello, the one where I stop here where you live. And I don't think it was because of his singing skills. As for me, I bought the vinyl records, up to Hibernation. I listened to it but I don't remember much. I was also surprised with that one about the dog; it had been a while since I had heard from them, I thought they were extinct. Funny that I had to read your page to find out what I thought about Maurizio. Bye.

Forcing the reader to investigate the identities of Benedetta Valentini and Chicco Lazzaretti represents a rather insidious form of sadism (and casts an unsettling light on your past), only barely balanced by the perhaps unintentional masochism of associating yourself with Costantino. The fact that the linked track at the bottom of the page resembles more an interlude from an Aktuala album than Neu! raises some doubts that the full album's opening on YouTube quickly dispels. By mentioning Japan and the music of its many young frontrunners, aside from a fond memory of the sweet Susumu, I would have found room for a true gem like Katsuhiko Maeda and his Girl from the End of the World (by the way, what happened to her?) - The limping rabbit that pees behind my desk seems to enjoy the Minami album, looking at the PC speakers with a curious expression. - Subalpine regards.