Lostinspace

An inversely proportional relationship between grades received and the number of swear words you meant to say? Let me think... uh... umm... Not really. I reiterate, in those dozens of reviews in double (triple?) roles, there are some (too many?) clearly written just to pad the volume.

Immortal record, probably the most beautiful of 1993. A brilliant debut for a band that has been on an unstoppable downward spiral since their second album. The group has gradually fragmented along with their talent. Until a year ago, I was still waiting impatiently for the album of possible redemption after the bland Hard Candy, but... I got tired of it. Success had already taken its toll on Adam's fragile psyche back in 1994... Now he looks pretty rough. Without Ben Mize and Matt Malley, it will never be the same again. Too little desire to create and too many tours in America. They know they are washed up. What a shame. The choice of the name Maria, however, has no biblical reference. She is a sort of "screen" woman (forgive me, Dante, for the blasphemous comparison) for Adam. "There is a piece of Maria in every song that I sing," he sings in Mrs Potter's Lullaby. Maria, the one who dances flamenco in Mr. Jones. Ah... those were the days...

Niccolò's maturity album is the culmination of a ten-year career that has taken him from controversial (and questionable) Sanremo beginnings to a repertoire that is continuously evolving both artistically and in terms of content. A trajectory similar to that of Samuele Bersani, who transitioned from "ciao ciao belle tettine" to the non-voting scrutineer. Live, Niccolò is truly a surprise: this is thanks to his unexpected and unsuspected (I confess) ability to command the stage and the members of his band. One thing, however, deeply disappointed me: his attempt to break into other markets with a Spanish album... What a shame. The review is discreet but somewhat superficial. The track-by-track commentary (which makes me anxious) is, instead, completely pointless.

The clear feeling is that some of your reviews only serve to add to the count. This is one of those. I wouldn’t even dream of watching it. I try to spend my time better.

Here you go.

Can I become human case number 37 (second official request) for... let's say... earned merits? Thank you. May the swelling always be with you. Amen.

Poop. But poop poop!

I have no words. Just fucking ratings. For a fucking review. Hands off my childhood.

Overrated film. Good for rebellious teenagers, nothing more. I read about "top" and "exceptional" just thrown around for a mediocre job.

Here you go.