antimo_d

sylvian, well (setting aside unfruitful other arguments, not to mention the scoop of which the hell...), I proposed it (copy-pasted, okay) in relation to the debate on Bruss that started on the previous review ('born to run'): there it was hypothesized a Bruss buzzurrone unable to do anything but fart with his mouth for the benefit of 'parents in blue jeans' and the like; I wanted to give Bruss the chance to defend himself not through my perhaps inappropriate words, but by making space for his own, choosing some of the most beautiful ones I remembered; had I indulged in extravagant praise or complex theories, I would probably have taken away the dryness that characterizes 'nebraska'; my non-review is an invitation to reading-listening (together with the samples), rather than describing something beautiful I felt it better to indicate it... for the translation: well, just ask... I put it in the comments, because one does not live by reviews alone. amen

Well, it’s actually a bit of a downer the text, which still rhymes with beautiful...

Ah, I limited myself to a quote: 1) because, having to choose, this passage (this text especially) is something I am particularly attached to 2) because once, while drunk, I tried to tell the story of this song to a friend of mine; he liked it, but I had the clear feeling that I had 'ruined' it, that I hadn't been able to tell it well...

I also included samples to show that the songs don’t really sound much like Dylan's ;). As for the choice to list this wonderful record also under the genre 'lagna-rock' ('folk' is a separate matter...), it’s an ironic joke, the term 'lagna-rock' is a brilliant invention of bullshit, I wanted to 'inaugurate' the genre with what I consider a poignant masterpiece (to be 'read', with the music highlighting with its silences, all the stories told by Bruss...)

I dreamed I was a child last night / I was where the pines grow wild and tall / I was trying to find my way home through the woods / before darkness fell / I could hear the wind rustling through the trees / and spectral voices rising from the fields / I ran with my heart in my throat down the rocky path / with the devil nipping at my ankles / I made my way through the trees, and there in the night / my father's house emerged steady and bright / branches and brambles tore at my clothes and scratched my arms / but I ran until I fell, trembling in his arms / I woke up and imagined that the harsh things that had kept us apart / would no longer keep our hearts apart, sir / I got dressed and ran towards that house / from outside on the street I could see its windows brightly lit / I climbed the steps and paused under the porch / a woman I didn’t know came to speak to me through the chain on the door / I told her my story, and who I had come for / she said "I'm sorry, son, but no one by that name lives here anymore" / my father's house stands there steady and bright / it's there like a beacon calling me in the night / calling and calling, so cold and alone / illuminating this dark road on which lie our unatoned sins

mmm... I’ve heard very good things about it, but it was a promotional piece on 'blow-up'... now there’s the authoritative opinion of Mr. Josi. It seems they should be listened to, but this way I’m overdosing on Italians! (Franklin Delano, Bachi da Pietra, Larsen Lombriki, I don't want Clara, Offlaga...)

hal, this is truly a great record, dry and strong like a good whiskey, not sweet but with a taste that slowly rises in your mouth...

Cuin is increasingly dominating ;D, watch out Bruss!

Exactly, Big D, that's why I wrote 'more or less objective' ;) ...

Oh yeah Rocky, you reminded me why I never listen to Mudhoney, Mark Arm's voice is truly unbearable!