pier_paolo_farina

When you drink a lot, you vomit. When you drink really heavily, you pass out. If you happen to pass out while you’re vomiting, and you’re alone, and you stay lying on your back or sitting with your head thrown back, the vomit comes up into your mouth and then goes into your lungs, and you who are unconscious die asphyxiated. It happened to Bonham, to Hendrix, and to Bon Scott.

René, the "dlin dlon" speech was about deepening the interaction between guitar and amplifier. There had already been great figures in the keyboard performance (Django Reinhardt...). Thank you all for the appreciation.

The artistic loss in the transition from Scott to Johnson is that the former sang about what he was, a charming, crazy drunkard, while the latter is a good man who, when he screams "come here and suck it all," recites a cliché that the band became famous for and one they were unwilling to let go of. However, the magic of AC/DC doesn't lie in the vocals, but in their unique talent for creating rhythmic interlocks where even the pauses of silence between one guitar riff and the next, between one bass drum hit and the next, "sound." It's the sublime art of the riff, of the repeated and intriguing musical phrase, and for this reason, the genius of the gang is Mr. Angus Young.

Mina's choices deserve to be respected on a human level but condemned artistically. She, a tremendously talented performer, after a remarkable start to her career, has chosen to retreat to her home, get as plump as a porchetta, rely on her son who may be skilled and capable but is not Trevor Horn, sing everything that can be sung without a project, a choice, a direction, like some kind of living jukebox recycling all the old and new pop. For me, she has lost all charm and I actually find it irritating to see her throwing herself away on mediocre things when she could have given so much more—fewer duets, fewer covers, fewer varieties of styles but more personality, not this sort of living jukebox. I’m still stuck on the beautiful girl from the seventies, I’m sorry.

Santana's situation is a painful mystery. He is a great man, with clear ideas about how the world works, about what is important to be and to do; I’ve read some of his statements about his country, the Pope, and music that could serve as a true manual of intelligence and wisdom. However, for the past fifteen years, he has subjected us to unbearable chatter with that annoying little guitar of his, meandering around the current groove, the current singer, the current composition. It’s very convenient to have a series of songs assembled by a producer and then sprinkle in two hundred thousand guitar flourishes to convince people that the song is his and not that of the composer or the singer. Furthermore, his touch is certainly personal and recognizable, but the inventiveness and technique are quite ordinary, and those who consider him a great guitarist are mistaken. I share the essence of the review, even though I find his ironic approach not particularly incisive or creative.

Immediately

"Hotel California" is just the tip of the iceberg for the Eagles, whose success is tied to a long series of songs. Clinging to the resemblance to "We Used To Know" as a reason to discredit Joe Walsh and argue that all the credit for the Eagles belongs to Jethro is quite a lofty leap. Let me explain the issue of the packed Les Paul, apologizing for the overly technical jargon (guitarist-wise). The Les Paul is the electric guitar used by Walsh, and the "packing" (sound-wise) is that physical phenomenon created when the "long" and distorted sound, further prolonged by the echo effect and/or simply by the echo of the environment, coming out of the amplifier's cones is picked up by the guitar's pickups (which are just a few steps away, right?) and then figuratively goes back in circulation, meaning it's amplified again, comes out of the cones, etc., etc... the result is an incredibly long sound, very dense, and quite difficult to control because it tends to turn into an unbearable squeal.

The harmonic progression of "Hotel California" is by Don Felder, the vocals by Don Henley, Walsh has nothing to do with it except for half of the final solo. Ventitreenne is misspelled. You are biased.

You know, Lord, I've realized that Hensley also channels his falsetto while studying the intro to "Bird Of Pray" (a masterpiece!) and then, convinced, seeing them live in 1980 (with John Sloman). Hensley's falsetto and Bolder's bass sent me home with buzzing in my ears.

Certo! Inviami pure il testo e procederò con la traduzione.