The Police - De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da (Official Music Video)
Imagine you are guitarists.
Surely EVERYONE is good at playing this easy instrument.
But then you find Andy, a Fripp school graduate, who takes this nonsense to a level that goes beyond mere technical skill.
Flanger, Chorus, Delay, Sequencer, and who knows what else.
But the fingers are still the same.
Those givste.
 
LAURA LUCA - Domani Domani (SANREMO 1978 - Finale) [HQ]*
This is NOT a performance.
It’s just a message to my daughter-in-law, that is @[withor], so that the noble @ilconte understands.
Between me and the unfortunate noble, there is a battle that I am losing.
So, on this, I’m betting ZAKIMORT!
 
AMEDEO MINGHI & MIETTA - VATTENE AMORE (remastering)

I will never again write rivers of words that then get interrupted after all the effort I put into writing them without me being able to recover them.
On Lauretta's piece, half of the text is missing (not the meta), and I don't remember it.
So here you go!
 
Margherita Vicario - Mandela ( Official Video )

When you go out to dinner, at my age, on a Tuesday, with a beautiful & very married & disgustingly young woman who says to you, "Never heard this song?" all you can do is go home and hope that Ambrosiana beat Salisburghese.
Then, after checking the result - positive, hell yes! - all you can do is listen to the piece.
Which I find beautiful, especially because of that little shoulder strap that accentuates the neck-ear line which I find fetishistically IRRESISTIBLE.

Does the Nobile @[IlConte] have it with his foot? I have it with my ear!
Ah: that nibbling lobe!

Many think I'm sexually questionable but, unfortunately, I’m too straight, given my - evident - feminine side.

An unconditional love for the Women DeBasiche: wicked, bastards, sweet but nasty, strong yet human & frighteningly feminine. Sometimes against themselves.
You are the Future.
 
Star Trek Voyager - You Are My Sunshine
Ah, Star Trek is hilarious, say the ignorant.

This - Voyager - is my favorite series (I've seen them all, let me tell you) precisely because of "Seven of Nine," aka Jeri Ryan, who is an intergalactic stunner both as an actress and as a character.

She is a Borg, not in the sense of the tennis player, but as a member of a race that multiplies by assimilating the populations of weaker planets, turning them into a kind of drones devoid of individuality, but equipped with a collective consciousness: like the communists of old, if you catch my drift.

But let's get back to the hotness.
Here "The Doctor," a hologram, aka an extraordinary Robert Picardo (not Picard: that's "STNG") tries to help her regain her humanity - knowing that she was assimilated at six years old - by teaching her music. Then he falls in love with her: a hologram and a Borg, can you imagine! But...

There's no need to explain that they are both REALLY singing here. And if you want to see Seven of Nine in full view (and what a view!) you need to enter the world of us Trekkers, where the human race frees itself from its self-destructive impulses by exploring intergalactic space.

Until reaching there. Where no one has gone before.
 
Nick Cave Kylie Minogue - Where The Wild Roses Grow LYRICS
Of course, if I were asked why I cannot write a review here, I would reply that everything has already been written: even before it happened.
Moreover, I fear I’ve figured out the secret identity of @[GrammarNazi], which makes me think that Peter Parker is Clark Kent without glasses, even though Steve Ditko illustrated him with them.
But anyway, you know everything about this masterpiece by this incredibly high Australian, I know.
I prefer the one with PJ, but out of spite, I’ll post this one.
Ps. Can we agree that when it comes to love and murders, Nicolino knows a lot?
 
The Traveling Wilburys - Handle With Care (Official Video)
What can I say about these unfortunate souls?

P.S. From now on, I won't talk about old shit anymore, but I will focus on the box office (that's what they call it in the newspapers, probably not realizing that the term makes no sense today) exploit of such Taylor Swift, who seems to be all the rage among the young.
I remembered her as a flat, blonde wannabe trying miserably to mumble some Country, and instead, here she is racking up a million and a half listens, and I will have to review her very visible movie, perhaps, one day.

But first, I need to go see it.
And that's a whole different situation.
 
IVANO FOSSATI - LUNARIO DI SETTEMBRE
Unfortunately, I can't find a live version that matches the one I would like to describe to you.

Teatro Verdi, in Pordenone, late '80s.
"Discanto" had just been released, following the masterpiece "La pianta del tè."
Ivano shows up with two others and starts playing some old stuff. "Okay," I think, "what a drag!"
Then he says, "Tonight we’ll go a little ways; together with these and other musicians." And he kicks off "La pianta del tè," with the guy from Intillimani—yes, that very one!—materializing on stage, playing that stuff beautifully with those pipes that, perhaps, weren’t a vuvuzela.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Celtic harp, a mandola, a whistle appear.
Diobòia!
An acoustic setup, a sound system, a sonic balance among the highs, the louds, and the silences (yes, music is also made of unplayed notes, just ask Miles Davis) beyond perfection: even those who understood nothing of all this didn’t dare to breathe.
The flight of a fly would have been disturbing.

Returning to this piece, after having laid down the law, he launches into a diatribe about justice, cites Judge Carnevale—who at the time acquitted mobsters—and explains why the "witches" were burned alive.
Then he concludes:
"And, still, today, justice is administered... LIKE THIS!"
BUUMMM!, with the lowest piano key.

Normally, when someone tries to explain things, it drives me crazy (it happened to me even with the latest De André, who I think talked too much), but that time it was just right!

P.S. For dates and technical details, specifications, tunings (except for the mandola, which was in Open D major), please refer to those in the know: I prefer the guts.
 
No Killing - Violent Femmes
I've never understood, since the days of that mine of Alternative Culture that was "L'ultimo Buscadero," which sponsored them relentlessly, in what "genre" to place these extraordinary, wacky, seemingly messy & dysfunctional guys. Whom I adore, ça va sans dire.
Acoustic Punk? Street Garage?
Only ONE person can enlighten me: namely the Noble par excellence, ilConte.

I can't tag him here; I tried to follow Withor's advice but no luck: I'm a hopeless case!!!
 
The Cure - Boys Don't Cry
A few decades ago - or maybe just yesterday - I was stopped by the carabinieri, at about this time, while I was calmly listening to this song; registering a blood alcohol level of 3.86.
Astonished that I could still stand, they had no choice but to seize my car and revoke my license for two years.
Just now the same thing: twenty minutes ago from when I'm writing.
"I'm screwed, I think."
I remember drinking half a liter of ribolla, plus four shots of Merlot, a beer - interspersed with a Wiener Schnitzel, in my favor but not counting the Schnapps Aprikott as a cover - and three Glen Livet + a terrible watermelon vodka offered to me by the unfortunate barmaid.

"License and registration."
Well, what the hell can you say to that!

She - a woman thanks to the Dèe - once she checked the documents says to me: "GO!" Just like that, in uppercase.

I want to marry her!
 
Robbie Robertson - Somewhere Down The Crazy River (Official Music Video)
This - I don't know if produced here by the Archangel - played with "The Band," a group that not only accompanied Roberto Affittacamere but also distinguished itself by being the actual protagonist of that little movie by Martin Scorsese called "The Last Waltz."
Look at his childlike eyes, knowing that the era of free drugs had already ended before it even began.
Look at that disillusioned Native American gaze that knows his land was not discovered, but invaded.
Let's hold on, DeBasici!
We are here. Like it or not!
 
Edoardo Bennato E Gianna Nannini-Notti Magiche Italia 90 Video Ufficiale HD
Now, I don’t know how to “tag” people here.
I press the hashtags, I hit the “@” but nothing.
Anyway, this is for Withor, may God have mercy on his soul if he understands me.

I LOVE this piece!
Everyone calls me an idiot but that Italy of the 90s was BEAUTIFUL.
Then that damned Caniggia, with the complicity of the Ambrosian defense - diobastàrdo - ruined our party.
Ps. They shouldn’t have played that game in Naples!
 
Muhammad Ali vs George Foreman "Legendary Night" Highlights HD ElTerribleProduction
Those who know me are aware that among my countless flaws, self-esteem and ambition are certainly not among them.
So, if I don't go into the details and context of what has been the greatest match in history - and not just in the Noble Art of Boxing - and I limit myself to recounting it as I experienced it back then on live television, please don’t accuse me of Mac-centrism.

A valve television, in Super Black and White, that took three-quarters of an hour to "warm up."
For months, everyone I knew was talking about this match: even "Famiglia Cristiana" had mentioned it, due to the conversion to Islam of one of the two boxers, who were both black, but not of the same shade.

Muhammad Alì was beautiful, cheeky, and to my young self, he seemed like a negro angel: I adored him, in short.
But I understood that the other one was REALLY wicked, and that he might actually kill him. For real.

What does Alì do? Does he dance like a butterfly and sting like a bee as he had boasted?
No.
Because he is afraid. Of dying. For real.

So he lowers his guard and looks into Foreman's fearless eyes, saying: "Come on! Hit me, you black son of a bitch!"
He takes a lot of hits, Cassius, so many that he will carry them with him for his entire life; but those missed punches exhaust the opponent, who ultimately - as seen in this highlight - takes a devastating one-two and, as he falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes, Muhammad raises his fist: he could deliver another punch, but he doesn’t.
Because that's what a champion does.

Ps. I know all of this has been told before, here. I also know there are many boxing enthusiasts far more knowledgeable than I am—meaning me.
To them, still with humility, I say that there have been matches, especially among middleweights, of a different technical caliber altogether.
The Haglers, the Mugabis, the Hearns, the Durans, the same idiot Sugar Ray Leonard (not to be confused with Robinson) were technically superior.
Although, for me, the greatest Middleweight of all time was Carlos Monzón.
Ask poor Nino Benvenuti.

Uff! Sorry for the lengthy discourse. Yuk!
 
Regina Spektor - You've Got Time (SEASON 7 VERSION) Snippet
Why do I love DeBaser?
But why yes.
It may seem like yet another of my obsessions with TV series that no one seems to care about.
And yet I know there’s someone, lurking in the shadows, who knows that Kate Mulgrew - a.k.a. Captain Janeway from "Star Trek Voyager", here in the role of "Red" - is merciless towards herself, showing herself as old, awkward, and out of shape.

What about the Noble Captain lost in the Delta Quadrant?
What about the utterly stunning Seven of Nine who doesn’t fit in here at all?

"Orange Is the New Black" is something that should impose itself.
From "Wasp" Piper, ended up in prison for who knows why, to her incredibly unfortunate cellmates, passing through Donald Fuck The Duck's racial laws, a ruthless snapshot of the prison condition - in this case, American - here sublimated into a biting female irony, where the only decent male is actually the prison warden.

Ah, Queens?
If you don’t like this piece, you deserve prison. Meow.
 
That's The Way I Feel Now A Tribute to Thelonious Monk 1984
When it comes to certain things about Jazz, everyone knows I'm worse than a Taliban fundamentalist: I don't ac(c)cept - unlike the executioner - that things aren't the way I say they are.
A drummer?
Peter Erskine.
A bassist?
Jaco Pastorius.
A guitarist?
Pat Metheny.
A saxophonist?
John Coltrane.
A trumpeter?
Miles Davis.
A pianist?
Of course, Telonio!!!

Without him, who never sold a damn thing, there wouldn’t have been the Free jazz of Ornette Coleman & the like (like Braxton); Ray Charles wouldn’t have played the piano with flat fingers, Miles Davis wouldn’t have realized that his long, clean, lunar notes needed something “crooked” rhythmically.

Surely someone here has already talked about this "Tribute" double vinyl (I own it in that form); so, after a quick glance at the Line-Up, whoever - lucky person - hasn’t heard it before should be ashamed and then comply with the listening.

Ps. Okay; Mingus, Parker, Rollins, Hubbard, Evans... and all that stuff were great: but these are GREATER.
And don’t get on my nerves, because I’m like a Furlan driver always pissed off, to quote my favorite sketch from the noble Gioele Dix.
 
Gesù bambino - Francesco De Gregori
A seemingly harmless little song, almost silly, indeed; tiny tiny. However, I have always found it VERY unsettling from the first moment I heard it, many years ago. I don’t think the Prince could have foreseen what is happening in the powder keg, but certainly the piece seems to have been quite auspicious, by his standards.
P.S. And in some lines ("forgive everyone, except for someone") I think you can hear the influence of Lucio Dalla, who was at the time engaged with him in the "Banana Repubblic Tour".

From me (and not just me, mind you) seen back then, what can I tell you!
 
Official Season 6 Trailer | Better Call Saul
One last memorable season; after "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel," "Better Call Saul" - which everyone knows is the prequel to "Breaking Bad" - ends with a Grand Parade.

It's clear that the writers' strike first, and then Covid, have refreshed the ideas that had been somewhat dulled in recent years among the creators of American TV series.

I'm not one to throw around technical data at the end, considering that's not really necessary, but after a strong first episode, the second is a series of nested stories that narratively contain seemingly difficult knots to unravel, all enhanced by cinematography, a script, acting talent, and a soundtrack that's out of the ordinary. Or rather, out of New Mexico in this case.

In short, I'm savoring it slowly, waiting to krakk... um, download the latest episode of "Peaky Blinders," from which I expect something better than the previous one.
In the series "When, finally, you have nothing better to do."
Retirement looms, BRUTTOGGIÙDDA it was about time!!!
 
Peppino Prisco: le migliori frasi | Inter ⚫️🔵
Here. I believe that even the Gobbi must bow here.
Even Gjuanín Lamiêre (Gianni Agnelli, for those who aren’t Friulian) admitted that this guy outclassed him as a lawyer.
As humorists, in my opinion, they were really on par: Piedmontese sophistication versus Milanese acidity.
People who will never die, as long as I remember them.
Ps. I introduced his book "Pazzo per l'Inter" to people who couldn’t read and who supported completely different teams: they all fell over laughing, unconditionally.
But we have the partisan lawyer!
And the Noble Ambrosian colors are engraved in our hearts and minds.

About Futból, or what’s left of it, they’re worse than a Taliban who lost his camel in the game: unbearable!!!
 
Sweet Soul
Do you want to know what sends me into raptures and delight?
Here it is, the greatest drummer that I like!
I’m sorry for the rockers (Ian Paice told me he envies him a lot), but this gentleman, with his bow tie and his unremarkable looks of a retired accountant, has something that makes him unique.
Look at who he has played with, and why.
 
Arsenio Lupin - Sigla Iniziale e Finale (1971-1974)
To the Noble, who doesn't know that maman is French. Hoping you appreciate it.
 
Piero Ciampi - Niente risolto
I can't find the song I wanted to include where Piero breaks his lover's nose and says to her: "I did it, not God."
Cursed be my ignorance of the maranza!
Well, this is a mediocre Blues that even he knew he didn’t want to deal with.
I love this unfortunate soul.
 
Midge's Late Night TV Set Finale | The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel | Prime Video
Today is a terrible day for me.
I tried to stretch it out, dilute, and procrastinate watching the last season of "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel."
But there was nothing to be done: the final episode has arrived.
The End, my only friend: a'il never lùc intu iòr àis eghèn.

It's pointless to explain (I HATE explaining) the sparkling dialogues by Amy Sherman-Palladino - already beloved in "Gilmore Girls," which unfortunately was translated in Italy as the desolate "Una mamma per amica" - nor the paroxysm of talent from a stellar cast, nor a script that runs like a Swiss clock, nor the evocative locations and the delightful outfits.

It begins in the early fifties, a period I associate with the carefree flourishes of Fred & Ginger, musicals, pure entertainment shows, that America that knew how to do these things divinely, with elegance.
Then, through a series of never didactic flashbacks, we arrive at the eighties.

The most beautiful series I have ever seen ends here. Just like that. Without violence, shootouts, sex unless implied; which is more exciting than a thousand Porn Hub.

Two "Ah"
1) Yes, I know my feminine side is predominant, but I've never done anything to hide it.
2) Yes, I know this might seem more like a review than a watch, but this way I avoid the infamous DeBasiche stars, capable of instilling fear in anyone with less than four fingers of hair on their stomach. Pciuck!