Fabri Fibra
Mr. Simpatia

THE REVIEW

The cover is eloquent: Fabri has shot himself in the head.
As for the charm of the title, it is entirely ironic. Fibra has chosen you to accompany him through the infernal circles of the nightmare in which his sick mind lives. Fabri has accumulated a long series of disappointments and is oppressed by a thousand frustrations. He then vents all his anger by unleashing eight thousand words on you (at a rate of 125 per minute) full of resentment, bitterness, and sometimes pure malice.
Just when you think you've heard way too much, in the blink of an eye Fibra leaves you speechless and floored. It takes him just a couple of rhymes to reach peaks of style and skill. You can't waste time being scandalized. You cannot afford to lose sight of Fabri Fibra.

Mr. Simpatia reveals himself as a mad puppeteer who pulls the strings of his puppets: there is Fabri, there are various national-popular celebrities, exponents – or alleged ones – of the hip-hop scene, and a bizarre mix of characters, like the Japanese woman in garter belts, the milkman who drinks expired milk, the prostitute with two kids to support... all caught in improbable and often borderline indecent situations.

The album is an absolute excess of words and style, full of simple yet never trivial rhymes, of fresh images so vigorous that they stick to you and satisfy your imagination. True talent should never be limited; only in this way can an artist's flair satisfy our need for something good. Fabri Fibra has succeeded, thanks to his innate class and the beats produced by his brother Nesli, which perfectly match the general atmosphere of the album.
And, I almost forgot: if you are "God-fearing people," Fibra may probably not appeal to you... so much the better, the feeling is mutual.