Galaxie 500
On Fire

THE REVIEW

Prophetic in announcing the advent of technology as the new God in our lives, bringing solitude, alienation, and disorientation, but the absolute validity of this work is affirmed by the offhand comments of people who happened to be near me when I was listening: “they don’t know how to play”, “the singer is off-key”, “what is this whining?”

When I argued that I sensed a soul’s discomfort, a cry for help like: “where will we end up crashing our heads?”, any confrontation ended there, the distance from Galassia 5cento was unbridgeable. And how do I explain that these are not songs but a unique flow that includes each of us?

And so this “whining” is indispensable to me because in this record, like never before, are all my weaknesses, my insecurities, melancholy, sadness, my adolescence and youth, yours, the fears of not making it. And make it where? To what end? For what? But also the serene moments, even if often seasoned with disappointment.

The unspoken things you wish you had said, those moments of silent despair when you think you can’t make it, the screams that get stuck in your throat, a subdued resignation of feeling crushed, the things you don’t understand, the why’s, everything seems useless, misunderstandings and misinterpretations that make you feel painfully bad, with friends, with parents, with yourself...

Sure, also the joys, the happiness, and then? The banality of this very whining...

You look out the window, sitting in the kitchen, so empty that you can’t feel your body, whether it rains or shines it’s the same thing. Who am I? I do things, sometimes I do them and then don’t remember, who am I? I’m suspended but everything is so heavy. Is anyone out there? I’m not sure I’m talking to anyone, is it perhaps my echo? Tell me no, please, because the sound is unbearable.

Where is the light? I’m turned off... Is there someone who can tell me where I can find a bit of light? Will you appear to save me? Or at least tell me anything, so I don’t feel so alone. All this silence is too much, I’m not ready, but ready for what? So many questions without answers, where will I go, what will become of me? Me?

In the bubble I find myself in they tell me that everything is fine, but then why do I feel this way? Who are you to tell me what I must do? I’ll have to tell myself that the mirror does not reflect my image.

I will melt like an ice cube in the sun, I have no doubt, and maybe at that moment someone will notice me.

To hell with competitiveness, being “in”, being positive at all costs only to be exploited by others. To hell with losing oneself to be accepted, doing things you don’t want to do so as not to be perceived as weak, being cynical to hide insecurity.

To hell with the plans: “We’ve designed a wonderful life for you!” Who are you, my parents? My teachers? Have you ever loved me? To hell with planning, “specialization”, all against all.

The loss of orientation due to this rapid technological transition will manifest in catastrophes, and millions of people will not be ready to face them, we will not be able to react because it will happen suddenly. We must prepare to prevent the transition from happening in catastrophe, and only aware individuals who understand the situation will be able to defend themselves, and those who lack the tools? And manipulation is always present...

It is in conscious suffering, and in the resulting humiliations, that we forge our soul throughout the ages. Now the war becomes only psychic.

Dean, Damon, and Naomi, in a photo from the CD booklet, look at us, a gaze that seems to say: “We are here...”, with the sun behind them. We smile. And from the “mezzo sacco” Galaxy a loud noise: WE WANT TO LIVE!

We smile. We can make it.