Giønson
Giønson II

You too will have listened to the latest by Fine Before You Came, you will have liked it a lot, you may have wondered where Jacopo Lietti's screams have gone.
Don't worry, you can find them all here. He has placed them on these sharp, vicious hc dynamics, vicious for the sake of being vicious, underpinned by the Milanese tradition, pick slide and brashness like it used to be done.

Previously the icon was the mother from Banda Fratelli, now it's Tiziano with the iron. And Lietti attacks the record by distorting it, the national-popular Tiziano, transversal like a turd that doesn't want to go down and makes you sweat and curse, and elbow the flush handle. The one who, with black and white filter, sang Tenco in Bocelli style at the opening of Sanremo and everyone went bravo, so beautiful, so elegant, it almost looks normal oh.

To say that the national-popular is bad when it is not a reflection of a popular sentiment but is a construction by those who hold the mass communication tools, right? When, apart from popularity, you remain the national, and not without a filter. It's a serious matter, and I know we agree on that.
By the way: I was listening to an important album, the third by Run The Jewels, and I noticed how often an appeal is made to the necessity of destroying icons, institutions, the cultural paradigms imposed on the western world by more or less occult forces: attacking from within out of a need for distancing, and because those who attack from outside often have a haphazard aim.
On Hey Kids, one of Killer Mike's kids does the chorus too. The chorus says bumaye, a joyful expression that in Congolese literally means "kill him". Killer Mike felt the Bern, he's not a destructive self-destructive crackhead vandal, not even now that he feels evil against evil as a necessary evil.

Sorry, it's just that the thing about Tiziano with the iron made me think, even if it's such nonsense.
On this record, you will find outbursts, mostly nihilistic, from diaphragm to microphone without too much mediation of urgency. Verses like bla bla bla bla it's your ass talking, one day we might go whoring say it. When the text is more reasoned, the outcome is one of individual defeat, in I'll always be here from Senza un Cane, and collective, in we can only choose faulty weapons/we have to aim to hurt ourselves slightly/that's why we will never win.

In the end, it's just four volleys for four minutes. They don't even take themselves too seriously.