Jazzanova
In Between

SWEET NEW STYLE (and much more Bitter Style was Jazza Nova).

"Through me, one goes into painful music,
through me, one goes into eternal pain,
through me, one goes among the lost people.
Abandon all hope, you who enter here.
These dark-colored thoughts
I perceived just by looking at the case,
printed and canvas-bound digipack
with gradual and well-squared
concentric and joyous openings
like Russian matryoshkas hiding a treasure
intriguing and hidden to many;
for which I said, 'Master, their meaning is hard for me.'
And he to me, like a wise person:
'Here, suspicion must be left behind;
all cowardice must die here.
O proud Curious Punisher,
We stand before the album where I told you
you shall hear painful songs
that have lost the good of the intellect.'
And then, when his hand was placed upon mine
with a happy face, from which I took comfort,
we opened the box and listened
unaware of the secret things that so much were promised
by the skillful and even more suspicious packaging.

Here sighs, cries, and loud wails
resounded in the starless air,
for which I began to weep.
Oh vile fate that made me encounter
this infamous and spineless scamp:
Various little songs, horrible speeches,
fake rhythms of sorrow, soft accents,
feeble voices, and the sound of hands with them
created a commotion, which perpetually swirls
in that aura timeless and tinted,
like the sand when the whirlwind breathes.
And I, who had my head wrapped in error,
said: 'Master, what is it that I hear?
and what is this immense filth
that seems to have come from a pleasant place
somewhat limp from gray suburb piano bars
full of weary octogenarians
ready only to pick up worn-out tarts
entwined in cellulite of whom
music is only a shameless pretext
and secondary?!'.

And he to me: 'Here we listen
to sad songs of those
who lived without infamy and without praise.
They are mixed in with that bad choir
of the angels who neither were rebellious
nor faithful to God, but for themselves they were.
Heaven drives them out, not to be less beautiful,
nor does the profound Hell receive them,
lest some fame the guilty would have from them.'
And I: 'Master, what is it that makes them
lament so loudly?'.
He replied: 'I will tell you very briefly.
These songs have no hope of death,
and their blind life is so low,
that only the dutiful release
in such a graphic and packaging-rich box
could make them hope for a rare purchase
from unaware aesthetes, somewhat gay dancers
who let themselves be deceived by so much outward beauty
to have no ears to understand better
what the attire cleverly concealed.
The world does not allow their fame to exist;
mercy and justice disdain them:
let us not speak of them, but look and ignore."

And I, looking again, saw a cover
that, turning and observing, appeared beautiful and enchanting,
which seemed unworthy of any pose;
Then I recognized some,
I saw and knew the name of those
who gave birth to this mechanical
and criminal design.
They dared to name themselves Jazzanova though
of Jazz nothing appeared to emanate from the chromed disc
nor anything to be defined as 'new' but mere
and useless songs sterilely syncopated, mostly
false and vile that the divine anguish
took me by the hand and never more abandoned me.

And when I further observed,
I saw people on the bank of a great river;
for which I said: 'Master, now allow me
to know who they are, and what custom
makes them seem so ready to pass,
as I discern by the faint light,
and why they wanted unanimously
to cross the river?'.
And he to me: 'See, O dear Punny,
they are not chosen souls.
They just want to leave
any part of this hell,
to lower circles if necessary,
but away from these
useless, senseless sounds deprived of the least
musical thickness and not.
Sounds easily comparable to discs
that just naming, prostate and bile rage
caused me: Buddha Bar, Costes, Café del Mar
and a thousand and more Cafes and Bars of all kinds
from Armani designers to the most stinking places
from Corso Como to the Hospital:
what ingenious and disrespectful formula
they found to make easy money
with minimal risk and intellectual effort":

Then with shameful and lowered eyes,
fearing my words might burden them,
I continued towards the river of words
and fell like a man who is overcome by sleep.
And in my heart, I said:
These Jazzanova or whoever for them
took me for a fool only once,
but never again will they take me and never
from now on, they caused me to be fooled by
gay-like and dazzling packages with die-cuts and graphics
enchanting like the false sirens
of the far-sighted and much wiser Ulysses.