Kylie Minogue
X

THE REVIEW

Aho ma che cazzo stai a fà!? Simple, since I don't feel like giving good advice, this time I want to set a bad example (a statement that can easily be reversed depending on your point of view), and above all, I want to experience the thrill of a beautiful ad minkiam review. I considered a lot of ideas and hypotheses and in the end, I narrowed the possibilities down to two subjects: Florence Foster Jenkins or Kylie Minogue. On one side, the evil genius, the circus phenomenon, Ms. "People may say I can't sing, but they can't say I never sang", on the other side, well, the muse who inspires us all. Alas, in front of the immeasurable grandeur of FFJ, I felt small and inadequate, so I decided to bet on the commercial.

Ah, the small, cuddly, adorable Kylie Minogue, some say she's talented, she's classy, she knows her job; I've been told that, in the midst of her life's journey, she told the Stock-Aitken-Watermelon triad to get lost and went on a nice trip to India, only to return in all her lush splendor as the unrivaled princess of the dance floors. Yeah, Kylie is not like Madonna, Kylie is talented, Kylie, Kylie for us, you are truly great, for us you are truly strong, hooray Kylie 3!!! I too want to enter her world, I was blind but now I see, I need my Kylie to face the stress of modern life, but since I'm a coward, I choose this album, "X", partly because it vaguely reminds me of Iron Maiden's "The X Factor", and mainly because my doctor strongly advised me against listening to "Light Years" or "Fever", warning me of the potential threat of a life-threatening anaphylactic shock. "X" doesn't reach the deadly ugliness of the aforementioned albums, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have a certain perverse charm, and listening to it is definitely an extreme and controversial experience, to be tried at least once in a lifetime, possibly paired with a triple serving of amatriciana and peperonata.

You've all heard the big single "2 Hearts" by now (yes, you know it, don't pretend it doesn't exist); freely inspired by the works of Merlin Manson and John Five, with those choruses like "woooo" that seem to come from a parallel dimension populated by purple dragons and sixty-year-olds in a frenzy. Moving on, we have "Like A Drug" and "In My Arms" which turn out to be half-disappointments: pleasant, lively, I'd even say cute, no damn it this isn't right I wanted a masochistic experience, I wanted to feel physical and mental pain, not this!!!! I console myself with Kylie's devilish voice, it might seem dull and affected but I guarantee that behind this appearance there's an aftertaste of claws scraping on an infernal blackboard, of a screaming banshee. The best is yet to come...

"Speakerphone" sounds like a Gioca Jouer version 2.0 signed by D&G, aaaah how Kylie pants! From here on it's a vertical collapse, a swift descent into darker depths: "Heart Beat Rock", "No More Rain", "Stars"... suffocating rhythms, sounds a bit fishoboys a bit (vigil) urban, a bit downtempo, a bit al-theer-na-thiiv, an approach that makes Marina La Rosa from the Grande Fratello look like Sgt. Hartman... oh man, what a drag, at least with Kesha or Lady Gaga you could get a few laughs but this... boredom... narcolepsy... I'm so sleepy... beached whales... zzzzz... zzzz...

I wake up and find myself in hell: the air seems on fire, the landscape is barren and desolate, the notes of "Kids" and "Your Disco Need You" echo at full blast, I feel that in the nearby pit they're playing Eiffel 65 and I try to reach it, to break free, to escape, I almost make it but right at the exit a terrifying demon dressed in a fuchsia shirt signed by William Baker stands in my way; a punch to the nose that not even Mike Tyson in his prime and I fall to the ground unconscious. When I open my eyes again, I find Anneli Drecker dancing gracefully to the notes of "Sexy Love". I'm in paradise. The Norwegian Diva gives me a sweet and compassionate look, smiling magnanimously. "Please good fairy, grant me the grace, get me out of this hell!" "Of course savory tomato, but as punishment, you must finish what you started!"

A song called "Wow" wakes me from my psychedelic stupor. Wow, "Wow" is the Evil becoming music, more than Slayer ever could be! The way Kylie can sing by imitating a twelve-year-old girl in front of a Zac Efron poster is something incommensurably wicked, wow, or rather, as she says, uauauauauaaaaau! Since misfort... the beautiful things never come alone, the Australian Succubus pulls out an equally demonic "Nu-di-ty", but why is she stuttering like that, it almost seems like she's about to have a seizure; then all these syncopated rhythms; synthesizers or vibrators? Future generations will determine... Only "Cosmic" remains, another round of crystallized honey and the infernal banquet finally concludes. Buuurp!

I wake up barely conscious, feeling like I've just been kicked by a Shire, mesmerized and stupefied by such hyper-concentrated nonsense. My life will never be the same. Rate this album? Oh, simpletons, do you really think a scale from 1 to 5 can express the exact dimension of such a work? At the very least you'd need cubic roots, sines, cosines, Guelphs, kobolds, and eons... Happy Halloween to all!