lemandorle
San Junipero

They talked about it on TV, I heard them myself. There are some sly ones who charge even a couple of fifty to act as press agents for mostly emerging artists. They say the package includes a certain number of reviews on various music sites.

And indeed, the reviews are published, sior Enzino. But where? [frame with a boxing glove and the sound of a punch, low-angle shot as I make the Italian gesture with my fingers together] But on Rockit, for example, which publishes any presentation that meets certain standards (read: any presentation), and for free. [recorded laughter] Or on blogs and online magazines that, to grab clicks, have adopted the same [finger quotes] "policy". [frame with falling bills and cash register sound]
[high-angle shot] But do you think that some of these so-called press agents charge for [zoom in on my stern look with each hyphen] publication-of-reviews-even-on-Debaser-Reviews-written-by-anyone-who-wants. [frame with a woman making a sharp inhaling sound through her mouth]

Sior press agent, but what are you doing? What are you doing? You are very disheartened, damn the clergy.

The thing that annoys me the most is that those who fall for it are poor artists. People who are as enthusiastic as they are naive, but also very unprepared, not well-versed in the dynamics of promotion and self-production, who entrust their work to opportunists. People who can gather a maximum of three hundred for recordings and all.
What annoys me the least, however, is that these artists always, always suck. Prove me wrong, damn it, please. It must be that usually a certain artistic value accompanies a minimum of understanding of things, of knowledge of at least one's subject: I don't know.

The fact is that with equal artistic value (the nadir in a universe entirely made of black crap excreted by a god drunk on Fragolino), the richer, or the smarter, or the more social ones, like these lemandorle, have their video premiere on Deerwaves and sites already more like that. And on Debaser who talks about them? No one. Do we really just have to deal with the droppings of poor losers?

Today I feel bribed. I am acting as a press agent. This is the presentation of lemandorle:

A bit dj, a bit producer, a bit songwriters.

Lemandorle is written like this: all together.
Lemandorle have beards.
Lemandorle are punk: with computers, Google, and technology instead of guitar, bass, and drums.
Lemandorle love contradictions and have no sense of belonging.
Lemandorle are two people: a bit dj, a bit producer, a bit songwriters.
Lemandorle love Kanye West, the Stooges, and Enzo Carella.
Lemandorle were born in line on the Salerno-Reggio Calabria, on an August afternoon in the eighties, while "Musica è" by Eros Ramazzotti played on the radio.
Lemandorle just want to be loved, without preconceptions.
Lemandorle are a colorblind pop project moving between geolocated memories and global ambitions. A Mac, a microphone and three-minutes-three to tell any stories, described in images, as if life were a Pinterest board.

Everything has already been said and written.
Lemandorle know this and have no presumptions: just the joy of finally playing at the big table.

I add that San Junipero is that bad episode of Black Mirror where paradise is an artificial place where you can have a revival night whenever you want. Another San Junipero came out this year, by such Enne, a kid who has earned a not too large following on a Facebook group. Again, straight beats and synths and pretending they're good things.
The joy of finally playing at the big table. The joy of finally playing at the big table. The joy of finally playing at the big table. The. Joy. Of. Finally. Playing. At. The. Big. Table.
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Every artist, even tempted, deserves my respect. I fully share the repulsion for work, the desire to earn easily, to get laid easily, those things there. Then if the intention is good, it is good, if it is good, and there are no trials for intentions anyway.

The important thing is that with this story we do not end up reevaluating Raf, because it’s already happening, you know, the trash evenings, Demented Lip Balm, the joy of finally playing at the big table.

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Double Domx

We had been watering Taggiasca olives and anchovy sandwiches with 2006 Domper for a couple of hours already. We had all assumed the most reclined position we could manage.

I said that if there is one thing I want to do in life, it is to smash the hardware store window and steal the smiling cardboard cutout of Giletti from Bticino, to put in my bathroom, but no one laughed.
-Good one.
-Very postmodern thing.
-But indeed.

Two blister packs on the polished solid wood coffee table.
-Ask if they'll sell it to you, it's quicker.
-He says Hemingway could only write lying down.
-But do you think inventing anecdotes is a new thing?
-You just throw it out there and save conversations.
-I mean it depends if others want to delve into it.
-Okay, better than Hemingway? The old man and the sea, all day.
-It fits.
-For Whom the Bell Tolls come on.
-But do you think how much of an influencer are we from one to a hundred?

The domperidone kept us from vomiting, but we pooped loosely at least three times a day.
-Ever since I wrote that thing that giving grades like 87 is nonsense, well.
-94.
-Oh but it's true they're not doing it anymore.
-An Arab walks into a cafe:
-69.
-666?
We laughed. The walls were black, the light cold.

-So the title?
-"The double domper is the new trend in my living room".
-"We lived for a week with ten thousand euros".
-"Without ever leaving the house".
-The domperidone and Dom Perignon thing is genius come on.
-Yes no "double domper" must be in the title for sure.
-Yes but with the x like Popper.
We laughed.

-Allahu Akbar.

A rabbi walks into a bar: mitzvah.

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The joy of finally playing at the big table.

Emidio Clementoni