a shitty record. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a Dadaist review. . . . . . . or more like a cursed poet's review. . . . . . . . . a lived review. . . . . . . . . . . no, an elaborate review. . . . . . but how useless. . . . . This is a shitty way of writing. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . yes I know. . . . . . I'll take a course on LET'S LEARN HOW TO WRITE A MODERN REVIEW. . . . . . CALL ME OK. . . . . . . .
No thrill, no surprise, this album glides away unnoticed, and its greatest utility might be as background music.
A real shame, in any case, almost a stab to the heart.
"INFINITO is more than a CD. INFINITO is sensuality, it is smell, it is taste, it is love."
Only the history of music, with its time, will be able to do justice to the best CD in Italian Musical History: INFINITO.