Franco Battiato

"master" for the boisterous ricottari, for the ignorant and hardened consumer populace. An embarrassingly musically null artist, endowed with a very annoying voice, whiny, lamenting, and croaky. A bunch of works passed off as art when it comes to nostalgic little songs belted out by this pseudo-intellectual of the drawing room. At first, it seemed somewhat interesting but it was a mix between a witch and a Jewish tram.