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Rating: I HAVE NO FEELINGS, ONLY SENSATIONS....
It's been a long time since I last wrote reviews, even the page for writing has changed, as I have changed, as the world has changed, as my way of relating to people has changed, as the color of my face has changed.
The bare night bows before my no longer naive eyes with my cigarette that never goes out, the strength to move forward comes only from what I do, from what I feel, like a madman I try to ask myself questions without answers, I fill myself with lies to avoid killing myself, I convince myself that everything is fine, even if it's not.
The nature that cradles me in its grassy arms convinces me that my auditory system is slightly in the throes of a wasted adolescence, of false friendships, of frequent mistakes, of abuses of conscience, of misinterpreted noises and songs for maniacs. . . .
Maybe I'm going crazy, or maybe I'm just telling the truth, and it's hard to see your values exposed, your repressed desires, the gossip, the malice of people who shoot at each other to avoid sinking into raw and nauseating mire.
Marta Sui Tubi's crazy CD intrigues me, it introduces me to a world unknown to me, a place of truth laid bare, of values we think we uphold but let slip away at the first opportunity like soapy water.
I wash more often to scrape off the disgust present in the world, the sadness that sometimes takes me, haunts me, immobilizes me at night in its stagnant wandering in my impure soul, we show elegance only when we are sure of our abilities, when we are not so sure we abandon the game. . . and that's it. . . .
If life were like this album, perhaps it would be more normal than the life I think I am living while instead I witness passively the self-destruction of my body and the falsehood that enters the bodies of people who show pride only when they are sure no one is watching.
I hate falsehood and love defects, the imperfections, the obsessions of my sick body which, like this album, only gives me more certainty of how sick the world is before my mind. . . . .
ded to: those who don't have the guts to say things to my face. . . . . . watch out, I'm coming for you. . sexy and the bad grass never dies. . . . to kiaravril who disappointed me. . . . nice improvisation.. nice debaserian act. . .
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Other reviews
By h.m.
This is where the fun begins.
The songs mostly follow an ironically disenchanted line, sometimes irresistibly funny, elsewhere introspective and narrative.
