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HOW TO RUIN A CAREER, ANGLOPHONE SECTION, vol. 2: Emerson, Lake & Palmer

(A deviation from the usual review of Italian talents, groups or soloists. This time we're venturing into the Anglophone world; after all, shall we say it or not that it is not only in the Boot that musical careers, which once set the path for all, are brought to an unworthy and disgraceful end?)

Dear friends, welcome to the eighth part of a delightful little column that, I warn you, should be taken in small doses and on an empty stomach. Inspired by excellent DeBaser fans who have the hobby of occasionally sticking two fingers down their throats, here I am proposing a few select listens concerning the distasteful side of the output from some Anglo-speaking groups or solo artists who truly made history in music, once offering quality music with potential international flair, only to fall into the quagmire of a very low-quality discography that renders them, for the most part, unrecognizable to the ears of their former fans.

Let’s give breath to the foul trumpets, come on...

Emerson, Lake & Palmer - Taste of My Love
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This album sucks. And it stinks, too. So, the venerable master Eddy Cilia - in whose school I trained - will be happy that someone still remembers one of his most memorable outbursts; I don't recall the occasion for such a statement, but those are trifles. more
Track 03 - Taste Of My Love