Kim Squad - Animal - Live at DOC
Episode 2, and so we also take care of these Nobles
The start is entrusted to Broken Promises, a well-honed thoroughbred that rides the electric storms of the band, with the usual alternation of dynamics that the group has learned to balance since their beginnings, when they roamed like a Roman version of the Violent Femmes, carrying a load of buskers' acoustic music. The guitars quiver, occasionally calmed by Roberta's organ and the discreet touch of Palmieri's bass.
They even shot a video for it around Torvajanica.
Low-budget stuff that Videomusic airs a couple of times before shelving it alongside the losers.
The World’s a Burn is a pounding 4/4 that hits hard and references the Standells (“I’m a young barracuda swimming in the deep blue see, I mean barracuda, don’t you mess with me”) before the concluding crescendo.
Which live never arrives before the fifth minute.
To the chagrin of those who wrinkle their noses remembering that Talk Talk by the Music Machine didn’t even reach the second minute, and who look horrified at the timing of Renaissance, the epic track that closes the album proudly showcasing its 11 minutes during which everything happens, with the "Greek" getting frisky on the guitar keyboard until Possamai, touched, comes to the rescue jamming with her keyboard.
On paper, it’s the stuff of 80s porn, in short.
Or from the vinyl frying pans of the 70s.
But here the game works. And quite well. It sounds proud and brash.
There’s an air of sizzling amplifiers and the scent of sex.
7 Tex Mex & Gilbert Gin is instead a triumph of Doors-like keyboards.
Serge Est Un Salaud is sung in Cambuzat's tongue.
It’s a ballad that smells of French hotels, with voices caressing and longing with lust, featuring Francois and Roberta taking on the roles once played by Gainsbourg and Birkin.
Macaibo wraps its thighs around sambuca-soaked folk/punk. The following year it will end up in one of the many small compilations that Italian rock of those years, in search of visibility, fills its lungs with. The compilation is titled Rockbeef, and Kim Squad stands nicely next to Liars, D.H.G., Not Moving, Settore Out, and Views. They bring it to TV on the stage of DOC kindly offered to them by Renzo Arbore.
The following year, Kim Squad will begin to shed their skin, the first to legitimize Italian in a "physically" rock context (and it will be a Frenchman, it’s good to remember this), and to recruit new people (including Cesare Basile fleeing from Candida Lilith, ready to launch the Quartered Shadows project, NdLYS), then gradually disbanding to make way first for Francois’s introspective bitter ballads, and then for the decadent aesthetics of Gran Teatro Amaro, where the dreams of rock 'n' roll crashed against the wall of adult awareness.
Episode 2, and so we also take care of these Nobles
The start is entrusted to Broken Promises, a well-honed thoroughbred that rides the electric storms of the band, with the usual alternation of dynamics that the group has learned to balance since their beginnings, when they roamed like a Roman version of the Violent Femmes, carrying a load of buskers' acoustic music. The guitars quiver, occasionally calmed by Roberta's organ and the discreet touch of Palmieri's bass.
They even shot a video for it around Torvajanica.
Low-budget stuff that Videomusic airs a couple of times before shelving it alongside the losers.
The World’s a Burn is a pounding 4/4 that hits hard and references the Standells (“I’m a young barracuda swimming in the deep blue see, I mean barracuda, don’t you mess with me”) before the concluding crescendo.
Which live never arrives before the fifth minute.
To the chagrin of those who wrinkle their noses remembering that Talk Talk by the Music Machine didn’t even reach the second minute, and who look horrified at the timing of Renaissance, the epic track that closes the album proudly showcasing its 11 minutes during which everything happens, with the "Greek" getting frisky on the guitar keyboard until Possamai, touched, comes to the rescue jamming with her keyboard.
On paper, it’s the stuff of 80s porn, in short.
Or from the vinyl frying pans of the 70s.
But here the game works. And quite well. It sounds proud and brash.
There’s an air of sizzling amplifiers and the scent of sex.
7 Tex Mex & Gilbert Gin is instead a triumph of Doors-like keyboards.
Serge Est Un Salaud is sung in Cambuzat's tongue.
It’s a ballad that smells of French hotels, with voices caressing and longing with lust, featuring Francois and Roberta taking on the roles once played by Gainsbourg and Birkin.
Macaibo wraps its thighs around sambuca-soaked folk/punk. The following year it will end up in one of the many small compilations that Italian rock of those years, in search of visibility, fills its lungs with. The compilation is titled Rockbeef, and Kim Squad stands nicely next to Liars, D.H.G., Not Moving, Settore Out, and Views. They bring it to TV on the stage of DOC kindly offered to them by Renzo Arbore.
The following year, Kim Squad will begin to shed their skin, the first to legitimize Italian in a "physically" rock context (and it will be a Frenchman, it’s good to remember this), and to recruit new people (including Cesare Basile fleeing from Candida Lilith, ready to launch the Quartered Shadows project, NdLYS), then gradually disbanding to make way first for Francois’s introspective bitter ballads, and then for the decadent aesthetics of Gran Teatro Amaro, where the dreams of rock 'n' roll crashed against the wall of adult awareness.
IlConte
24 mar 23
DeRank ™: 18,00
Loading comments slowly
