Parov Stelar
Daylight

If it's true that even Gad Lerner happens to speak "in shirtsleeves," so to speak, and probably even he makes mistakes with subjunctives now and then, let's just say that we also happen to blast music in our cars like bastards at three in the morning listening to IGNORANT music, we happen to go to aperitifs in chic places, and we happen to go to "black tie" parties (I mean "elegant").

And if it doesn't happen to us, too bad for you.

There you go. House music meets jazz. And, oh damn, we like the result, we like it with fucking passion.

Pappappappaparapa! Pappappappaparapa! Pappappappaparapa! Pappappaparaparapappapaparapapa!

Because if we're talking about house music, well, we have to be selective; it's not like we can just give it away to everyone without asking questions about it, and in this regard, Parov Stelar leaves no room for doubt.

Because the background matters. And not everyone is capable of finding the exact alchemy between catchiness, danceability, and class. Put on a jazz record, and you'll get a wonderful dinner background, but certainly, that's not enough because maybe you want to dance. Put on a chill-out record, and you'll have a great post-coffee conversation, maybe with a lovely lady, but then what? You want to move your hips a bit, but with chill-out that certainly relaxes but after a while lets you down, you feel let down. You had a completely different kind of evening in mind. 

Do you go to a club? Among two hundred sweaty guys, where to communicate, you have to tear your neighbor's eardrum? Not even worth talking about, you want to stay "in black tie" because damn you've never been so stiff, maybe one or two times in your whole life, and damn it if we have to hurt ourselves let’s do it in the worst way possible, right?

What music combines the two factors? Because elegance+class+dance=ladies, and feminists please bear with me.

Served.

Parov Stelar is the solution, this record is the answer. Music for red couches and cocktails. And, come on, let's admit it, everyone likes red couches and cocktails, every now and then. Not always, every now and then.

Because no to aperiviti, but yes to aperitifs, we're super young and we don't care, we're the army, the surfing army. And frankly, I don't like uninspiring music while having an aperitif. I don't. There you go. So, to recap, Parov Stelar = House Music + Jazz + Lounge + Ladies. Spin and serve at 15°C in a closing glass, and you'll have a nice evening. Not overwhelming, not memorable, not one of those crazy wild ones that a fool like Ligabue will describe in a very popular song sung by kids on the beach, but a nice regular evening.

In the end, life isn't made up of extraordinary nights, the extraordinary ones are so precisely because they're extra-ordinary, that is, out of the ordinary, like "let's go to Bologna in the evening," and you shoot Milan-Bologna in the evening, now that's an extraordinary night, but the quality of the ordinary makes the difference. Aperitif = ordinary evening to be done every now and then; otherwise, the liver suffers. Listening to Parov Stelar.

Ooooops, didn't I talk about the record?

Read carefully, I sure did.