Righeira
La Musica Electronica

Review I

A great, incredible return.

Or rather, we don't know. Because in all these years, maybe they did something, but the fact is that nothing reached the public. There were reports of their appearances in some very '80s piazzaioli revivals, with people like me (quite a bit over thirty) who felt emotional and jumped around. But nothing on record. Back in the '80s, they brightened our summer evenings with "Vamos A La Playa" and "No Tengo Dinero." Then they managed to sadden us with the concurrent end of summer and perhaps of our true youth - that beautiful, silly, absolute one? - with "L'Estate Sta Finendo," a little masterpiece that in many ways could be considered an excellent summary of the '80s. Then they returned, shortly after, with "Innamoratissimo" (...in the grip of a spasm?), another gem. Then, practically, nothing. Electronic music, summer Spanish influence, conscious silliness, and, in a way, a pre-camp (conscious and deliberate trash) — we owe it to them as well. They were pioneers; there's no denying it.

Now they return, or try to, with "La Musica Electronica", essentially a manifesto from the title. They reclaim what's theirs and what the history of pop music has reserved for them. A bit like when Macca picked up the Beatles or Formula 3 Battisti. Some people have the right to do certain things, and some don't. The Righeira, this right, or rather the right to resurrect the summer and very electronic Spanish influence, do have it. And it even seems, for a long moment, to return to being youthful, beautiful, silly, and absolute. We await the album with infinite anticipation.

Review II

What a load of nonsense. But nonsense of the kind you can't even imagine. If you haven't heard it yet, go download it immediately and get an idea. Crazy stuff. These guys, probably aged and with many experiences (?) behind them, return to being summer and Spanish-style beach-goers. And they start early, being mid-winter. The only doubt that remains after listening to the inadmissible lyrics and the extraordinary ability to parody themselves is whether it is trash, camp, or a faux d'auteur. Trash: it would be better defined as a shining and (almost) unprecedented example of "auto-trash," since the two trash themselves. However, parodying oneself has its limits. Emulating oneself, failing miserably, is a mortal sin. Camp: this could save them. If it were like "Escape From L.A.," which was a parody remake of "Escape from N.Y." with the same director and actor, then we would be there. Making fun of oneself, perhaps earning some money in the process, is a sign of intelligence or, at least, of great cunning. Faux D'Auteur: a conspiracy theory. It's not them, but two prankster boys in a basement with a big keyboard who decided to make fun of the entire country (not a difficult task). This theory (though very probably entirely unfounded) would be truly exciting. Certainly, there is something geriatric and funereal in this operation/song, which attempts in vain to resurrect the corpse of the '80s that, regardless of what one thinks (and I think highly of it) is dead and buried and solely for philologists. We await the album with infinite terror. It's up to you.