Righeira
Righeira

THE REVIEW

The heartfelt Armand arms himself with adamantine armor eyeing amethyst expectations and, preserving himself from the drunkenness of an annoying suggestion to an unwilling Stendhal syndrome from any museum, reshuffles the abduction suffered by the obscuring of this work that remained latent and suspended in the summer of '83 where a necessary psycho sunscreen protection +5000 tested with the Geiger counter, concealed the archangelic scope of all this blessing of tricolor synth dance radiation.

The celestial padding for the Caspasian that time was suspended for forty years and more; was it the fault of those gray aliens, their insidious abductions, and the amnesias they produced? The fact is that the day before yesterday on Czech television, a music channel, the video of "Vamos a la Playa" started unexpectedly, and on the right side of the screen various information about the song appeared, the year of release, the names of the band members, what LP the song was part of, and the album cover... Well, the cover... I saw that cover and understood why I had been tricked by the UFO that hid my italo disco flyer: "You will only wake up when I say so, when I say so!"

That cover (even the back), with its aesthetics galore and alien elegance, not to mention endowed with futuristic extravagance of the classic, immediately draws me to listen to the record online where I definitively understand Ungaretti illuminating me with an "immense" during the auditory enjoyment of the work in question. And the question naturally arises asking oneself how the hell I hadn't delved deeper at the time:

1) the "aglieni" bastards?

2) the lack not of "dinero" but of the stereo to hear the 33 rpm?

3) or tormented not by the 1983 summer hit but by family vicissitudes that summer that led us not to take vacations, not to "go to the beach". And it wasn't a bother of financial emergencies aka "nun c'ho 'na lira" to go on vacation, it was an irreversible blow to my father's health, who went underground at the end of the same year. Those who die, one would want to see again.
...there's no two without three, unfortunately.

The record, listened to in its entirety for the first time in this Anno Domini 2024 (yesterday basically), left me blissful like you wouldn't believe. The electronics of these two Turin natives is true and rude in making you realize that those two misleading hits and their "Spanish-like shouts" you had racially labeled as the usual silly tune of an autistically vacationing overmind.

But as men prefer blondes, fortunately, Righeira preferred the La Bionda brothers. And all this may seem vaguely disturbing, but the discomfort of the obscene musical streak present here becomes one with the cover and the uninterrupted listening of these jugular veins vibrating together with phosphorescent green vocal cords, leaving you wanting to visit the Guggenheim Museum as soon as possible, even if you have no idea what it is.

The timelessness of these ancient synthesizers, used with childlike playfulness, immerses us in constant stumbling caused by the apparent simplicity of compositions that should be listened to in apnea, waiting for gills to grow, which surprisingly act voluntarily on involuntary organs. No doubt that the Stefanî Righi & Rota put you in a good mood, heartfelt congratulations!
Here we are on shores where the scorching sun filters extra"vacation" impersonally with a ticket for return only, in what state of "cooking" one returns, however, I wouldn't know.

The tolerance and benevolence of outsiders, for these colorful jesters, comes from Johnson & Michael subliminally always wearing suit and tie, regardless of how changeable the garments are, but that's where the donkey falls on the true bourgeois nature of those who danced distracted by the daisy synth dadaistic motifs that misunderstood in a "People From Ibiza" that came out the following year.

Therefore, don't waste money unnecessarily going to China for a course on telekinesis, just sit on the home dinghy and let yourself be pelted by these salty tides, aided by visionary texts, magically stimulating Siamese ubiquity.

"Time flies, but you dance fast with me among futurists and robots"... "And in my hand your hologram"... "We feel intense today"... "Better anyway Replacing all the pain"... Better?

And therefore, no matter what is said, my neo-psychopaths, with Righeira the summer never ends. SEGURO!