Spinal Tap
Intravenus De Milo

Real music critics, the true ones, are sharks. From the heights of their presumed expertise, they're always telling poor artists that what they do is old hat and that their music needs to cut ties with the past, to completely renew itself. Yet, if some saintly soul tries to modernize themselves, the critics are immediately at their throats, accusing them of "selling out," "betraying their fans," and slamming them with negative reviews.

It happens that worthwhile works are unnecessarily demolished just because they represent a turning point in a band's career. "Intravenus de Milo," a '74 album by Spinal Tap, is one of these. Famous is the anecdote of a Soho greengrocer who, upon seeing the negative reviews of the record, said, "If this album is successful, I'll kill myself!"—a testament to how much negative influence criticism can have on common people.

But back to us. Spinal Tap, to give a bit of history, emerged as a Flower Power group in the '60s, characterized by a barely hinted psychedelia and great energy, earning them early on the nickname "the silly version of The Who." Their single "Flower People," part of the almost namesake album from '68, became a decent hit, reaching the 50th spot on the Billboard chart. As the '60s ended, the Tap, like hungry hounds, caught the scent of change and decided to steer towards a Hawkwind-ish Heavy Psych, delivering excellent Space albums like "Brainhammer" and "Nerve Damage."

Unfortunately, these works, despite their quality, were not enough to lift the band from the musical chaos of those years. So, the band decided to cut all ties with past psychedelia and jump on the emerging Heavy Metal bandwagon.

Intravenus de Milo is the first testimony of the band's new trajectory, and the change is evident even from the cover, shrewd and sarcastic. No space effects inside: guitars at the forefront, granite riffs, lyrics ranging from Rainbow-esque fantasy to materialistic themes. Only in the long title track, a tribute to Miles Davis, does a sax break the group's monolithic sound.

Even live, the band rejuvenates: while not abandoning the laser shows that have accompanied their performances since their early underground gigs, the members now flaunt a glam look, which would later be shamelessly copied by artists like David Bowie, Kiss, and Motley Crue.

As mentioned before, the record was demolished by critics at the time, astonished by such a clear departure from the past. But we, the people of 2011, have an open mindset and can appreciate beautiful things even after years have passed. For this reason, I invite you to rediscover this masterpiece along with all the others produced by the Tap, a band often unjustly forgotten.