Taproban
Posidonian Fields

On the first day, God, fed up with angelic chants and celestial backgrounds, created Rock n'roll, and saw that it was good.

On the second day, He created Beat.

On the third, Prog, but within a few hours Ricky Wakeman bored Him so much that by the afternoon He had to create Punk.

On the fourth day, He ran out of inspiration and material, so He had to make do with some plastic with the results attached.

On the fifth day, He remembered those poor souls in hell, and it was the turn of Black and Marco Masini.

On the sixth, He created DeBaser and Giusy Ferreri.

On the seventh, He rested and retired, shaking His hips to the tunes of Lady Gaga.

Let's be clear, without a divine intervention in this current decade, there's not a shred of a new idea in sight. It seems there's nothing left to create; everything seems to have already been done, and ideas, when they exist, only serve to better assemble what is already available. In this creative stagnation, the weed of fierce copying can only grow. The perception of plagiarism has lowered so much recently that, bloody hell, Albano would have won the lawsuit against Michael Jackson for 37 identical notes. Now if you can make a record with 37 different notes, you're a subversive and you might even get charged with sedition. In the face of this now customary and ignoble technique of Copy & Paste, the TAPROBAN have rebelled and said enough! They have finally explored new solutions overcoming certain amateurish limits of emulation by aiming directly at "Direct Cloning".

Well! Saying that "Posidonian Fields" published in 2006 sounds like a Genesis album from the Gabriel era is an understatement. Faced with these initiatives, a fan of the "originals" can react in two ways: some, with a snobby attitude, dismiss them without even half a listen. Others, like myself, who only have the snobbish attitude in the armpits and feet, give them at least a chance and, succumbing to nostalgia, regress back to the early 70s, the natural period in which one can place "Nursery.. ehm...Posidonian Fields".

After the thrill of being enveloped by the warm and dear Genesian atmosphere passes, the fan's predisposition, however, is ultimately disappointed by the absolute inconsistency of the album. Nostalgia can pass, advancing arteriosclerosis can pass, but no one's a fool here! This album is like a Sicilian cannolo without ricotta, a beautiful package that wraps a cheap gift, it's like an intestinal colic that sends you flying to the bathroom presaging a liberating evacuation that instead results in a loud and solitary fart.

Our dear Taproban may have perfectly emulated even Gabriel's little burp, but they spent everything on their cloning effort reserving the residual energy to recreate a C-Sides of their legendary epigones. Too much monotony, too weak and flimsy. For the record, I only highlight the seventh track "Octopus" (another very original title...) the only one capable of raising my left eyebrow.

There's also the annoyance of having to agree with the die-hard fan who, with his "I told you so...", made me look like a pathetic fool, but not for long, as Taproban still have many other "novelties" in store for the future, it's already rumored that the singer will leave the group and be replaced by the drummer....

STAY POWER but ALSO STAY TAPROBAN LIES DOWN ON BROADWAY.