When I read that "Sandinista!" could be considered the fourth volume of Marx's "Capital," what I didn't understand was that one day, finally, I would find what could be defined as the second volume of Clitomachus of Carthage's notes on Carneades of Cyrene. It happened in 2003, thanks to "Togliti il tappo (Gaute la nata)," the second work from the Trombe di Falloppio. After all, well well, Hard 'n' Heavy is exactly this: tubas, probabilism, and tubas.
Like almost all Rock Metal bands, the Trumpets were born on December 29, 1989, on the Turin-Savona highway, at the Spotorno exit.
Flavio is the voice, the lyricist, the (cracked, but cracked with luck!) mind. Flavio, already the friend of Sepultura, the boy with the kimono of (barley)Gold, for the detractors of Orzo Bimbo (minkia, bim bom bam...). Flavio, moreover, passionate about birdwatching and an unyielding collector of Panini stickers of Luis Silvio of Pistoiese; yes. Falloppio, precisely him. Then there’s the guitarist/multi-instrumentalist Strega, nephew of Rita Pavone, whom the bandmates call "Qui, Quo & Quaracquaquà". Then Flober on the drums (of goose), ErriPotter on bass (belly), the only non-Muggle in the group, and Gatto on the purrs.
But what music do Our Guys make this time? ADR – Adult Disoriented Rock. Post Cat Litter, or rather "Litter after Gatto's passing". Heavy Mentula. Heavy Metal Detector. Or maybe, “I give you a case of sparkling wine if you pet it” Music. Vague definitions. Ok, approximating: Black Sabbath, Saxon, and Judas Priest, that is their fixed (small) nails. But finally, Our Guys (Grissinoni) from Turin are also looking at a group with true balls: the Ramones! Damn it, about time. Great Uterine Trumpets! By Jove! But especially for Juno and Minerva! Pervinca! Hard rock & punk! Clanging. Yesssssss! Finally, proud as the ox-cart (of the victors).
Here, then, is a crazy album, synonymous with refined intelligence, Parco of nonsense, in fact, and Regio of soul. Here’s "All Crazy for the Chariot", "Diego De La Vega" included, and "The Looseness" ("I’m at a job interview and I get the looseness”; who hasn't experienced it at Manpower or Umana?). There's a tribute to AC/DC, "The Aspirator". There's Flober taking the mic from Fallo in "Montecarlo". Instead, the photo/synthesis (chlorophyll) of the album is "Calcinculo". These dear oviducts ultimately demonstrate that they are second only to all other oviducts commonly understood.
Melania Trump uses and adores them. Queen Elizabeth would like to make them baronets like Causio.
Ai Pooh and the children of Pooh hide out! Falloppio has hit the bullseye! All crochet. Fairy hands. Subscribed, he has abounded. Great!
Listen to this album; maybe buy it used. Because, sometimes you meet a man who is just. Sometimes you meet a man who is pious. Sometimes you meet Giusto Pio. But sometimes, if you look carefully, if you turn the page, it's Flavio. Luckier than Flavia Fortunato. A rival more than Tiziana Rivale. Ballsier than Dik Dik. More legendary than John (Gion) Legend. More eminent than Insigne. More pop than Iggy. Dirtier than Lou Reed. More down-to-earth than Sega Sega Band. Wittier than Com Truise. More informed than Thegiornalisti. More welcome than Diarrhea Planet. More whole than the Broken Penis Orchestra. Without fail. Flavio, yes. The one whose wife often forgot him in the car seat at the Bennet parking lot. The one who posts birthday videos, where he dances to Julio Iglesias, which then go viral on You Tubercolosi. The one who reviews Julio Iglesias on Debaser, idealizing and rationalizing his loafers. Our Flavij (mo), in short. More and more charismatic leader. And this album of his perhaps should have been titled “Captain Findus doesn’t say shit to anyone anymore.” But you can’t have everything in life. Only white and good cod.
Pelvic anomalies can prevent the ovum from implanting in the epithelium and can block the Trombe di Falloppio. But here, from a sanitarium (welcome home) point of view, everything goes smoothly. Natura naturans. Culmen Tubarum. (Uncorked) Breath to the Trumpets!
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