Willy Mason
If The Ocean Gets Rough

THE REVIEW

I've been lost for days in the voracious activity of this site... Reading and reading, I told myself, I want to treat myself to the luxury of writing something too, especially because I see a scarce presence of us, the other half of the world... and sometimes leaving too much space for CENSORING KINGS is a bad move and it becomes an outdated monarchy... it's time for QUEENS, for balance and equal opportunities in the field of music criticism as well...

I've read valid and sustainable things, but also a sea of trivialities and repetition of the usual linguistic crutches. What a bore all these line-ups, mainstreams, grooves, and similar amenities, stereotypes of cold technicalities that lose sense in their reiteration, as in psycholinguistics. And thankfully occasionally there's an epiphany of the Dowser of Carbonia!!! Playing imitation makes this otherwise valid experience of true democracy lose something and meaning. I would give a piece of advice to the editors; prevent more than one review by the same person on the homepage; it's impossible, as well as incredible, that someone spends time sending writings, inflating themselves and stealing space from others. But if you're always sending texts, how do you find the time to make love? Damn you!! It's clear that then the world is full of unsatisfied women with all these keyboard-wanking guys!! I want to write as I speak... fluid and free from complex embellishments that weigh everything down; messy, but loyal to myself. I'm instinctive and I live music this way. Feeling and participating in a musical attraction is something that transcends us and is often not so cerebral... almost like when a man appeals to us just for his animal scent. My friend Eugenio claims that "love is not in the heart... it's recognizing each other by the smell" ... that's how I want to present this singer-songwriter's album to you; yes, I want to call him that, American. Young and with a nice clean face... but then, as soon as he sings, a rough and strong voice emerges from mysterious glottic alchemies....

Willy Mason has just released "If The Ocean Gets Rough" and my instinct led me to buy it. I love intimate and collected music... maybe with a guitar and little else, which reminds me of my camping trips in Capracotta when, with the complicity of the mysterious moon, we would sing "Sentiam nella foresta il cuculo cantar". Willy loves nature and it shows and is evident in his lyrics permeated with simple bucolic. He recorded this album with the spirit of someone playing in front of you... a true and naked folk musician without frills and only with the strength of ideas and his voice which has something Bruce-like in it. The funny thing is that he does home tours. Just book, and he comes to play in your apartment. I didn't mean the intercom, fools! Among contrived music traveling digitally, Willy records his work in the shed near his house with his brother on drums, and friends.... and when it rains, they have to stop, unless they want to record the pattering of water on the roof which, as is well known, anarchically and undisciplined, follows its rhythm.

As soon as the first track "Gotta Keep Walking" started, I felt a tremor in the uvula... I felt titillated at that spot... with his American Gs our Gs... What good vibrations, what serendipity!! I was looking for music and got excited!! This guy has talent and he has preserved the spirit of the true storytellers of the past.... Mason represents the perfect balance between Dionysian and Apollonian and gives the idea of someone skilled, but with full control of his faculties, without the burden of even hinted self-destructions... He manages to alternate light and shadow... he can gift pieces of narrated dreams and weaves good poetry.... Simple chords and vocal expressiveness... Cloudy and clear in a natural alternation.... The essence stripped and devoid of misleading glitters....

Do you like bristly blues? Can you tolerate the spleen without getting melancholic? Can you hum a barre chord that's almost struggled, but sweated and real... Have you ever gotten moist listening to music? Has anyone occasionally gotten turgid? Can you tolerate citrus essences for her and Fahrenheit for him? Do you enjoy in the woods? Does the scent of resin give you pleasant Stendhalian dizzies? Then Willy Mason is for you....

And you'd better discover him alone without stupid guided captions track by track. Gift yourself your own subjective enjoyment and create a personal atmosphere. And if by any chance you happen to listen to "Cry In Your Beer" be proud because you're reliving a "TOPOS" of the blues... Trust your blonde Pussy!!

And now go ahead... slaughter me!!!!