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It's hot, the Scirocco is a workhorse, it blows all day and rests for only a few hours at night. When it starts to make itself known, it immediately captures everyone's attention, worse than a catchy tune; bars, tobacconists, markets, beaches everywhere it makes itself talked about. Egocentric bastard but at the same time wise. It causes the elderly to suffer, but they themselves testify that it brings advice, so I tried to listen to it, trying to capture something that would help me escape this sultry perdition, but I heard nothing. I tried to transform myself by becoming agile, handsome, and transparent like it, but nothing. I'm not an alchemist, I'm just a humble reviewer, and so I thought of music... The music of the desert.
Of course, this is the right climate, this is the perfect temperature that allows you to appreciate certain things at best...
The random selection(?) illuminates "Rock Formations".
"Rock Formations" can only be of a aridity style landscape of Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner, rubble raining from the sky, a sound that could drain a lake on par with embankment and erosion of thresholds, a clean cut to the song of cicadas, a sound in any case, DOC.
The controlled origin? Palm Desert, home of the out-of-tune ones. The home also of Gary Arce (guitar and yawning man), Alfredo Hernandez (drums), and Claudio Lalli (bass).
Brant Bjork and I recommend...(1)
...and now everyone line up waiting for the Levante, its coolness, and its damp musical advice.
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