Collection Letter 30 Days

Comets on Fire - Avatar


Comets on fire that I am going to talk ragazzoti are a group of Californians, just over half a decade ago, he decided to spend some time together to produce some 'sounds, slamming a bit' percussion and press the keys on a keyboard trying to hit a few chords. The result was the creation of a rock band rather mediocre. The fame came to them with Blue Catherdral, the album that made their preference for the psychedelic '70s. The critics praised their name and began to bounce from mouth to mouth, to reach fair reputation in American underground.
Do not be fooled, though (shit, we always try sti stronzi). Quell'album era una discreta puttanatona. Per darvi un'idea: mettete assieme una ragazzetto di 14 anni alle tastiere colto da pruriti prepuberali, un talentuoso chitarrista di 8 anni (ahah!!), un cantante che non canta e un batterista a cui tira il culo ripetere le registrazioni imprecise. Ecco i Comets on Fire di Blue Cathedral. Wow, che figata (pronunciato con voce piatta da automa).
Avatar, l'album da loro pubblicato nel 2006 di cui parlerò qua, non è poi tanto diverso. Il tastierista ha superato lo sconcerto causato dalle prime le polluzioni notturne, il chitarrista ora suona come un mediocre diciottenne (ce la sta facendo, io credo in lui), il cantante canta (mi commuovo) e il batterista...il batterista è equal ... yet, Avatar is a good album and now I'll explain why.


TECHNICAL
Poor Comets on Fire. They sound a bit 'to fuck, but this is also their beauty. The pieces are clearly recorded live, the execution is perpetually inaccurate, the instruments seemed beaten by the hands of an alcoholic and the sound quality is prewar. I wonder if they recorded the pieces in the basement of a cousin of the group. I'd like to contact them to find out. And 'no doubt, however, that all this dirt gives the album a retro analog output that goes well with the generally very seventies.
Rating: 5.5


CREATIVITA'
L'originalità latita in toto, la ricerca sonora allo stesso modo (inutile dire che i Grateful Dead risultano più arditi), non parliamo della struttura dei pezzi, spesso impostati su un unico giro armonico su cui si alternano le traballanti improvvisazioni dei musicisti (porelli, li sto demolendo), però (però, ebbene sì, però) il quartetto sembra baciato da una musa protettrice che istilla loro l'abilità di comporre belle canzoni. I pezzi fluiscono infatti con tale naturalezza da fare pensare che l'ispirazione che li ha plasmati sia metafisica. Insomma, ballate emotive come Lucifer's Memory e Hatched Upon the Age sono veramente riuscite e viene spontaneo chiedersi because the singer has never given air to the vocal cords prior to this work. Hey man, you're good, damn it! And your tunes sound well fitted to the grille of your crooked fellow music! What do you say? We've earned the sixth thanks to you? Sti cocks, man, I'd say so.
Rating: 6


CARISMA
And I want you here. I want you here. Charisma to spare, my dear. Charisma to spare. Listen Holy Teeth, or the beginning of Sour Smoke and you can not give me no reason. All have heard, everything sounded so cheesy, but all very visceral. The Comets on Fire are saved for a corner thanks to their unquestionable veracity. What they promise to give and what damage it is sufficient. If this album had been played by a collective of session musicians and recorded in a more professional, would not make even half. Sometimes, things MUST BE MADE TO FUCK, here. Listen to some parts of Avatar and tell me if you do not have the galvanizing effect of those classic soundtracks from movies that accompany the '70s perfectly with an old American car of a pair of glasses to drop. Thank you for being a bunch of pricks, Comets, please, do not study at home and not too many scores infighettatevi, because we still need musicians like you. And then, there begin to be on the fake cock minimalist graduated from the conservatory? Much better than the Comets, who make the low-fi ... because they could not do better, eheh!
Rating: 7.7


CONCLUSIONS
Avatar is left on the plate of my CD player for a long time, last year, and I think the reason is the height of my chest. Not surprisingly, this is an album that I can recommend to those who simply like good rock played with heart. If you want something a forward-looking or technically sophisticated, stay away, but if the husky voice of a storyteller to the taste of whiskey you still touches the soul, do not delay, you may discover a great band.
Rating: 7.2

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Tool - 10.000 days


Ve li devo presentare? Vi devo presentare i Tool, ovvero il fenomeno losangelino dell'alternative progressive rock americano? Più che spiegarvi la genesi di una delle band stilisticamente e umanamente più costanti del firmamento prog d'oltreoceano (in più di 15 anni di carriera, la formazione è rimasta pressoché invariata, non fosse per il primo bassista che ha registrato Opiate e Undertow), preferirei concentrarmi sull'ultima fase della sua carriera. Premetto che sono un grande estimatore di Lateralus, a parer mio, l'opera più granitica, matura e completa della band. Se tu, che stai leggendo, sei il "solito fan dei Tool che dopo Aenima non ha più trovato ragioni valide per ascoltarli", allora fai due cose: smetti di leggere e vai ad ascoltare per la bilionesima volta 46&2, magari nella convinzione che il giro di basso sia il più pesissimissimisssimissimo della cazzostoria del progressive rock. Cheppalle. Ecco, se sei invece uno di quelli che ha ascoltato Lateralus lasciandolo decantare in testa negli anni, per arrivare poi alla conclusione che tale album, al contrario di Aenima, potrà essere ascoltato dai nostri figli (quelli appassionati di musica) senza far loro storcere il naso e senza farsi classificare come "l'ennesimo polpettone didascalico anni '90", allora seguimi, perché sarai d'accordo con me nel concludere che, con 10.000 days, i Tool (e non ci son cazzi che tengano) hanno cacato fuori dalla tazza.


TECHNICAL
I think this one is the most technical of Tool, but growth rate did not appear to be beneficial for technical band. The display of odd time signatures and rhythms tighter does not give the songs more pathos and fancy embossed tape from training too often proves unrealistic. Guitarist Adam has certainly achieved notoriety thanks to his guitar prowess, we're not even take the piss, VA. The problem is that the poverty of his compositions, this time sought the cages and when he tries to give depth to the pieces by adding notes and not feeling (to quote my friend Santu), all reeks of subterfuge.
Rating: 6


CREATIVITY '
And here I am pain. But intestinal pain, because when a band autoplagia, the effect of "scraping the bottom of the barrel" is inevitable and the listener (especially after an outlay of a few tens of euro) rightly s'incazza. 5 years of waiting we served up e. .. ste Merdin pieces? Come on, line, eccheccazzo. Massa, Massa, is pricey Vicarious, The Pot also (apart from trills to Chris Cornell Maynard 1994, which pulls a lot out of the hat), but the tantric shamanic chants fill-album I'm not going to suck just as much the cavalcatone rockettone Rosetta Stoned style bad guy, who does not even have the original title. It 's true, Danny Carey, as always, carries out his job with skill and professionalism but also that he lacks transportation, visceral had great tools in their youth. The truth is that all older, but not all maintain the creative freshness of a Steve Wilson.
Rating: 4.5


CARISMA
If anything remains, it is the charisma, though this time is more evocative and less caciarone. The latest live from the sports hall are proof, with their sweaty crowd, their heads swaying and uncritical, the reverberations of the ruling that prevents a clear distinction between pieces, Maynard increasingly distant from the public, but the other three more companions. It seems that the tools are now the Oasis of prog, or a quartet of wannabe messiah fucking believe that to bring light into a desolate wasteland of music (which, according to them, it would be ... if the current rock scene, sti cocks) and instead compose the music as usual forties who claim to still have 20 years. It's a pity, because the aura of infallibility of the band has been compromised and the magic that surrounds it is partly gone. Steve, intervene and puniscili with the next album of Porcupine Tree, as it shows how good they make music their forties (pinkies and index to the sky).
Rating: 6.2


CONCLUSIONS
days was 10,000 be the definitive album of the maturity, the last stage of evolution that did not stop from Undertow, the catharsis of sound, the last stage of aesthetics and instead is a tool cagatina. Not a disaster, but certainly one Palletta of goat dung, worth some listening and a little more skeptical. If it was not composed of Tool, I would have been more lenient, but we want to do, has become a personal matter.
Rating: 5

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The Mars Volta - Frances the Mute


Cedric Bixler Zavala and Omar Rodriguez were singer and guitarist of At the Drive-In, a punk band sti cocks who recorded post-core, before its members share to create two other bands (The Mars Volta in fact, mediocre and Sparta), a new album very energetic and, for the period when it was published, bizarre and catchy enough to attract crowds of tired of alternative nu-metal phenomenon (which, thank god, was already fading) and fed the their latent desire for low-fi indie and scratching sounds that had long frustrated monolithic '90s. In a nutshell, the At the Drive-in was what today might be Enter Shikari, or a bunch of big babies who are jumping to bolster the under 20, snatched a few words of approval to leave over 20 and those over 30 rather indifferent.
For their part, the Mars Volta have to date released three albums and suonano un progressive imbastardito con latin jazz, punk, indie e altre storie pesissime, insomma, uno di quei zibaldoni musicali post-moderni che fanno gridare al miracolo ogni buon liceale affamato di novità. Desidero partire dal loro secondo lavoro, Frances the Mute, perché è stato il più discusso e, secondo il sottoscritto, resta il loro prodotto più significativo. Ho scritto significativo, non migliore...sì, perché De-Loused in the Comatorium (il loro primo album) è esemplare, è prodotto meglio (anche se in modo più standard) e le canzoni sono cristallini esempi di ineccepibile estro compositivo. Frances offre qualcosa di più. Si comincia.


TECNICA
Allora...diciamo things as they are called. Omar and Cedric are two talented cock, but undoubtedly cock. Omar plays with a piece of wood instead of the pick (and who should have heard his solo album can only confirm this impression), and Cedric has shown its limits multiple times in the live (and who should have heard her live will not confirming ... etc, etc. ...). I mean ... do not be fooled by the exceptional talent of John Theodore, the drummer who has accompanied them in albums and in almost all live (not in the past, since he left the band ... haha! Subjection, the range to find another way batteraro ...), nor the professionalism of the bassist who plays in Comatorium (a Flea, bah ...), even less undeniable keyboard playing (the color, his predecessor, we have not had time to evaluate it, as if heroin is taken away in 2003, Porello, I mean really. He participated in the composition of one of best albums of the last five years and has not had time to know, that joke ...). No, do not be fooled. Technically speaking, Omar and Cedric are two big cocks. I mean, cock for a typically moving prog. If we went to other genres, we'll be looking at two genes, but for the unworthiness of the genera in question (do not let me mention, I do not want to offend fans of frantic times upbeat).
'm not pulling me, I swear, is that solos improvised in parts Omar the album (the less successful) are quite inspired, but they lack sensitivity and creativity in the use of the instrument, because of the sudden, oh, there are cocks taking, du 'scale and some exercises should be done first at home, maybe for a few hours a day and for some years. His partner Cedric has made a very good disk, especially in songs like Cygnus bla bla bla (TSI securities not remember them ever) and The Widow, but when thoughts turn to the live performances easily available on the net falls hopelessly proceedings .. . ugh, shudder ... sin.
Rating: 6.5


CREATIVITY '
Well, here we go better. Let us just one thing: Frances the Mute a concept album that will make you angry, because it alternates solid and well structured improvisations of questionable effect, and long minutes (talk about a good half hour on an album of 75 minutes) of echoes, reverbs astral synth crap so disjointed and other amenities dear lovers of Hermeticism and ambient noise. The intellectual elite music lovers who like that sort of thing I recommend to skip the most human art to devote himself to a masturbatory epistemological analysis of semiology sound contained in these long fragments of musical nonsense, others (those who still mioddio, gets excited rock style ballads with Wolfmother's Mind's Eye) recommend just had to press forward udire l'ennesimo lamento di sottofondo farsi strada tra una canzone e l'altra. Si fosse trattato di qualche minuto qua e là, li avremmo potuti definire "stacchi atmosferici volti a corroborare il legame tra flusso sonoro e mentale che ogni buon concept album sottende", ma così viene spontaneo chiamarli per quello che sono: 'na gran rottura de cazzo.
Certo, se Frances the Mute fosse stato asciugato, oggi sarebbe più godibile, forse migliore, ma proprio in virtù di questa sua poca digeribilità è molto amato o detestato ed è, a suo modo, più mediatico, a partire dalla sua copertina, che raffigura un uomo dal volto nascosto e alla guida di una macchina d’epoca, fino al suo leitmotif, che a tratti concede (There are moments really evocative, almost brilliant), sometimes off (especially the will to live).
Rating: 7.5


CARISMA
Here, with regard to the charisma, the Mars Volta n'an menga gninta gnisùn to learn from. To realize this, just look at the African heads of the two founders of the band, just admire the skill with which Cedric spins the microphone on stage (often live in the thing that he does best), just count the number of times that Omar is likely to sprain their ankles when on stage and embraces the guitar ... mostly just listen to this album. That is, the human part of this album, I forgot ...
Ok, talent del duo è spesso fuori controllo, caotico, quasi barocco nelle sovraincisioni e nell’uso di ammennicoli ed effettistica varia, ma il risultato, laddove viene mantenuto più rigore strutturale, c’è tutto, sia nelle canzoni più progressive e articolate, sia nelle ballate come The Widow, uno di quei pezzi che i melomani intellettuali del cazzo di prima magari snobbano con alzata di ciglio e mano sul girocollo, ma che a noi mortali che ancora ci cibiamo di amore e cicoria non possono che regalare pelli d’oca a fil di pentagramma, soprattutto nei viaggi notturni in macchina verso casa.
Voto: 8


CONCLUSIONI
Gran album. Con tanti se e tanti ma, eppure grande. The substantial burdens undermine the style but not the sink, the cock of Omar and Cedric will undermine the professionalism, but did not decapitate, the absurd division into tracks by producers tax makes it more difficult to use, but does not affect the enjoyment. In short, much has been done to make this album a pigeon shit, but his efforts in this mission of the forces of evil music was not enough. Omar and Cedric (this time) were almost completely rescued by them and we thank them (not at all for Amputechture, but, to quote Michael Ende, that's another story).
Rating: 7.5

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GUIDA ALLE RECENSIONI

Le recensioni non lasciano spazio a divagazioni filosofiche e contengono, penso, errori di classificazione dei generi musicali (e questo perché sono un pessimo nozionista), ma cercano di esprimere nel modo più oggettivo possibile il mio giudizio.

I 3 tre criteri di giudizio (dall'1 al 10) sono:

TECNICA - il tasso tecnico della band/artista (il ché comprende l'abilità nell'uso dello strumento) e la sapienza e il gusto con cui è speso.

CREATIVITA' - il fattore originalità, innovazione o semplicemente l'estro compositivo degli artisti.

CARISMA - la quantità di emozione o esaltazione infusa nell'ascoltatore, often regardless of the first two criteria.

The review begins with some biographical notes about the band / artist and concludes with a Overall Rating , confirmed the final vote only motivates him. Good reading.

Baitbus The Unemployed

Capodanno Moltodanno

The new year emerges from his hole prevedibilissima time of consequential and the New Year is here that confirms once again the only party truly felt by us in the West relativists, agnostics and alcoholics variably soul. The reason is simple. A New Year breaks us. Banned the installments with family dinners and formal Italian family sharing so that states that we belong to a class social animal, thought corre subito al fatidico countdown, al luogo in cui questo dovrà svolgersi attorno a noi, alla quantità di bevande alcoliche da ingurgitare e al modo migliore per rendere memorabile il tanto atteso evento. Poi tutto accade in un lampo. Come una moviola impazzita, miriadi di bottiglie schizzano spuma verso il cielo, fuochi d’artificio esplodono liberatori nel firmamento, sguardi lascivi s’incontrano e soddisfano fluttuanti appetiti e licenziosi palpeggiamenti si consumano sotto i portici dei centri storici, il tutto in un caleidoscopio orgasmico che investe i poveri stronzi che invece restano lì, vagamente esaltati, ma presto sedati, a osservare tanta umana fregola sfogarsi sul finire dell’anno. E’ proprio allora, all’apice della kermesse, che una riflessione s’insinua tra le sinapsi addormentate da troppa cervogia di chi non rinnova tale trasporto: che il Capodanno sia la festa degli inappagati? Massì, cazzo, forse sì. Dopo un anno tronfio di merda, dopo le amarezze di una pruriginosa primavera allergica, dopo le avversità di un’estate puttana, che come un torchio Gutenberghiano imprime serate copia sulla corteccia dell’ennesimo single affamato d’amore, dopo l’autunno, che, eccheccazzo ammettiamolo, è sempre ricettacolo dei periodi più merdoni, dopo 365 fette temporali intessute dal solito trittico di vecchie meretrici rompicoglioni, ecco, dopo tutta sta pletora di puttanate, vaffanculo tutti, toglietevi dal cazzo and give me the New Year, my shit-kickers and bruciacervello merdosissimo New Year. Give me my trial, my American Psycho, my In Utero, my Lateralus, my Panopticon, in fact, my peak. And 'this is what the spectators ooze and this is what the observer on the outskirts of the city to which Dionysian party, with varying degrees of involvement, known to have participated in the past, perceive.
And now? What about the momentum of past post-adolescent? That cracked enthusiasm of the "time of pimples" has turned into treacherous appeasement of the "time of wrinkles? That the Peter Pan syndrome is leaving this neo-adult age so unaware of the price? Shock, dismay and even shock and Happy Birthday, Mr. New Year.