Il mio nuovo sito

Come si puo' benissimo notare, questo blog non e' piu' attivo. Al contrario, il mio sito personale e' vivo e vegeto e lo trovate qui:

www.alexfranquelli.com

Freddi flussi fatui.

In qualche modo bisognerá pur ricominiciare. Sono bravissimo negli intermezzi ma pessimo negli inizi; quindi figuriamoci quando si tratta di ricominciare.

Ottima estate, buono l’autunno e l’accenno d’inverno che sferza solenne questi luoghi. Ora non resta che lasciare che il flusso di pensieri riprenda il sopravvento sulla pigrizia ed il poco tempo a disposizione e il resto verrá da sé. O no ?

Angra - Aurora Consurgens



Dir En Grey - Vulgar




Dustsucker - Jack Knife Rendezvous




Goatwhore - A haunting curse




Stone Sour - Come what(ever) may




IV Luna - Anteroom





Relapsed - Into a former state




Unearth - III: In the eyes of fire




Warrior Soul - Last Decade Dead Century, Drugs, God & the New Republic, Salutations from the Ghetto Nation, Chill Pill, Space Age Cowboys

Luci di luglio

L’ansia da Campione del Mondo, la sera che scende immobile sulle ali di un vento che non c’e’, l’insalata nel piatto, Israele che domina il mondo, il caldo micidiale a Heathrow, il tennis, l’etica del Campione del Mondo (non sbeffeggiare ma rilancia con classe il titolo conquistato sul campo), questo Cabernet del Veneto, Francesca che parte per poi tornare, i Gregor Samsa che girano per la stanza, i miei attributi che escono figuratamente fuori quando devono (e oggi l’hanno fatto !), i complimenti dei colleghi perché ora sono un Campione del Mondo, un CD terminato e solo da mixare, la voglia di tornare su un palco, il pensiero che va a chi si sta spegnendo, le digressioni filosofiche che toccano terra quando spiega alla solita idiota che “insultare e’ un’ arte” ma tanto lei avra’ capito altro, le ballerine, una canzone che soffusa si richiude su se stessa e il Sudoku sul letto, l’ananas che non so aprire, la Transiberiana, la Corea del Nord, voglia d’Iran, il pensiero alla Finlandia, un’idea di Caraibi, il vino che mi cade sulla tastiera, le recensioni che non scrivo, tutte le mie foto perse, il pallone che si sgonfia ma a me non me ne frega niente perché nasco romanista e quindi alter dal popolino, le messicane che sfuggono al Tommaso, l’eco nella notte di Wexham, la mia auto maltrattata, tutte le ex che ringrazio il mio buon senso per aver trasformate in ricordi prima che fosse troppo tardi, il piú grande libro mai scritto, Tesco che non chiude mai, “fuck off mate, stop pestering me and get a fuckin life”, lo scozzese di sotto a cui mi sono presentato quando era ubriaco e da lucido non sa chi sono, la campagna inglese, l’odio, il duo comico col fido Tomma, l’armonia e tutto quello che vi siete sempre chiesti e non avete mai avuto voglia di chiedermi.

Alla fine la Finale !

My silence is almost over. Right now I can only scream for joy.
More details soon. Watch this space...

FORZA AZZURRI !


...und Arrivederci, Krauten !

I'll see you there !

Forget what I wrote yesterday. Today’s another day and the sun is unfortunately still shining on our heads on this island.
Tomorrow’s another day (right, who said it ?? however: she was almost right) and I’ll fly to Rome to close a deal, meet the most precious mind, fix a tooth and…sing live with Tintozenna !
Yeah, you read it right: as soon as my flight touches the ground of the Eternal City, I’ll rush to a small town near Rome and will sing “Fermati !” with my brothers in Tintozenna.
I always said I am the fifth (now fourth) member of the band and now I have a chance to prove it.
Stand back, forget, listen.

A blue lotus

Wind that blows through my shameful heaven
Bring a blue lotus from the stars
Leave the voices behind
While a moltitude of creatures shields themselves from rain

Knock on my door while I wake up
And a wave of solitude rocks the shadow
As it opens to the mist and sound
Of a lonely harmony that heals the pain of distance

Find your way through the gloomy morning
As I cast a wave of late memories
Reaching the depth of timeless nights
and the dark folds the pages of sin

You wave your arms and the velvet drape falls
Like a sign of fear and mourning
And a tragedy coming on your legs
Unleashes The End and it’s too cold outside

Happy 06/06/06.

Apocalypse Chapter 13

• Of the beast with seven heads and of a second beast.

  13:1. And I saw a beast coming up out the sea, having seven heads and ten horns: and upon his horns, ten diadems: and upon his heads, names of blasphemy.

  A beast... This first beast with seven heads and ten horns, is probably the whole company of infidels, enemies and persecutors of the people of God, from the beginning to the end of the world. The seven heads are seven kings, that is, seven principal kingdoms or empires, which have exercised, or shall exercise, tyrannical power over the people of God; of these, five were then fallen, viz.: the Egyptian, Assyrian, Chaldean, Persian, and Grecian monarchies: one was present, viz., the empire of Rome: and the seventh and chiefest was to come, viz., the great Antichrist and his empire. The ten horns may be understood of ten lesser persecutors.

  13:2. And the beast which I saw was like to a leopard: and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion. And the dragon gave him his own strength and great power.

  13:3. And I saw one of his heads as it were slain to death: and his death’s wound was healed. And all the earth was in admiration after the beast.

  One of his heads, etc... Some understand this of the mortal wound, which the idolatry of the Roman empire (signified by the sixth head) received from Constantine; which was, as it were, healed again by Julian the Apostate.

  13:4. And they adored the dragon which gave power to the beast. And they adored the beast, saying: Who is like to the beast? And who shall be able to fight with him?

  13:5. And there was given to him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies: and power was given to him to do, two and forty months.

  13:6. And he opened his mouth unto blasphemies against God, to blaspheme his name and his tabernacle and them that dwell in heaven.

  His tabernacle, etc... That is, his church and his saints.

  13:7. And it was given unto him to make war with the saints and to overcome them. And power was given him over every tribe and people and tongue and nation.

  13:8. And all that dwell upon the earth adored him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb which was slain from the beginning of the world.

  Slain from the beginning, etc... In the foreknowledge of God; and inasmuch as all mercy and grace, from the beginning, was given in view of his death and passion.

  13:9. If any man have an ear, let him hear.

  13:10. He that shall lead into captivity shall go into captivity: he that shall kill by the sword must be killed by the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints.

  13:11. And I saw another beast coming up out of the earth: and he had two horns, like a lamb: and he spoke as a dragon.

  Another beast... This second beast with two horns, may be understood of the heathenish priests and magicians; the principal promoters both of idolatry and persecution.

  13:12. And he executed all the power of the former beast in his sight. And he caused the earth and them that dwell therein to adore the first beast, whose wound to death was healed.

  13:13. And he did great signs, so that he made also fire to come down from heaven unto the earth, in the sight of men.

  13:14. And he seduced them that dwell on the earth, for the signs which were given him to do in the sight of the beast: saying to them that dwell on the earth that they should make the image of the beast which had the wound by the sword and lived.

  13:15. And it was given him to give life to the image of the beast: and that the image of the beast should speak: and should cause that whosoever will not adore the image of the beast should be slain.

  13:16. And he shall make all, both little and great, rich and poor, freemen and bondmen, to have a character in their right hand or on their foreheads:

  13:17. And that no man might buy or sell, but he that hath the character, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.

  13:18. Here is wisdom. He that hath understanding, let him count the number of the beast. For it is the number of a man: and the number of him is six hundred sixty-six.

  Six hundred sixty-six... The numeral letters of his name shall make up this number.

A blue train

La quiete scivola in gocce scure,
Sul manto lieve di una strada di cittá
Dove l’impeto risale la scia fino a giungere
Nel lembo estremo di solitudine
Quasi a sfiorare l’astro notturno
Tra il veleno e la pioggia
E le radici e le fondamenta
E la rabbia e l’amore.

Vibrazioni basse scuotono l’ombra,
Persa tra il fumo tossico e il dolore della sera.
Il suono pigro ha le labbra umide del vino buono
Del soffio cruento di una corda che flette su se stessa.
Solo attimi prima del battito asciutto che risale dal fondo del palco
E aspetta di fuggire all’unisono con chi lo voglia seguire,
Nessuna meta, nessuna parola ci unisce
Eppure la luce sfugge e pare sempre cosí lontana.

Vicino c’é il vociare, l’operoso nulla delle mani che frugano, pagano e scompaiono piene.
E’ facile distinguere il buono dall’amico lí su quel seggio nell’angolo,
Mentre la strada e’ il letto di fiume su cui lasciar scivolare il buio
Ma la stanza ora e’ ferma; freme e guarda, guarda, guarda e non ti trova.
I momenti sono piú lunghi, le dita si muovono nell’ombra, il seggio e’ un ricordo giá dopo un attimo.
Ti alzi, il nemico e’ giá vinto prima di combattere ma non smette e guarda, guarda, guarda e ti scorge.
C’e’ musica ma silenzio. Fermo. Fiato. Umido. Battito. Fumo. Pioggia. L’astro.
Tutto tace ed ha trovato il suo re.
Non morire, John Coltrane

So far so good...so what ?

A lot of things happen for a reason, others don’t even need one. Just a few happen and we don’t even know why. I think I followed this last option when I booked my return ticket to Rome yesterday. It will be a very busy summer here in my office and I’ll be managing a sub-project worth a nice lump of quid, so I won’t have a chance to sweat in my hometown - which is something I don’t particularly fancy anyway.
I’ll be in Rome for a long weekend at the end of the second week of June for a courtesy visit to my beloved dentist and to “close a deal” with the tempting beauty that will hopefully grace my summer and beyond. Let’s see.

In the meantime: I am celebrating my third year in the UK and..so far so good. I mean, the weather has never been so miserable but it gave me a chance to look back at what I have done and…3 jobs, 6 flats (5 rented, 1 bought), 1 CD, a few hundred articles later I don’t think I can complain too much but there is no time for celebrations on this side of the world.
The big targets are yet to be achieved and I can hear that ticking noise that tells me that I have to hurry up and get things done before it’s to late. This last thought may sound as the saddest I’ve ever put on this blog and people who know me quite well are aware of what time means to me.
Nevermind.

By the way: just another recensione dell’ennesimo gruppetto mediocre. La potete trovare qui e non vi consiglio di comprare l’album. Tanto ne avete giá come minimo 8 in cantina cosí.

Ad maiora !

Skitsystem - Stigmata

Prima che me lo dimentichi: la recensione di un disco divertentissimo (mai giudicare un book by its cover...) che prende una certa velocitá e non la lascia piú.

Ogni tanto aiuta rilassarsi e lasciare che la musica muova le tue meningi con un ritmo forsennato a dovere. Nulla da aggiungere. Questi sono i fratellini dei Turbonegro.

Stardust and chipped windscreens

- How are you today ?
- Very bad thank you

A pebble thought it was time to take a stroll on the motorway and decided to bounce on my windscreen just to see if it was fun. Judging by the size of the crack on my windscreen, he didn’t survive enough to say anything to someone and I am not too glad he chose my Punto as a springboard. Life and death of a pebble.

It happened after a fantastically brilliant weekend spent in a way I will always remember. No, I didn’t do much alcohol but I got a much better effect without the following day’s hangover. Something to repeat as soon as possible. For as long as possible… Thank you, F.

Oh, by the way: there’s a review here. It’s in italiano, cosí forse e’ meglio se descrivo quello che c’e’ sopra in pura madrelingua. Non si tratta di una band straniera stavolta ma di un duo romano davvero talentuoso. Il loro e’ un industrial forse un pó vecchia maniera ma di assoluta efficacia. Cliccare per credere.

Ora credo di dover tornare all’English just to say that things with the band are absolutely OK. Now we feel like a “band” and we play like one; which doesn’t happen all the time. It’s a cool bunch of guys always willing to have a laugh and I always end up drinking 4 litres (of water…) when I am in the studio with them. Good sign.

Maledetta primavera !

Tra il poco tempo per fare una cosa ed il poco tempo per farne un’altra scelgo sempre l’opzione di mezzo: poco tempo per tutto.
A parte i sotterfugi linguistici c’e’ da dire che qui fa un caldo truzzo e ció si ripercuote sulla mia voglia di fare. Ma non su quella di dormire ed e’ per questo che sposto giornalmente la sveglia 5 minuti piú avanti e due metri piú indietro. Alla fine della settimana dormo 1 ora in piú e ho fatto pure piú moto.
Leggo ora che abbiamo un Presidente con un cognome che mi ispira poca simpatia e che tutti hanno scoperto che il calcio in Italia e’ malatissimo.
Detto tra noi me ne frega poco di entrambe le cose seppure sia interessatissimo alla politica e tifosissimo della Maggika. Allora perché ? Perché la politica italiana non e’ politica ed il calcio italiano non e’ calcio.
Allora che fai ? emigri. Fatto.

Prima che me ne dimentichi: lo spazio myspace della mia nuova band e’ online e ci sono delle nuove (beh..le prime) foto. Il sito invece ha un logo di presentazione ironico (ma non tutti lo capiscono…) e langue sotto ogni punto di vista. Ma a noi ce ne frega poco anche di questo.
E che dire allora della recensione dell’album dei Thyrane su Kronic ? Nulla..altrimenti io che scrivo a fare ?

Don't mug yourself !

There is always an ironic sense of boredom in a bank holiday weekend. Things don’t go slower just because there’s an additional day when you can add some booze to the toxic waste you have been accumulating during the working week.

Parties don’t start later leaving you the time to tidy up your room (pardon me…flat) and you are not entitled to some extra hours of sleep because the bloody British sun sneaks in as soon as it wakes up finding its way through the gap between the curtain and the cardboard (pardon me…wall).

That’s the main reason why people don’t know what to do with their Monday and they simply can’t wait to get back to work because the wait for the next (and normal) weekend is much more exciting than the miserable end of a prolonged joy. Luckily the next Bank Holiday weekend is far. Two weeks time and here it goes again.

My bank holiday weekend was no different from what I have just described. I met up with my friend who came to England for a musical event we’ll hardly forget but most of all we made the acquaintance of an Anglo/Caribbean girl who is seriously fond of Nanni Moretti.
Now: I am a huge fan of this director and I sometimes tend to resemble to a few of his characters but even tough she tried to explain to us the reasons for such a big love, we still found it amazing that someone who doesn’t know Italy at all (let alone its culture) can find Moretti an “unpredictable genius whose talent is so big that even a blind person could read between the lines of the subtitles on his movies”. Right. What’s next?

The party where I and my friend met this woman on Saturday night came as a big surprise. Imagine a huge house in Harlesden (north-west London), a bunch of artists who gathered for the event to show their informal documentaries or artistic pictures to musicians, dancers, psychos, onlookers, me and my friend.
It was wicked to say the least and in the end we left our email addresses to be told when the next monthly party takes place.
I even ended up getting to know a guy (he calls himself a “musical poet” and I have a few reasons to say he’s not that wrong) who told me about his love for experimental music, Tom Waits and Mike Patton. We exchanged email addresses and we’ll meet again very soon. I reckon we both have a couple of things in mind we could work on together…

When I moved to the UK 3 years ago with my weird “Italy meets America and Jamaica” accent I had to learn the whole language from scratch. Situations taught me that it’s not always important to learn how to write/say things perfectly because the silent understanding of everyday conversation takes you further than a bunch of stupid years at school.
All true but a couple of things made me wonder if I’d have ever learned the attitude (more than the language itself) the Brits speak with. One reason was that I couldn’t understand the monologue in Parklife from Blur. The other was that I couldn’t understand a damn thing Mike Skinner from The Streets was saying.

Original Pirate Material was an album which accompanied me during my first summer in London with its mid-tempos, upbeats and theatrical lyrics “pushed forward” by a teenager from Birmingham with a funny face and a stunning talent. Today I was reading a review I wrote for his second album and I was watching a few videos I somehow managed to record during last year.

The lyrical power is stronger than ever and his attitude (and basically what he says) is much clearer now than it was when, half asleep, I was driving from the south coast of Britain on the wrong side of the motorway for the first time in my life.
Mike Skinner reinvented a genre giving the status of “common language” to the slang spoken in and outside pubs and schools by teenagers. Yes, by chavs.
That’s the product of today’s working class of the Old Blighty and that’s what you get on a Mike Skinner’s album.

A few videos:

The Streets - The Irony Of It All
Mike Skinner on "Pranging Out"
The Streets - Blinded By The Lights
The Streets - Let's Push Things Forward

Once you're there...

Let’s face it: we’re on the verge of something that is going to happen and from which we are all going to learn a lesson. If you are driving in the UK in this period you must have noticed that the streets are packed with scared drivers. When I say “scared”, I do mean it. I know it because I am afraid as well. Afraid of what ? Well, something bad is going to happen in a few hours and once it becomes reality, there is no way to go back.
Get in your car, turn on your stereo, put your seat belts on and chill out thinking that you’re going home after a long day in the office.
Everything is fine until you drive by the first service station (or “garage” as you want to call it): the monster is there.
The price for a litre of Diesel is £ 0.99 and within a few hours the first pumps will start selling it at £ 1. Once you pass that psychological threshold it is too late: they have won again. Of course there is a big fuss about it, people complain and say this is not acceptable but..how long will it last ? Just give it a week or two and we’ll be back to normality this time hoping “they” will be fair and that they will be good with us for a while.
In Italy I heard that Codacons (one of the biggest consumers association) said “people should not fill their tanks completely and perhaps they should empty their boots, the ashtrays, use the car only if absolutely necessary and even drive slower”. Rubbish: totally rubbish. It’s all about time and we’ll be begging multinationals such as Shell and Esso to be fair once again. They will tell us it is not possible to do otherwise and will give us a radio or a bag every 25 tanks we fill up.
I know I am not giving the solution to this problem, I know there are other subjects worth my and your time, I even know I’ll fill up my tank this afternoon simply because I need my car in my everyday life but as the day I will tell all these people to fuck off gets closer, I realize that this is just the tip of an iceberg which includes ostracism towards electrical cars, alternative ways of locomotion, environmentally friendly politics, peace in the middle-east, strange viruses, weird video-messages…


Yesterday I was in the BBC studios in White City checking out a few songwriters. I had an amazing time also because I could see Arsenal win with a thrill due to Riquelme missing a penalty at the very last minute. I hate saying that but I knew he was going to miss it because in that penalty there is the whole career of a player who started being called “the new Maradona” when he was 16 and ended up playing for Villareal. Another lesson learned.

Quando non servono le parole

Primo giorno da solo in casa dopo quasi 3 settimane di lavori con i miei splendidi operai ed un week-end da brividi con una persona che mi ha regalato quest'emozione discoidale.
Come non pensare che ha ragione lei quando dice che tornera' presto, molto presto ?
Glielo auguro. Io aspetto.

State bene cosí

Chi mi conosce sa che cerco di tenermi il piú possibile lontano dal turpiloquio al quale so dedicarmi in occasioni tanto rare quanto epocali.
Per questa ragione spero di non offendere la sensibilitá dei 4 lettori (cosí facciamo contenta pure la quinta lettrice) che passano di sfuggita qua sopra.
Giorni fa mentre pennellavo, tiravo su tavole, giravo viti e buttavo cartoni nell’ambito dei lavori di italianizzazione dell mia nuova casa mi veniva in mente questa considerazione.
Premettendo che l’unico modo che io e il parentame sparso tra le quattro mura avevamo di tenerci aggiornati erano gli SMS mandatici dall’Italia (a tal proposito ringrazio la sesta lettrice di questo blog – ma di lei mi occuperó in seguito) e quindi l’impressione che ho tutt’ora e’ alquanto rarefatta, pensavo al seguente concetto.

Fermo restando che chi vota per il centro-sinistra e’ “coglione” (che questi siano in numero paro o disparo cambia di poco la questione), pensavo che il numero delle “teste di cazzo” in Italia fosse quantomeno la metá. Invece cosí non e’. Qui qualcosa non quadra.
Comunque la mia conclusione e’ come da titolo.

Per il resto tutto bene. La nuova casa si sta rifacendo il trucco grazie soprattutto ai due lavoranti e consanguinei senza cui tutto questo non sarebbe stato altro che un sogno. Riavró internet fra poco meno di due settimane ma nel frattempo sono giá contento di poter dormire nel mio letto. Davvero tutto mio.

Bang, missed, gone...

See you in a week or so. Sad to leave, happy to get there.
Try not to miss me. Hit me if you can.

Bits & pieces e altro ancora

As promised: life has changed and I think it's done it for good this time. I mentioned I got the keys to my new home yesterday and it feels kind of weird to know that that place is mine and I can paint it all black or purple if I want to.
Ok maybe I won't do it but, still, owning something that stands, doesn't move, doesn't talk too much, doesn't want me to listen to what it says and stuff like that is something I have never done before. Never.
I feel too rational today so I reckon I won't be able to explain anything more than that; numbers flow in my mind and time is not really on my side as I have to organize my removal as soon as possible and other minor things that cause minor problem that create major issues and so on...
For now I can say that you learn to enjoy life a bit more when you have a mortgage to pay...

My day went on very well as I had to rush to see Depeche Mode at the Wembley Arena. I promised myself I wouldn't write a report this time as it was a gift I bought to myself a few months ago, so I just enjoyed the show and, believe it or not, it was one of the most amazing gigs I have ever been to.
Even though now I am dying to let everyone know how unique a DM show in London is, I woulndn't have the time to write an article about that, so I will spare the world (yeah..right !) the details of a terrific happening, of thousands of people whispering "Shake The Disease", of grown-up ladies moved to tears as "Enjoy The Silence" found its way through the crowd, of me watching a piece of history shine on a relatively simple stage. Too much to describe.
I am happy to say that eveyone was greeted into the Arena with a form that has to be filled up and sent to the promoter in order to get a free book about the evening. History.

Per finire: ecco la recensione dell'ultimo degli Atreyu. Un dischetto non male che ha il solo difetto di essere peggiore del precedente. Come ho scritto su Kronic non so cosa sia successo ma per un po' non sono riuscito a staccarmi da "The Curse" seppur riconosca che fosse robetta per adolescenti ma, ancora una volta, non me ne puo fregare di meno: mi gasava guidare sulla M4 con "Bleeding Mascara" nelle orecchie. Altra storia.

Keys !

And now it's Depeche Mode time...

La fine del fine settimana

Non mi piace quasi mai scrivere di album che apprezzo perché non so come fare per mettermi nei panni di chi quell' album non l' ha ancora ascoltato. Se un disco mi piace e’ perché l’ho sentito una miriade di volte in un lasso piú o meno corto di tempo; quindi l’impresa si fa pure piú ardua.

Venendo a noi: ho finalmente recensito il debutto dei Wolfmother. Per me e’ uno dei dischi dell’anno con buona pace di tutta la roba davvero innovativa che il piú delle volte apprezzo e di cui non riesco a fare a meno. A volte ci vuole un sano deja-vu per farti capire dove stai andando. Comunque ecco la recensione.

Stesso discorso come sopra: scrivere di concerti che mi coinvolgono particolarmente non e’ per nulla semplice e sono sicuro di non riuscirci neanche un granché bene. Comunque qui potete trovare il mio report sul concerto Will Haven/Crowbar di cui parlo qualche post piú sotto.

Bei tempi quelli. Una settimana fa e sembra passato un mese.

Domani forse la mia vita cambia all’improvviso. Ma ne parliamo domani.