writer has never been a big fan of Gucci, but it is basically known, especially with regard to his studio recordings. nevertheless for a month now I'm in love with a disc simply (and unexpected) exception, rooms of everyday life: a record that I do not think I ever impressed anyone except me. was at the release of this album had to Bertoncelli Guccini write as an artist over, that she had nothing to say.
now, look at the cost of radical chic, I rooms of everyday life seems a huge hard disk because it is a wonderful sull'apatia and have nothing to say. An album that speaks only of futility: uselessness in love, grow, over time that passes, poetry, youth. It 's a feeling of hopelessness that pervades all the tracks and even that does not generate anger boredom but, rather, of realizing that the most tragic thing of life is its smallness. Guccini Perhaps when he wrote it was really a broken man. Or maybe he just realized that we were all to be finished: and never really have even started.
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