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martedì 23 dicembre 2025

La mia Recensione: The Pogues (Featuring Kirsty MacColl) Fairytale of New York






 The Pogues - Fairytale of New York


Ci sono ricorrenze che avanzano, si mostrano, hanno dei desideri e già tutto questo farebbe pensare alla fortuna…

Poi vi sono cuori più profondi, attenti, che passano, in silenziosa parata, a perlustrare quei lati dell’esistenza senza fari. Non sono favole, poesie e tantomeno dei bei sogni, bensì il pavimento di rapporti in difficoltà, in cui la precarietà fa bruciare la pelle del cuore, e non solo.

In quei luoghi gli stenti, le lacrime, i disagi e le ambasce sono un abbraccio poco voluto ma esistente. E chi ci mette lo sguardo ha la saggezza dell’intimità giudiziosa, in generosa empatia e solidarietà. Il Natale è ormai una festività corrotta e va corretta con canzoni come questa, che per il Vecchio Scriba è l’unica che mostra davvero interesse per vicende che sono terremoti e che vengono, disgraziatamente, nascoste sotto gli addobbi, le luci e il chiasso di gente senza rispetto nei confronti di chi invece ha un autobus pieno di strazianti e complesse tragedie.


Ma anche da un litigio può nascere un arcobaleno a irradiare la corteccia cerebrale di nuove panoramiche visive.

Sia benedetta la modalità del duetto narrativo, di una melodia folk irlandese, della valigia e della visione di strade strette, senza cielo, a New York. Un pianoforte e una tastiera sono i semi di un prato immaginifico che pian piano copre la storia di dolcezza e malinconia, in un teatro punk dentro una pellicola cinematografica, mentre perlustra lati umani che paiono banditi in cerca di una resa…

L’epica e la nostalgia compiono passi di valzer mentre la band prende Shane e Kirsty e li mette uno di fronte all’altro sul ring, in un match di pugilato nel quale nessuno getta la spugna sino a quando il clima non conosce la ragione per modificare il tutto.

Il brano ha un’alternanza micidiale, su piani emotivi e razionali, e pure musicali, che induce alle riflessioni ma solo come successione a lacrime, emozioni e urla lanciate tutte sul vento di un dramma che illumina anche chi è avaro di tutto ciò: eccovi il vero miracolo di Natale…

I contrasti trovano spazio nei nuovi sogni e nelle delusioni che il testo riassume ma con garbata gentilezza, pur non mancando anche espressioni volgari, tuttavia necessarie.



La sincerità in musica non può avere il bavaglio e FONY lo dimostra pienamente, senza indugi.

Tutto parte da una prigione, con l’alcol a segnare il respiro del protagonista (MacGowan), qui con l’unica voce che sembra far apparire davanti ai nostri occhi ettolitri di amarezze e sogni.

E, mentre ascolta un vecchio brano (The Rare Old Mountain), la tristezza della memoria si condensa, straziandolo, con l’amore per una donna che ricompare, scatenando l’ardore di un sentimento mai sopito. I due battagliano, lottano, mettono barriere sino a quando la resa arriva grazie ai sogni di lui, mai pronto a rinunziare a chi gli fa battere forte il cuore e che dimentica i problemi e va oltre.

Nell’autodistruzione amorosa vi sono petali e raggi che si muovono tra bestemmie e insulti, ma con il progetto di silenziare il tutto.

Ecco che la disillusione del sogno americano trova i suoi confini, i limiti e il pressappochismo di una democrazia che ha causato nuove povertà. Per risolvere questo problema non rimane che l’amore, che unisce.



Nei ricordi l’Irlanda diventa un balcone, un bisogno di panorami mai inquinati, dove ogni cosa scorre senza  gli inganni della modernità. Non è un caso che molti suoi cittadini negli anni Ottanta siano andati negli States sbagliando il momento: Reagan stava distruggendo senza impedimenti e la profonda umanità di questi nuovi emigranti trovava, improvvisamente, un semaforo rosso, un calcio ai sogni, subendo una serie di mortificazioni tremende, finendo in una gabbia inimmaginabile.

In tutto questo la composizione riesce a far compiere alla nostra visione dei fatti raccontati un’analisi dettagliata di chi, in una guerra non vista e mai evidenziata, si trova tra alcol, rabbia e la consolazione di amori impossibili…



La voce rauca e alienata, piena di nebbia e brividi di Shane, ci porta nei canali di una mente sensibile e quindi vulnerabile, con ampie falcate nelle pareti di desideri a cui a fatica riesce a obiettare. In questa stupefacente credibilità, lo affianca una fata con le gote arrossate (come la sua ugola) che scalcia e dichiara guerra al suo amato. Un duetto/duello che esplora la fiumana di differenze tra il cantante nato a Pembury e poi divenuto irlandese e la ragazza di Croydon, trasportati come per non magia in un luogo distante dalle loro radici. La canzone assembla tutto con meticolosità, puntando i fari dell’energetica pulsione Celtic Rock di una formazione che, partendo da basi storiche conclamate, sa aggiungere novità a un matrimonio che si rivela perfetto. Si danza, lentamente prima (abbracciati) e poi velocemente, come in uno scalmanato rituale fisico che contempla lo spostamento e la distribuzione di un sudore vero.

Ed ecco l’evidente opposizione al Natale, come un libro di saggistica non contemplato, ma ritenuto dagli artisti in questione assolutamente necessario. Apparentemente leggera, la composizione è una delicata operazione chirurgica, un valore aggiunto inaspettato, un insieme di linguaggi da strada, di chi nel niente ha un tutto da improvvisare e un nulla da perdere…


I Pogues offrono la mano, una coperta per fare della speranza e dello scambio dei doni una possibilità di arricchimento, che non passa attraverso la mediocrità di regali, i quali sono possibili solo per chi ha avuto fortune e capacità che non gravitano di certo nella strada di coloro che la povertà la vivono con tutti i suoi shock.

Fairytale of New York è una ciminiera, un porto del cuore, un sussulto, con la capacità innegabile di fare della canzone un riscatto, un progetto, un ricordo, un bacio, una bevuta infinita con chilometri di battiti piovigginosi, un delirio silente nella dinamica di armonie musicali che, tra muscoli e carezze, riesce a far planare un racconto che fa del mondo tenuto segregato un paradiso dove la dignità non viene misurata con la ricchezza, la posizione sociale e l’arroganza del dominio, e in cui l’unica, discutibile, sete, è quella del potere e non quella di una sana Guinness…


Il testo fa sentire la schiuma di un’escoriazione causata da una caduta (fisica e morale), per poi disinfettare il tutto e ristabilire equilibrio e forza. Molto più di una metafora, questo episodio passa attraverso realtà, mitologia, tradizioni antiche per dare al cuore irlandese una bandiera che sventola e che sempre lo farà con una fierezza indiscutibile. Quando offre al passato la possibilità di consolare, non smette di creare il presente e nuovi ricordi, confezionando perfettamente la vera identità della terra del trifoglio.

E, quando allude al gioco d’azzardo (per poter cambiare le sorti dei protagonisti) si nota che nel baratro avanzano ancora scelte criticabili ma necessarie. Ed è apoteosi: passa attraverso una ingenuità che diventa poesia, una forma altissima di ironia, con petali amari che cadono nel cuore della vicenda… 

Quando la città della mela si mostra inospitale e crudele con chi non ha la fortuna sulle spalle, ecco che il testo sfodera un’amara constatazione che diviene, però, motivo di forza e di distinzione di un’identità che non teme di evidenziare le differenze. 

Viene voglia di spogliarsi, di andare a Dublino e dintorni, di avere un sacco di iuta vuoto e la propensione a metterci dentro i visi e le storie di chi, in questo brano, ci ha fatto piangere e sentire orgogliosi di voler raggiungere una nuova meta… 


Alex Dematteis (Vecchio Scriba)

Musicshockworld

Salford

24 12 2025






My Review : The Pogues (Featuring Kirsty MacColl) Fairytale of New York

 




The Pogues - Fairytale of New York


There are anniversaries that advance, reveal themselves, have desires, and all this would already suggest good fortune...

Then there are deeper, more attentive hearts that pass by, in silent parade, to explore those sides of existence without headlights. These are not fairy tales, poems, or even beautiful dreams, but rather the foundation of troubled relationships, where precariousness burns the skin of the heart, and more.

In those places, hardship, tears, discomfort, and anguish are an unwanted but ever-present embrace. And those who look upon them have the wisdom of judicious intimacy, in generous empathy and solidarity. Christmas has become a corrupt holiday and needs to be corrected with songs like this one, which for the Old Scribe is the only one that truly shows interest in events that are earth-shattering and which are, unfortunately, hidden under the decorations, lights and noise of people who have no respect for those who instead have a bus full of heartbreaking and complex tragedies.


But even an argument can give rise to a rainbow that illuminates the cerebral cortex with new visual perspectives.

Blessed be the narrative duet, the Irish folk melody, the suitcase and the vision of narrow, sky-less streets in New York. A piano and a keyboard are the seeds of an imaginative meadow that slowly covers the story of sweetness and melancholy, in a punk theatre inside a film, while exploring human sides that seem like bandits in search of surrender...

Epic and nostalgia take waltz steps as the band takes Shane and Kirsty and puts them face to face in the ring, in a boxing match in which no one throws in the towel until the climate knows the reason to change everything.

The song has a deadly alternation, on emotional and rational levels, as well as musical ones, which leads to reflection but only as a succession of tears, emotions and screams thrown into the wind of a drama that illuminates even those who are stingy with all of this: here is the true miracle of Christmas...

Contrasts find space in the new dreams and disappointments that the lyrics summarise, but with gentle kindness, while not lacking vulgar expressions, which are nevertheless necessary.


Sincerity in music cannot be silenced, and FONY proves this fully, without hesitation.

It all starts in a prison, with alcohol marking the breath of the protagonist (MacGowan), here with the only voice that seems to bring before our eyes one hundred litres of bitterness and dreams.

And, while listening to an old song (The Rare Old Mountain), the sadness of memory condenses, tormenting him, with the love for a woman who reappears, unleashing the ardour of a feeling that has never been dormant. The two battle, struggle, put up barriers until surrender comes thanks to his dreams, never ready to give up on the one who makes his heart beat fast and who forgets his problems and moves on.

In the self-destruction of love, there are petals and rays that move between curses and insults, but with the intention of silencing everything.

Here, the disillusionment of the American dream finds its boundaries, the limits and the sloppiness of a democracy that has caused new poverty. To solve this problem, all that remains is love, which unites.


In memories, Ireland becomes a balcony, a need for unspoilt views, where everything flows without the deception of modernity. It is no coincidence that many of its citizens went to the United States in the 1980s at the wrong time: Reagan was destroying without hindrance and the profound humanity of these new emigrants suddenly found itself facing a red light, a kick in the teeth to their dreams, suffering a series of terrible humiliations and ending up in an unimaginable cage.

In all this, the composition manages to give our vision of the events recounted in a detailed analysis of those who, in a war unseen and never highlighted, find themselves between alcohol, anger and the consolation of impossible loves...


Shane's hoarse, alienated voice, full of fog and shivers, takes us into the channels of a sensitive and therefore vulnerable mind, with wide strides into the walls of desires that he struggles to resist. In this astonishing credibility, he is accompanied by a fairy with red cheeks (like his voice) who kicks and declares war on her beloved. A duet/duel that explores the flood of differences between the singer born in Pembury and then became Irish and the girl from Croydon, transported as if by magic to a place far from their roots. The song meticulously brings everything together, spotlighting the energetic Celtic rock drive of a band that, starting from well-established historical foundations, knows how to add something new to a marriage that proves to be perfect. They dance, slowly at first (embracing) and then quickly, as if in a rowdy physical ritual that involves movement and the distribution of real sweat.

And here is the obvious opposition to Christmas, like a non-fiction book that is not contemplated but considered absolutely necessary by the artists in question. Seemingly light, the composition is a delicate surgical operation, an unexpected added value, a combination of street languages, of those who have nothing to improvise and nothing to lose...


The Pogues offer a helping hand, a blanket to make hope and the exchange of gifts a chance for enrichment, which does not pass through the mediocrity of gifts, which are only possible for those who have had fortunes and abilities that certainly do not gravitate towards those who experience poverty with all its shocks.

Fairytale of New York is a chimney, a harbour of the heart, a gasp, with the undeniable ability to turn the song into redemption, a project, a memory, a kiss, an endless drink with miles of drizzly beats, a silent delirium in the dynamics of musical harmonies which, between muscles and caresses, manages to glide through a story that makes the segregated world a paradise where dignity is not measured by wealth, social position and the arrogance of domination, and where the only, questionable thirst is that of power and not that of a healthy Guinness...


The text evokes the sting of an abrasion caused by a fall (both physical and moral), then disinfects the wound and restores balance and strength. Much more than a metaphor, this episode passes through reality, mythology and ancient traditions to give the Irish heart a flag that flies and will always fly with unquestionable pride. When it offers the past the chance to console, it never stops creating the present and new memories, perfectly encapsulating the true identity of the land of the shamrock.

And when it alludes to gambling (in order to change the protagonists' fortunes), we see that in the abyss, questionable but necessary choices still lie ahead. And it is apotheosis: it passes through a naivety that becomes poetry, a very high form of irony, with bitter petals falling into the heart of the story... 

When the city of apples shows itself to be inhospitable and cruel to those who are not lucky, the text reveals a bitter observation that becomes, however, a source of strength and distinction for an identity that is not afraid to highlight differences. 

It makes you want to strip down, go to Dublin and its surroundings, have an empty jute bag and the inclination to put in it the faces and stories of those who, in this song, made us cry and feel proud to want to reach a new goal... 


Alex Dematteis (Vecchio Scriba)

Musicshockworld

Salford

24 12 2025












giovedì 18 dicembre 2025

My Review: IAMTHESHADOW - So long, Lost


 

Iamtheshadow - So long, Lost


An inevitable form of seduction gravitates in the womb of a musician so pregnant with explorations, specifications, mental advances into the realm of mystery and its tangles, educating his compositional growth to reach the highest depths, conquering the listener and rendering them speechless.

Pedro Code with his IAMTHESHADOW (which includes the moving and talented Vitor J. Moreira) relies this time on the search for new sounds, focusing with analogue synths and analogue rhythm machines to electrify his visual perimeter in a different way.

The performance confirms his rising talent, while the shadowy areas (typical and essential) are further hypnotised and frozen in this ballroom where the protagonist struggles to survive.

The result is a wave that descends from the Serra de Sintra to connect the description of mental struggles to the impoverished surroundings.


Pedro sings with a lump in his throat, digging into his sensual low register, making friends with synthesizers to lull us with long sound waves.

The new look, with an attitude that projects the band towards a more robust muscular form, definitively confirms the need not to rest on their laurels: the song surpasses the long history of the Lisbon band and positions itself as an indicator for the new album to be released in 2026.

Old Writer is also struck by the lyrics: a mourning that encompasses people, faith, dreams, pain and struggles.

There is no surrender, but rather an honest and sweet sadness that underlines the inevitable human decline. Pedro forces us to close our eyes and alert our conscience so that it does not fall dormant.

This single resembles the only serious Christmas gift we could receive this year: where what is celebrated is something real, concrete, terribly human.

We dance with our backs bent but drunk with joy: the duo never ceases to amaze us and to lead us forward into the realm of pain that teaches us how to live...


Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld 

Salford

19 - 12 - 2025


https://open.spotify.com/track/1Q9avdByMeDaD1ayzpLrhC?si=8xMM-HojTBKRJOBs_3RYBQ


https://music.apple.com/gb/album/so-long-lost/1860986751?i=1860986758



lunedì 8 dicembre 2025

My Review - Iamnoone - melancholia


 Iamnoone - melancholia

Iamnoone - Melancholia


There is a contemplative planet that collects and welcomes and never discards, preferring to let situations mature and find the right moment to dress them up and put them out on the streets of the world.

This is the case with these six songs by Iamnoone, written during the period of 'the joy of sorrow', which, once established in our ears, develop a visual possibility that connects with other artistic modalities, revealing a sweetness, a richness made of simplicity dense with legacies, because in the end they are like 'thousand letters' around, able to reach their destination leaving messages, souls in turmoil, stories and an evident spirituality within reach of an intimate but spacious dance.


The night, a place often experienced, mentioned and explored by the duo in compositions designed to warm the heart, finds here a reserve that does not melt away with repeated listening, giving the six compositions a mysterious, intense and enchanting veil.

The 1980s, with Italy Disco Dance and velvety minimal wave pieces, flow through the grooves like temporal embraces, like bundles of grass seeking an embrace.


The perfect production offers the possibility of experiencing a long piece with six branches, surrounding the environment of reality and leading it into an aesthetic and predominant ability to combine it with dreamlike aspects.

In all this, the lowest common denominator is memory, with its flights, dives, journeys, and the unquestionable desire to protect the meaning of life, reproducing flavours, tastes, effervescence and, ultimately, a nourishing melancholy rather than a trap...


Seth and Philip inhabit life as an update of beauty and wealth, leaving traces of wonder in their every movement.

An EP that is ultimately a mnemonic and photographic album, inclined towards the black and white of the soul without any shame, giving us a free breath to live in the nocturnal warmth of attentive souls…


Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

8-12-2025


https://iamnoone1.bandcamp.com/album/melancholia



domenica 30 novembre 2025

My Review: Black Swan Lane - the messenger


 


Black Swan Lane - the messenger

By Alex Dematteis


The return.

Courage, the need to establish a new presence, should be analysed with the utmost care when it comes from a network of metal cables with a silk core, like that of a messenger of time who knows no rest.

Two years after Dead Souls Collide, we find ourselves combining ecstasy and tension, joy with the duty to incorporate masses of research and reflection, without having to discard anything.


Contact, the need to clarify, the efforts to be made, any form of God to be considered, the messages of the mind to be established, the escapes, the anger, the sky in free fall, the ghosts, the crashes, the games of the heart, the panic, the hatred and the weapons.  This and much more enters the real and artistic world of a man who walks through time sowing petals of resistance and proactive approaches, immersing everything in his reservoir where dark colours are not pessimism, but rather a congenial way to preserve authenticity and honesty and develop solutions, using lyrics and music not as an outlet but rather an exploration aimed at clarifying the image in the mirror of his conscience.

Jack Richard Sobel's compositions have different effects on the heart and mind, and the generous Atlanta artist's twelfth album confirms this, with new solutions, experimentation, and an innate gift for not getting lost in frills, in the pursuit of success and other unhealthy forms of expression. He embodies his journey in a collection of songs and lets his unique voice and tracks take us into his hemisphere to silently celebrate this new contact.

Once again, this is an album with themes that are not easy to accept for those who are distracted by music and life. Jack reiterates his concepts, but he has learned to give new wings to his fingers, astonishing us with stylistic solutions and phenomenal ballistic choices such as falsetto singing. He has always favoured a melancholic touch, but, as with his last three albums, he manages to raise his voice, to shout, to shake things up. Kindness wins out, accompanied by a clear and robust moral code, with the beloved 80s and 90s protecting, albeit only partially, his love of songwriting. 

Always attentive to production, the songs, compared to his other works, seem more mature, reflective, almost like hypnosis that reaches others from the mind. There is nothing to celebrate in life except a healthy anger aimed at making the world a different place. So he creates symbolic characters and phrases that are not meant to win people over, but rather to illuminate the truth with wisdom.


The feeling one gets is that of a work that makes the human experience a wake-up call, using sounds, rhythm and melody as messages seeking attention that involves responsibility and not just well-being, distractions and entertainment.

The Messenger engages the soul, taking us into the deep sensitivity of a fragment dressed in music.

We find ourselves in the mood of a man who, through the alternative and rock duo, indulges in excursions into shoegaze as well as post-punk, taking care to reaffirm his own style, which has been recognisable since the beginning. There are expansions, insights and variations, especially in terms of song form, which finds a greater desire for exploration in this work.


As we are accustomed to hearing, it is the guitars that create compasses, reservoirs of emotion, illuminating the sound, turning noise into poetry and translating the thoughtful beats of the man from Atlanta, who once again improves his singing by interpreting each song in just the right way, creating the perfect combination of different expressive possibilities.


Beauty has always worn flames, screeches and melancholic nettles to seal songs, catharsis and emotional tensions, gathered with the intention of offering the listener respect for an artistic activity that is more difficult to practise and sustain nowadays. The dark side and the less heavy side finally find an armistice through a mass of melodies that seem to suggest the sun as their goal, while lava and tidal waves are ever-present at their core...


It is nothing more than a novel made up of notes, splendid hooks, tangles, leaps and dreams, never lacking the desire to confront reality.

Once again, Jack takes charge of all the instruments, clearly giving each of them a function that is both individual and collective, taking his bass playing skills to very high levels. The piano and keyboard are painters in great form, and the drums, his favourite artistic medium, seem to run through his entire career across twelve tracks. It is an eighteen-year seam that permeates time with constant value.


There are references to works such as A Moment of Happiness or The Last Time in Your Light, not as a lack of commitment or inspiration, but for a healthy use of certain structures that give the new compositions a solid framework. But never before, as in The Messenger, have we witnessed smoothing, new directions, branches, sudden changes of rhythm.

The voice is a package sent from his head to the world, a spark of dynamite that contemplates tenderness imbued with a healthy procession composed of the fluctuating vigour of melancholy, a faithful travelling companion, generating tears as a consequence, second after second. But it is a sensual, true, unfiltered friend: round, full, magical and infinite...


A work that decisively takes the path of American stratification, abandoning (perhaps unconsciously) the direct line with European alchemy. The result is a remarkable freshness, ideas that make everything fresh and intense, demonstrating that he has achieved independence with his indisputable ability to work on himself.


It is the images and the careful choice of words that constitute an enchanting torment, a pleasant stroll through the soul of a man who decides to confide, to reveal his concerns, to be an intimate star in the sea of daily violence. Certain passages are imposing, relevant, while others are, in fact, messengers of what tends to be hidden. His most authentic, attentive, profound album, meticulously crafted.


It is worth noting the significant reduction in loops, allowing the instruments greater freedom of movement, creating intense masses of aggregation, demonstrating a desire to work on dynamics, enabling the production to express different objectives. And so we find ourselves faced with a refined, delicate work, with important themes that are developed as if the musical notes were also arguments, allowing for a fruitful agglomeration.


It is rock, it is poetry, a self-certification of absolute autonomy, in which freedom is being able to work hard, in which everything makes a difference, in which the sum of the details improves the meaning and specifies it. In these tracks we have storms, rain, the human desert that highlights aridity, humble pleas for respect and dialogue, where war is expelled and where musical wisdom consists of the balance of the individual parts. Once again, Jack entrusts the primary aspect to the musical lexicon, as if his voice and words could rest. 


He addresses his listeners informally, surprising them with his openness to human contact and using new ways to make his music the garden of his home. His style remains recognisable, offering us a safe haven, but in this twelfth album he puts us on a velodrome and leads us into the waves of the sky. This explains the inevitable presence of Shoegaze, which allows the trails to penetrate more quickly. The dreamy aspect continues to surround his perimeter, but human maturation beautifully influences his abilities. And here is the new magic that makes listening a privilege, because never before has the need for welcome been felt as much as in this sad-winged fairy tale. Songs like invitations to dinner, like laughter waiting for the tension of the nerves to become, like an isolation that will come as a consequence because The Messenger is nothing more than a carpet of pearls, walking on which we can understand the skin of our soul...


Knowing how to transform frustration and concern into a commitment that brings common sense closer shows how much intensity has been used, how much meticulousness has gone into creating songs like planets, like stars, like horizons that change our gaze, to elevate artistic value to its maximum power and to make musical tracks a specific human space.


One cannot help but congratulate the choice of album cover, a spectacular snapshot by Jarek Kubicki, capable of combining painting and digital graphics, allowing the multidisciplinary artist to connect with Jack, suggesting, evoking, revealing the extraordinary imaginative power that sums up the concept of the album and at the same time allows the listener to approach it with curiosity, giving way to fascination for a sublime encounter between two arts.



Knowing how to transform frustration and concern into a commitment that brings common sense closer shows how much intensity has been used, how much meticulousness has gone into creating songs like planets, like stars, like horizons that change our gaze, to elevate artistic value to its maximum power and to make musical tracks a specific human space.


One cannot help but congratulate the choice of album cover, a spectacular snapshot by Jarek Kubicki, capable of combining painting and digital graphics, allowing the multidisciplinary artist to connect with Jack, suggesting, evoking, revealing the extraordinary imaginative power that sums up the concept of the album and at the same time allows the listener to approach it with curiosity, giving way to fascination for a sublime encounter between two arts.



Song by Song 


 Promise

It all begins with guitars and bass in a continuous whirl, a rock punch with a hoarse voice, ready to scream. A God taken by the ears, a dialogue that leads to the absence of prayer, while the harsh and scorching sound immediately disorientates the listener, introducing them perfectly to the world of the man from Atlanta. 



2 Crash

Love often becomes a demand, attention, preceding the crash. Shoegaze masterfully combines with noisy melancholy, imbued with a poetic resignation that allows the music to describe the mood, the inclination. In this way, we find ourselves in a sky suspended between echoes of the nineties and the freshness of eternal pain...



3 Drawing In Your Heart

Jack's powerful, magnetic, delicate and poignant falsetto immediately amazes, reinforced in the chorus by a second voice. The musical structure consists of a sound progression that sticks to the soul, with the fear of loneliness allowing us to resist and stay together. A powerful song, even if its delicacy could mislead the interpretation. The novelty of the singing style is not the only surprise, as the lyrics and musical range are the perfect evolution of a celestial body that encompasses everything...




4 Shockwave

With a beginning that takes us back to the splendid Under My Fallen Sky from 2017, everything lights up with iron and lightning in the first verse, which then returns later on. The whole becomes consciousness that welcomes the sky in free fall, with Alternative lacerations, Dreampop petals and immature rock to keep the adrenaline level high. And, while a body suffers and the world trembles, Jack dusts off his old love for a style that allows him to mix harmonic and rhythmic planes in perpetual contact, in a seductive alternation...


5 When I Sleep

One of the most engaging and disturbing moments on this album, featuring exquisite guitars, meticulous drumming that complements the bitter lyrics, and a full, warm, scratchy voice, like a modern music box that suspends everything in a sonic and emotional embrace...



6 The Devil's Hand

Victories, calls, death, days gone by: a frenetic, appropriate rhythm leads us into the epicentre of rock, between the effervescent rhythm (able to stop and resume its course), sinuous arpeggios and the feeling of full gravity, in free fall, with the dark side dominating and absorbing earthly souls.


7 Laces 

And it is goodness, the call for constructive and positive change, that illuminates this track, allowing Black Swan Lane's musical journey to reveal itself fully in these sweet minutes. The semi-acoustic aspect serves as an introduction, entrusting the guitars and a synth with the task of dominating the scene. Then come the bass beats, followed by the drumming, which heightens the sensation of flying through the universe. But the amazement does not end there: first, a piercing electric guitar (followed by one of Jack's very rare solos) leads us to shed warm tears, introducing us to a new mode of expression for JRS, which allows him to intoxicate us once again. We find ourselves on the second side of this work aware that more surprises are coming...



8 Waves Whisper Stay

Nature, which leads to the pairing with humankind, finds its setting in this dreamy expression, in which Jack's syncopated rhythm and short singing allow us to reach the catchy but never overly pop chorus, as it is not in the nature of this fertile and powerful artist to wink at banality. A scent of nostalgia runs through the music, while the lyrics show the absence of pain, as if apathy were an effective weapon, while the waves, both musical and marine, create perfect whirlpools that give us the sensation of a mnemonic and sensory flight...


9 The Messenger 

Powerful, bitter, energetic, reflective: the track that gives the album its title offers yet another different side to the songwriting, with its pauses, its scratchy sound, and the wonderful alternation of guitar movements. The voice shows its natural propensity for enchantment, while the clipped wings of the messenger angel reveal the centrality of the concept album. Simply perfect in its cathartic ability to make us feel and see the movements of the soul... 


10 Look At Me The Same

The planet of needs and clarity of intent seduce and encompass the natural propensity to create dreamy, rhythmic music, between shoegaze guitars and refined rock, with semi-acoustic guitar arpeggios and piano looking at each other, drawing us into a tender dance...


11 Flower Girl

Time, the moon, panic, a black vortex skilfully suspended here, with drumming that takes us back to ancient memories of the band, complete the musical mapping, offering us black and yellow rays, manifesting the need for love, which leads a couple to the possibility of a lunar landing...



12 Empty Desks

To conclude, Jack presents us with the apotheosis, the bitter sense of a cruel existence that seeks war and generates victims, despair and pain. To do so, he suspends the atmosphere, creates slow whirlwinds, uses the instruments sparingly to make everything seem like a caress in the conscience of the powerful who badly decide the fate of many souls. Then comes a vortex of elegant shoegaze atoms on which his voice rests, fuelling a delicate procession of enchanting tears swaying in the sky. The ending, as always for the American author, must be evocative and leave a memory, as well as the desire to listen again. And once again, he has hit the mark...


Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

1-12-2025


Black Swan Lane - Jack Richard Sobel / Music, Lyrics and all Instruments


Executive Producer / Frédéric Detrézien


Assistant Producer/

Steve Clare

Marco Oldenbuettel

J. Kevin Jewel

Alex Dematteis

David J. Griffith


Out on December 12 2025



































La mia Recensione: The Pogues (Featuring Kirsty MacColl) Fairytale of New York

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