FERRO BATTUTO

Choosing a bit blindly between Franco Battiato's later works, I fell upon this one with a correct (even engaging artwork) and maybe an interesting concept and certainly a good play on word: Ferro Battuto (close Franco Battiato) meaning beaten or forged irons. Alas, there was no miracle as this record is an atrocious waste of time and money (even if I rented it), and it sure looks like the same can be expected of many of his then contemporaneous works.

This album is a feeble and twee version of some of his older ideas, sounding like a new age version of the Pet Shop Boys. Yyyuuuuccckkkk!!!!... Right??? Indeed so, totally so!!! And Franco Battiato's version of Hey Joe (which had sort of helped choose between the three albums I was hesitating on) must be the worst piece of feeble and twee junk with the worst possible chorus line repeated endlessly. There are a few names among the guests like Natacha Atlas or Jim Kerr, but it is precisely these names that give the whole schmuck album a real stinking foul stench.

Just as I had done last week with Sorrenti's Fliglie Delle Stelle, I transferred a wrong choice into a helpful review, thus sparing me on finding which album I would have to find to rate