Their may be a for many insurmountable language barrier partitioning the masses from the music of melodramatic Italian maestro Paolo Conte, though personally I’ve never quite got why his innately inviting appeal has never garnered more critical acclaim here, beyond the lackadaisically monitored borders of his native Italia. That smoky croak; those quietly flamboyant melodies; those magnetising blues in which he cloaks himself in futile preservation from the chilling cold of solitude. He’s a wonder, and as such he (at least subjectively) merits deeper reverence, praise, and so forth. Thus it’s with a somewhat uncontainable glee that we’re able to eulogise a cover of his wilting classic, Chiamami Adesso from the otherwise dissatisfying L.A. songstress Julia Holter. Taking the smoking room lament and transforming it into what sounds a lo-fi rethink of Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, it’s beautifully executed, eloquently articulated, and emotively transposed into Holter’s most immediately convincing recording to date.
Dot Dot Dot
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