GRUPPO FONICO LOCALE

GRUPPO FONICO LOCALE


Legend and truth



Most of those who read these lines, we know "the times that Berta spinning" means for them each note would be useless because they know - we - things that not even remember ourselves.
But for the remaining 60 million Americans have never seen or heard? And for the one billion and half of Chinese? And for the billion Indians (those without pens)? These lines are most for them, so they have to learn and know who he is, what it does, what does the noise Local Group SpA, GFL acronym - SpA.

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The Legend

From the "Saga of brotherhood World" --


We are from "International", the third planet of the sun of Galaxy Marcingout; we are children of human and mother at the time of the second intergalactic conflict, when King Silviano I also conquered the suburbs of big cloud of Cygnus, we were born to a few cycles astral.
The invasion of prosti-machines (which was then called soldiers of the well), took the World totally unprepared: our ancient and noble people, when they were first projected holograms of Prosti - cars, ceased to combat fascinated by the attributes soldiers of good and remained a prisoner of psycho-vanguards of Silviano I. Nothing was known, at that time, substances ipersiliconiche developed by scientists of Plasticon (the planet original Silviano) and their effects erotoavvolgenti.
The World Civilization crashed in a few years, and only some Mondesi, insensitive to Prosti - cars because eterosoddisfatti, save and took refuge in the dense forests of subtropical band of the planet, where even the satellite communications were hampered by the nature radiorepellente leaves of the forest . That is why the survivors called the inextricable thicket "Forest Mother."
Protected dall'insuperabile barrier Forest Mother, the few Mondesi recuperarono and rielaborarono their most ancient traditions, among which also orami known and forgotten power of thinking.
Some Mondesi, sent in exploration in areas falling in the hands of Silviano, fell prisoners of prosti - cars and were tortured at length with the most sophisticated systems of psycho-conviction (were forced to attend, for days, shaking mammellare oloprodotto of enemy soldiers, while being given to them directly into a vein concentrate Argaiv - that Silviano used to read the contrary).
Some, unfortunately, died; few others managed to flee and found refuge once again in the Forest Mother.
They were to tell their stories which later formed the central body of "Saga World", sung by the Group local noise with the title of "Brothers in the Blues."
E 'by those few heroes who rinacque our current civilization, as we know today.
But those times dark and cruel could return if only rinunciassimo once again to use our brains.
That is why the World History and the saga of brotherhood should not be forgotten.
And it is always why, today, on World we are still all brothers.

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HISTORICAL RECONSTRUCTION


If talking was the last Androide of Blade Runner, the statement would start like this:
"I have seen myself with things that you humans can not even imagine…."
Indeed, dear, the Group Sound Business has seen the recent fires dell'Hard Rock, then saw punk guitarists unlikely to grips with equally improbable executions, then we saw bury the guitars and playing only keyboards, and then riesumare the guitars and bury the keyboards, and yet we saw people who first sang and then was put to speak, and then people who spoke, get to sing, then someone who ragliava, and then one that sussurrava "flower in May and another who shouted" I want to see you enjoy "we saw guitarists play with the volume to 1, not so much that he felt nothing and others who were merge the cones because the amplifier were three rounds of manetta Master; one that sputava on the public; another that has never learned a cock, stating theorems philosophical…….
Be ', I assure you that in a similar zibaldone is not easy to move.
Who - legitimately - asks us where we'll place not know what to respond. And believe, is not a way to call out to define itself, as a consequence, the original… it is true that in the end we are all inevitably the product of everything we have seen and heard.
Believe that perhaps there is someone who can make a speech, write a song, compose music or make a painting or even expose an idea that is completely new and free of things never heard or seen before? And 'obviously impossible.
We, however, the guitars do not we ever buried.
And even the brain (only sometimes watered).
And we finally realized that playing is something that should give immediate satisfaction… .. us if what we say and noise that issue (ehm ehm), some transmit pulse for you, bè, it can only make us great pleasure.
As for who we disistima… .. a laugh bury him.

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Are you interested in knowing who we are?
Probably there cares a cock but if we dedicated three minutes, take our song and listen at high volume…. Fonici you'll become even local.
Try for once to hear with your ears and to develop with your brain.
Sbattetevene of those who go for more: usually are misfits, heads minchia, selfish and children of autorefenziali whore.
Take our song and think what you want.
The song just wanted to tell you that thing there.

FABIO RUDY AZZIMARRO TRAVE SPACCAMONTAGNE are guitarist and singer; I sbatto of divismo, are not beautiful but very intelligent, almost like a hen and not to live sound. A true pacchia. What cock I care?
GHILLO GALLI LORENZO SCOTT: guitarist and singer; are able to stop a maximum apecar launched with a handful; are less intelligent Trave (I understand almost like a pheasant) and not to live sound. A true orgia. What cock I care?
LUCIO GUZZO BUSSO SGARBAGNATICO: sound down and do the choruses. They do only when it seems to me to live and not sound. Fischio very well and occasionally take the shock. I like the thing that women have and everything else, to tell the truth, that cock I care?
NINO NANO GRAZIOSO GRAZIANO: percuoto drums on a semiprofessional; are intelligent and beautiful as a turkey and do exactly what I think. Ever.
I like the tortellini in broth that makes the grandmother of Ghillo but if he eats them almost all. It 'a real cochlea. But to me, that cock I care?


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