Gloria The Last Time by Money Spinners: A Raw 1974 Italian Rock Gem That Kicks You in the Teeth
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—this album doesn’t mess around. Released back in ‘74 under Vogue Records, Gloria The Last Time is an unapologetic punch to the gut from Italy's own Money Spinners. And yeah, it’s got that raw rock edge you don’t hear much anymore. No overproduced nonsense here; just pure grit and attitude dripping off every track. Plus, shoutout to Sonia Delaunay for the killer artwork—it’s like someone threw paint at a wall while spinning on acid, but somehow it works.
Now, I’m not gonna lie—this isn’t some perfect masterpiece where everything aligns magically. But damn if “The Last Time” doesn’t stick with you like gum on your shoe. It opens with this grinding guitar riff that feels like your ears are being dragged through gravel. Then comes the vocals, raspy as hell, screaming about regrets or whatever. Honestly, who cares what he’s saying? The emotion hits hard enough to make you wanna smash something. This song ain’t subtle—it grabs you by the collar and shakes until you pay attention.
And then there’s “Gloria.” Oh man, this track flips the script entirely. Starts slow, almost dreamy, like you’re floating down some lazy river. But BAM! Outta nowhere, it slams into high gear with drums pounding so loud they might as well be inside your skull. By the time the chorus kicks in, you’re hooked. Something about how they scream “GLORIA!” makes you wanna climb onto your coffee table and belt it out yourself (don’t ask me why).
What really gets me though is how these two tracks feel worlds apart yet still fit together perfectly. One minute you’re headbanging like a lunatic, the next you’re swaying like you’re drunk at a wedding. It’s chaotic, sure, but that’s kinda the charm of it all.
So yeah, Gloria The Last Time may not have set the world on fire when it dropped, but screw trends—this thing has soul. Like, imagine finding a dusty old record in your grandpa’s attic and realizing it’s better than half the crap Spotify recommends. Weirdly satisfying.
Final thought? If you ever meet someone who says rock music died after the ‘60s, slap them upside the head and shove this album in their face. Or maybe don’t—I dunno, I’m no therapist.
