Fortunato Durutti Marinetti 
There’s a broken decadence to the new album from Fortunato Durutti Marinetti (nee Daniel Colussi). It’s a kind of shirt unbuttoned, staring out the window, smoke ring-halo, third bourbon feeling that’s hard to sum up, but can be felt through thick-tongued memories that grip the brain and body on a deep cellular level. Swaying, half Robert Wyatt, half Bunny Hoover, the songs on Memory’s Fool hang in the air — swaying and steadying themselves, but with a strange light in their eyes. The phrases may dangle like cigarettes from Colussi’s mouth, but as they tumble they turn somersaults before they land.
Like fellow verbose word weavers, Kevin Morby or Dan Bejar, the songs here careen across our being as if viewed through a lens. They shake and shudder, but never quite break out of the daydream daze that seems to drop the veil between Fortunato Durutti Marinetti’s and our own. Colussi’s a character carver, watching the fruit of his incantations navigate the world in darkness and daydream. The sonic palette is wide and wondrous as well, not just the words that drip from the speakers. With resplendent strings, buttoned-up woods, and patient piano, the album sways and swoons. Memory’s Fool seeks to get lost in eddies and alleyways and its well worth the wander to follow along as Colussi creates a shrouded odyssey that begs to be parsed again and again.
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