I was twelve years old, wearing a pair of torn Converse All Stars (because that’s what Dee Dee Ramone would’ve wanted), and every Saturday I’d hop on bus 105 to go to Disfunzioni Musicali.
For a Roman teenager with more pimples than pocket money, it was sacred ground. I’d skip snacks all week just to afford a 7-inch vinyl.
Hungry today, punk tomorrow.
There were no algorithms in that shop. There was Maurizio.
My friends and I called him Mr. Death, because whenever you brought back a record to trade in, he’d value it at roughly 1/100 of what you’d paid. In my twelve-year-old mind, he literally held the power of life and death: if he judged poorly, that was it — no new record that week. Period.
(PS: he’s still a pillar of Rome’s music scene today at his new shop, Transmission, in San Lorenzo.)
Maurizio would walk in with his briefcase, a slightly goofy stride (Monty Python would approve), and a musical memory that made Shazam look amateur. Sometimes he’d recommend a record that would change your life — Selected Ambient Works 85–92 by Aphex Twin, or Surfer Rosa by the Pixies. Other times you’d walk out with something utterly dreadful, bought solely because the cover art looked cool. Like Mad Butcher by Destruction.
But here’s the thing: even the mistakes were part of the experience.
Actually, they were the experience.
As Martin Soler wrote in an article I loved (“What You Shouldn’t Automate Might Matter More”): algorithms get it right maybe 20% of the time.
And we accept that.
But we would never tolerate that same success rate from a human being who actually knows us.
That’s the point.
Spotify is fine at 20%.
Maurizio hit 99% (Destruction aside — that one was on me).
Now bring that analogy into hospitality, and you’ll see the kind of industry I dream about: less algorithm-centric, more Maurizio-centric.
Because in the end, it’s up to us to decide how we shape the future of our sector.
See you next week,
SIMONE PUORTO
