Abba
Arrival

THE REVIEW

Money, money, money: there's nothing wrong with wanting to get rich, but if enrichment is based on the debasement and degradation of what should be art, my patience starts to spin like a propeller. Let's take, for example, the latest "cool" music phenom of the moment that I had the displeasure of encountering—an expressionless witch-like figure with an outrageous bleached hairstyle à la R. Carrà, known as Lady Gaga (and for this alone, she should be cleaning toilets at the Central Station instead of topping the charts...). This isn't pop, this isn't light music: this stuff is as heavy as pig slop and as fake and artificial as Lilli Gruber's lower lip, and this criminal assault on my sense of beauty and style makes me turn off the TV in disgust and refresh my ears with something diametrically opposed. Thus, while that absurd Bulgarian trucker voice continues to echo in my brain, I begin to think of a melodious song, the nightingale voice of a blonde Swedish girl: without a second thought, I insert "Arrival" by ABBA into my CD player.

Listening, savoring every single note of this record has the same rejuvenating effect as a cool shower after a hot, sticky day: an album splendidly conceived without greedy authors and producers, focusing solely on the talent and intention to make Pop music, to entertain and amuse with style and grace, without unnecessary and ridiculous provocations. This was the mission of Anni-Frid, Benny, Bjorn, and the divine Agnetha (my favorite pop singer), even from an aesthetic perspective: a great example of how to be sexy without altering one's features, appearing nude and wet in tawdry music videos, or kissing men, women, dogs, and pigs. A mission much more difficult than one might think, but "Our People" accomplished it in the best possible way, especially in this album, led by singles like "Dancing Queen", "Knowing Me, Knowing You", and of course, "Money, Money, Money." But the magic of ABBA doesn't stop at these songs, which are rightly known in every corner of the globe, from Miami Beach to old Bombay: the magic of ABBA is the irresistibly mischievous crescendo of "When I Kissed The Teacher," the angelic innocence of "My Love, My Life," the hilarious intro and the overwhelming chorus of "Dum Dum Diddle," the rhythmic pop rock of "Tiger," the carefree beach vibe of "Happy Hawaii" and its derivative "Why Does It Have To Be Me?", and also the sonic experimentation of the title track "Arrival" that perhaps does not reach the perfection of the pop mini-symphony "Intermezzo No. 1" but remains a brilliant divertissement, with an atmosphere both majestic and relaxing, which delivers the final blow to my disgust and reconciles me with the world and all its creatures, including bleached witches.

You're very special, you're not a bit of a bore, you have the talent for a wonderful thing, ‘cos I will always listen when you start to sing, My dearest ABBA, thank you for the music, the songs you're singin', thanks for all the joy and the fun you bring me.