Afterhours
Hai paura del buio?

THE REVIEW

Afterhours are one of the most loved/hated bands in the history of Italian music. Writing about them is almost suicidal: I can imagine how many comments might be written just out of prejudice. Indeed, the arrogance of the singer-guitarist Manuel Agnelli isn't negligible, but neither is the contribution they have managed to bring to the Italian scene with albums like this one. Their previous album, "Germi," the first in Italian and considered by many as the first real album of the Milanese group, presented mostly typical grunge sounds inspired by the Anglophone. In "Hai Paura Del Buio," they put all the cards on the table again. They free themselves from their role as a monolithic-sounding band by tending towards experimentation, ranging across the most varied genres: from hardcore to acoustic ballads, a few splashes of grunge, even branching into pop, and a lot of experimentation.
If I had to sum up this album in one word, it would be: distorted. Distorted is Manuel Agnelli's voice on the opening track "1.9.9.6.", (super)distorted are the guitars of the visionary Xabier Iriondo, the reality expressed in the lyrics is distorted. Manuel Agnelli ultimately extracts all the filth from his head and puts it on display, for sale to the general public. And this pleases, so much so that Afterhours become a national phenomenon when it seemed there was no longer any hope for them in the Italian musical landscape.
The Milanese formation, which for this album features for the first time the collaboration of Dario Ciffo on violin (a collaboration that will last more than 10 years), presents a track list that for enthusiasts is almost a best-of, and for everyone else is nevertheless a dream album, featuring a number of classics that many bands, during their career, only dream of.
The album, after the brief instrumental title track, opens with 1.9.9.6., an apparently naïve ballad in which Manuel Agnelli plays with his voice, transforming it and letting it freely say what it wants: for now, it's still the only album I hear opening with a blasphemy. After this bold beginning, we're catapulted into the fury of "Male di Miele," a symbolic song that combines anger, love, pain, and one of the best riffs of the last 20 years.
Continuing on, one could talk endlessly, how could we not discuss the disturbing "Rapace," or the sweet "Elymania," the lysergic "Senza Finestra," or the disarming (imagine a sort of infant lullaby after 40 minutes of noise!) "Come Vorrei."
Or I could tell you about my favorites, from the hardcore of "Dea" and "Lasciami Leccare l'Adrenalina," to the punk and irreverent atmosphere of "Sui giovani d'oggi ci scatarro su," the anger of "Veleno"; or, to do it justice, a bit of all 18 songs present.
Or I could tell you to listen to it because certain masterpieces never harm anyone by being listened to, even by those who already know them. Naturally, after all this diatribe about distortion and noise, you're surely expecting something of the kind. But no. Why? Because Afterhours manage to do pop just as well.