Alan Sorrenti
Aria

Italy, the producer of pseudo plagiarisms and works that have aged poorly? I hope you think that only because you are unaware of "Aria" by Alan Sorrenti. Ah, the one from "Tu Sei L'Unica Donna Per Me"? No, it's a different one. It's a bit like what happens in reincarnation: you live one life and then you'll live another. Often and willingly, from the prolific and original school of Naples, Pino Daniele, Bennato, and Massimo Ranieri are brought up, forgetting some geniuses who deserve more space: the Osanna of "Palepoli," the Balletto Di Bronzo of "YS," and Alan Sorrenti.

This latter is a very particular character, who came to national prominence showing the most frivolous and less committed side of his true potential. At the end of the Sixties and the beginning of the Seventies, there is a great atmosphere of tension mixed with creativity, both social and political. We have the first cries of the Italian protest responding to those overseas and the beginnings of some great bands on the music scene. It's not the nation of "Canzonissima" and "Sanremo, there's something more.

The avant-garde festivals and the gatherings of freaks at Parco Lambro are starting to appear. It's not just meaningless revelry and agitation among factions and egocentric youth. Great formations like PFM, Banco, and Le Orme are taking their first triumphant steps, but the underground undergrowth is also getting richer year after year, with little geniuses and some inglorious releases. The limitation of a certain Italian production is to have voices not up to par and instrumentalists who stop too much at mimicking various Vanilla Fudge, Cream, and Procol Harum.

However, the urge to create one's own identity is quite present, and great examples like "Aria" by Alan demonstrate it well. The young Neapolitan, brother of the divine Jane Sorrenti, singer of the prog folk group Saint Just, comes to the forefront in the Neapolitan environment. English and American records circulate a lot, they are the ones who created the term "rock," and in Italy, there is a sense of needing to create a fusion of all these foreign echoes. This sense of oppression is very well managed by Alan, who, in 1972, manages to produce a true miracle, immediately acclaimed by critics and the public. The latter, in those years, was truly attentive, especially the protest fringes, who were ready to boo a so-called "poser" or "fake comrade."

Alan of this period is an image far removed from the easy consensus of "Figli Delle Stelle," and only the problem of inspiration would manage to erase that. Already from the second album "Come Un Vecchio Incensiere All'Alba Di Un Villaggio Deserto," from 1973, the copy and paste of the soundscape generated in "Aria" is felt. Do you know Tim Buckley of "Starsailor," Robert Wyatt of "Rock Bottom," and Peter Hammill of Van Der Graaf Generator? Well, exactly that stuff there. So, either you have a flair capable of building a career at least a decade long, or after one album you risk disappearing.

The "sadly obligatory" abandonment of coherence is the cause of the decline of this beautiful voice and its unparalleled high peaks. "Aria," the title track, is absolutely the pinnacle of vocal expressiveness in Italian music in general, along with Francesco Di Giacomo (Banco) and Demetrio Stratos (Area). Imagine a young freak who spends time improvising with picturesque characters and clouds of chillum. The pseudo-philosophical, poetic, and imaginative lyrics strongly enhance the pathos that pours from the lyrics. You are enveloped by an aura of mystery, of darkness. It is all unique and extremely fascinating. An alienated declamation, child of the cursed poets, just like a Baudelaire catapulted between guitars and tribal percussions. The violin that flutters in the slopes raised by Alan is that of Jean Luc Ponty, violinist of Frank Zappa and the Mahavishnu Orchestra.

Leaving aside the praises of the title track, we can consider "Vorrei Incontrarti" as one of the most delicate ballads of our prog, sister to the various "I Talk To The Wind" and "Nothing At All." In this case, the voice does not play between serious accents and enchanted screams, but sets itself in a subdued sound ready to release emotions like maternal caresses. The following "La Mia Mente," on the other hand, presents a frightening design capable of flustering and terrifying. The ethereal "Un Fiume Tranquillo," with lyrics bordering on pantheism and hedonism, simultaneously closes the work and the high and exquisite career of the young Alan. Everything is as surprising as the continuation of this fantastic dream. From here on, there are only ups and downs, critical moments, and vanished dreams. A reality blocked by the system and market logic. Either you remain in the circle of a few elect or smile on TV for fleeting pleasures.