Lubna
Essere Felici Mangiando Una Torta Di Frutta

I bought Essere Felici Mangiando Una Torta Di Frutta during one of my frequent excursions hunting for records on special offer, excursions that allow me to stash tapes, CDs, and vinyl in quantity for a pittance. The record label is Baracca&Burattini, the same as the Snaporaz, the one that also took care of the release of the debut album of the commendable Baustelle, so in my mind, this gave Lubna a certain street credibility, which made me think "yes, let's take them." Normally, my blind purchases don't betray me (thanks to this modus operandi I was able to discover the imaginative Larry Martin Factory). In this case, however, after a first (and then a second, a third, a fifteenth) listening, my music-loving soul found itself torn, caught in a terrible dilemma that still persists today and can be summarized as follows: I can't figure out if I like the album or if it disgusts me.

Musically speaking, Lubna is quite an interesting project, a blend of good pop, dub, a splash of funky, a resort to electronics that's far from overwhelming, and brass right in the right places to enrich the harmonies. Tracks that force you to wiggle, or at least rhythmically move the tip of your right foot, like Nuova Casa, Un Appiglio Mobile, Lotteria Totale, Strani Giorni, alternate with more atmospheric moments, softer ones, the most beautiful of which remain Il Gioco Degli Occhi and Il Moltiplicatore.
So where lies the problem?
The problem is that, alongside such instrumental and melodic skill, comes the rather questionable performance of the singer and the irritating weakness of the lyrics.
There’s little to be done about the lyrics: nice when they stick to simplicity, when they exploit the obsessive refrain, like in Appiglio Mobile or Strani Giorni, interesting although a bit pretentious in Il Moltiplicatore and Il Gioco Degli Occhi, they become banal and border on idiocy in the rest of the tracks.
The worst part, however, is the vocalist of the group. Poor Laura tries, sweats, and puts her all into it, but unfortunately for her, despite resorting to a kind of drawn-out rap in many tracks, she cannot overcome a chronic short-windedness (is that what you call it?) and a certain tendency to miss the semitones (to put it vulgarly: to sing off-key). And, mischievously, I wonder: if this lady's last name weren't Redeghieri (?!?!), would she EVER have entered a recording studio by now?
In short: musically commendable, the rest of Essere Felici Mangiando Una Torta Di Frutta is a real letdown. To be purchased only if on special offer.