And Also the Trees
Silver Soul

In 1998, "Silver Soul" was released. It is the seventh studio album by AATT, who decided to continue on the path of "The Klaxon" and "Angelfish," works in which their unique style was enriched with overseas influences. They do so now in a more decisive way, leaving behind the English mists and steering, indeed veering (it's nice to imagine them aboard an old ocean liner) towards the distant lands of America, in search of fortune. However, the America they are heading towards is not today’s, with its towering skyscrapers and rivers of cars on eight-lane highways; nor is it the land of Californian waves, casinos, stadium concerts, and Playboy bunnies. Soon enough, and with some astonishment, when exploring "Silver Soul", skyscrapers will not appear but rather buildings under construction, not bustling and deafening roads, but solitary streets on cold metropolitan nights, not stadium shows, but intimate performances within some smoky pub in Manhattan, not bunnies but charming pin-ups, like the one that adorns the cover. An America of other times, perhaps that of Elvis, Sinatra, Hemingway, Kerouac, or even earlier, that of industrial expansion, Al Capone, and Prohibition, but whose temporal placement is actually left to the listener's imagination.

It is certainly evident from the first notes of "Nailed": a pulsating piano, a brisk and incisive guitar with tex-mex shades, a voice that seems to filter through one of those old 1950s microphones, sometimes with some wind instrument: it’s hard not to imagine having swung open the door of a lowlife New York club, eyes rising from the gambling tables and looking at us suspiciously, while a trio of black musicians heat up the scene with stale jazz. Lost images come back to life, mostly nocturnal, evocative but not necessarily linked to the lyrics, which sometimes remain on parallel tracks, difficult to interpret. As in "Blue Runner", a track strong with a sensual and compelling groove that invites dancing, the soundtrack for a party in an elite salon, sitting with a glass of whiskey in hand (or is it scotch?), surrounded by sinuous Hollywood starlets; undoubtedly the potential single of the album. More meditative, but equally smooth, is the ballad "Rosemarie's Leaving", amidst intimate childhood memories and twangs of old Western guitars. The fourth track, "Cyclone,” surprises from the get-go: an acoustic guitar plucked like a mandolin, a street organ, evoking sunny landscapes and traditions... closer to home. Memories of Little Italy? If so, a definite applause to these gentlemen from Northern England for their incredible ability to get into character. The instrumental "Where The Souls Meet" takes us back to nighttime atmospheres, beneath the neon lights of a metropolis of the past. From this point onward, we can say that the tracklist takes a unified direction and becomes the description of a night lived through the streets, clubs, parks of a great city, perhaps a New York that no longer exists.

With "Get Critical," you go dancing in a gangster club where they play energetic free jazz, soured by skillful guitars. Then, with "Before The Power Goes Down," it’s decided to continue in a Night with intriguing and subdued atmospheres, where the orchestra, supported by piano and bass, seems to want to play till dawn. It's perhaps the track most fitting for the "wee hours," to be listened to amidst the fumes of an almost empty club, with a hangover and the sense of impotence of not being able to rise from that damned sofa. The opening seconds of "The Obvious" instead serve as the soundtrack for a "showdown" in perfect Sergio Leone style, but then the pace picks up, and the guitar-organ interplay provides the backdrop for intense spoken word. The night is still long. What remains to be done? A solitary walk through "Jewel Park," so vast and desolate at this hour, lulled by the lullaby-like singing of a swaying Jones almost as much as Elvis. And when you reach the exit and find yourself on "Highway 4287," you're seized by a sense of melancholy: everything is dark now, not even the cars pass anymore, and you’re alone with your thoughts. Soft keyboards à la Angelo Badalamenti enter the scene; you look around, look up at the sky, sparkling with stars, and nothing remains but to let yourself be enveloped by the melodies that slowly overlap. Everything remains in the realm of a dreamy ecstasy, until an unpredictable yet ingenious entrance of rhythm, a hypnotic cha cha cha that discreetly leads us to the final seconds of the album.

"Silver Soul" is thus an enchanting journey through time and space, an inspired work with which And Also The Trees confirm all their class and ideally close the "American trilogy" started half a decade earlier. In these years, and particularly with "Silver Soul," AATT have managed to meet expectations, proving themselves elegant, evocative, as well as excellent musicians, without ever becoming inaccessible or mannered. The unique suggestions of this album, in fact, are proof of how genuine and conscious exploration in the vast territories of music can lead to truly surprising results, and on more than one occasion, lead to a masterpiece. Because America, in the end, still retains a silver soul.