Andrea Chimenti
L'albero pazzo

Andrea Chimenti, born in 1959, after an initial experience with the Moda ("without the accent," he often finds himself forced to clarify), is searching for his path under his own name, but not alone; he indeed relies on excellent collaborators, particularly the duo Magnelli-Maroccolo, both former members of Litfiba, former CCCP, and integral parts of CSI, in those early '90s, marking the beginning of the solo career of our protagonist.

His debut was released in 1992 and is titled "La maschera del corvo nero", which I would define as interesting but still unripe; however, I have only a vague memory of it since I had it on cassette and haven't listened to it for about 20 years. After another 4 years of collaborations and the gestation of an even more personal style, Andrea Chimenti publishes a now mature work. L'albero pazzo expresses this new form of more acoustic singer-songwriter style, but far from the folk tinges (typical of a De Gregori) or rock-like tones (à la Edoardo Bennato). We are also distant from a socially engaged and committed perspective typical of popular figures like De André and Guccini. This album reveals decidedly more intimate nuances, although the title track hints, in a very poetic and symbolic way, at the social censorship of creativity in the name of "order and discipline" values. An evocative text, highlighted by a well-constructed melody, and well-arranged with acoustic guitar, strings emphasizing the drama of the scene, and a tail once again of acoustic guitar that communicates beyond words. The entire album is a well-crafted work, where the intention is not to overwhelm the listener with sounds but to attract them with their simplicity. Carta di riso is emblematic in this sense: after a brief, whispered, and dissonant introduction, a couple of bars of drum beats that sound more real than usual, and then guitar and a cello screaming a few phrases. Few sounds, but all in the right place. The closing track, Si dirada la nebbia, starts similarly but then surprises in the second part: first voice and guitar, then only percussion, and finally grows in intensity with more synthetic sounds and syncopated percussion against the backdrop of voices on the phone (which remind me of the interludes between the tracks of The Wall), and after a few seconds of silence, another faint fading melody, and this time I see parallels with the ending of Storia di un minuto by PFM.

And again, how can we not remember the contribution of David Sylvian, who sings in Ti ho aspettato, emphasizing how a warm voice and low tones are more suitable for these tracks, contrary to how Chimenti himself sings in the verses of Ora o mai, or in the chorus of Lasciatemi stare. Capable and dense even when pushing on the voice among slightly higher notes, but it is certainly better when his singing becomes gentle and alluring. Among the other tracks, I highlight the beautiful Maestro Strabilio, light but not trivial in melody, yet melancholic in its lyrics, skillfully telling in a subtle way about the suicide of an artist unable to adapt to the world's banality; the poignant Una muta canzone, a delicate piano piece; Senza un'alba, which in some guitar passages reminds me of Alan's psychedelic breakfast by Pink Floyd, from Atom heart mother (could this be a coincidence, given that both tracks describe morning moments?).
In essence, a well-composed, well-arranged, very well-played and sung album, finally well-produced, as it seems to me that the sounds I described are so clear that I almost "see" them, as if I'm participating in a live performance in my home.
No, this non-review can't be missed, and I'm happy to debut among Debaser reviewers with this beautiful album.