Angelo Branduardi
Gulliver, la luna e altri disegni

Under the enormous salad basket of Angelo Branduardi's hair lies a musician of the highest order, an excellent violinist and guitarist, a great connoisseur of instruments that have long fallen out of use, a researcher and composer of ethnic music, far ahead of the trends of the '90s. But more than his hair, it is the undeserved reputation of being the author of childish nursery rhymes that has overshadowed this side of him, a reputation he partly created himself. The great success of songs like "Alla fiera dell'Est," "La pulce d'acqua," and "Cogli la prima mela" made people forget his more interesting compositions, often contained in the same albums as the well-known nursery rhymes.

The most authentic Branduardi prevails in the album released in 1975 as "La luna," almost ignored and then reissued in 1980 with the only addition of "Gulliver" and with the definitive title "Gulliver, la luna e altri disegni." Undoubtedly the absolute masterpiece of the Lombard minstrel, and the fact that it doesn't contain even one "hit" here is an advantage. The inventiveness is already at its peak, the instrumentation is already masterful, there is an overall maturity that sets it on another level compared to the uncertain debut of 1974. Above all stands a goosebump-inducing ballad that alone justifies the purchase: it's called "Confessioni di un malandrino" and it envelops the beautiful poem-confession by Sergej Esenin in a precious weave of arpeggios from two acoustic guitars (Branduardi himself and the excellent Maurizio Fabrizio). "On the magnificent carpet of verses I want to tell you something that touches you..." says the text, among other things, and never as in this case does it succeed.

Because the main limitation of our minstrel is precisely that of the lyrics, and if in this case it is elegantly overcome, as a rule it leads him to associate excellently crafted music with rather trite stories and tales. Much less so in this album, which is not coincidentally the best. Gentle music paints the enchanting nocturnal picture titled "La luna." Soft bass drum hits, muffled bass, mists of flutes, clear and rarefied guitar arpeggios, the very whisper of the voice... everything is dark blue, fresh, a countryside night with a black forest backdrop. "Rifluisce il fiume" is capable of moving even the most reluctant souls. To the pressing questions of the verses ("What does the old man say to death, who awaits?", to name one) responds an obsessive refrain based on an Andean motif ("E niente mai perduto va... al centro tutto va"), with the inevitable flute. A somewhat vague, philosophical response, but reassuring in its own way: after all, everything is part of the cycle of life. "Gulliver" is a picturesque mix of archaic percussion, plucked guitars, and high-pitched flute whistles, taking us more into the world of Tolkien's hobbits and gnomes than into Swift's, the author of "Gulliver's Travels." The main protagonist is nature, an archaic and idealized nature, as in "Tanti anni fa," where the lake and the woman bathing in it turn back time to old stories of castles, in "Notturno," where the profound mystery of animal sleep is explored, and in "Primavera," where the awakening of life is celebrated with unusually lively rhythms, symbolized by a woman. Who is also a symbol of the earth bearing fruits in "Donna mia," with a beautiful cyclical piano theme that has the only flaw of too closely resembling the first prelude of Bach's "Clavier-Übung." Another piece not from Branduardi's own hand is the very sad "Gli alberi sono alti," based on a traditional Celtic theme, here orchestrated with rare skill, with the usual two acoustic guitars prominently featured. "La danza," brief as an apparition, closes with the Indian vibrations of a sitar an album that fulfills the promises of its title: there are indeed drawings, and they are ten, each more colorful than the last.