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Rating: There is a book by Roberto Tarco entitled "Angelo Branduardi/ Cercando l'oro" (published in 2010 by Arcana Edizioni), which contains biography, discography, interviews, and opinions about the singer-songwriter. In the final interview, there is a passage where Angelo states: "You see, the more I go forward, the harder it becomes to write because knowing more than I knew at the beginning, I actually know less. If before I knew three ways to arrange Alla fiera dell'est, now I know three hundred..."
"Il rovo e la rosa" is not really an album of new songs. Accompanying the new pieces, there are also reinterpretations of some "historic Branduardian" songs. If we consider what Angelo said (the lines above), we might be hypocritical to think that this work stems from a lack of inspiration rather than from the artist's desire to experiment with his own works. However, this latter hypothesis is not enough to veil the strangeness of this album, which despite everything manages to offer music with a certain artistic depth. "Il Rovo e la rosa" is indeed a sound fusion between those which (at the time of their respective releases) were considered Angelo's most innovative and experimental works: "Branduardi canta Yeats" from 1986, and "Il ladro" from 1991. To notice this, just listen to "Mary Hamilton" and "Rosa di Galilea", which would then be "Lullaby" (from "Cogli la prima mela", 1979) and "Il ciliegio" (from "La pulce d'acqua", 1977). Both pieces have been stripped of the pompous arrangements that characterized the original versions, to present themselves in a new, leaner, more sober sound with partially varied lyrics, in order to find a connection with the main themes of this album: love and death, precisely. But listening to these new reinterpretations reveals a bitter twist: the bland essence that characterizes them.
Giving a new identity to a historic track is a noble experiment, but it will never arouse the same curiosity as an undiscovered piece!
Unfortunately, however, a malignant presence even overshadows the new songs. "Lord Baker", for example, rests on a sweet-sounding carpet (created by keyboards) that brings to mind a classic from the golden age, like "La luna". However, the piece is penalized by its excessive length and the obsessive repetition of the harmonic theme on which it's built. The same goes for "Il falegname" where Branduardi returns to being the storyteller we all know. But, in this case too, the minstrel's sublime interpretation is penalized by the insistent flatness of the acoustic arpeggios, which might lower the listener's attention (an unforgivable flaw, considering the genre we are listening to).
"Il rovo e la rosa" still retains some interesting moments, like the Celtic ballad "Baidin Fheiumi" or the small gem "Lord Franklin", a slow seafaring tune with an Arctic aftertaste, built from some glacial arpeggios that occasionally give way to a melancholy and calm violin. Also commendable is the cover of "Geordie" (by the late colleague Faber), included in the first of the three movements that characterize the "Suite per arciliuto e voce". The album closes with "Barbrie Allen", a song already presented in the previous "Così è se mi pare", here featured in a more acoustic version that fails to match the magic of the original arrangement.
This is a challenging and heavy album, reserved for true fans of Angelo Branduardi. For those unfamiliar with his works, the advice is to revisit the classics of the '70s: the simplest way to love one of the undisputed geniuses of Italian songwriting.
Federico "Dragonstar" Passarella.
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