Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso
Capolinea

BANCO DEL MUTUO SOCCORSO - CAPOLINEA (1980)

In the long course of the birth, life (and death) of the music we usually define as "rock" and in the specific progressive branch, we can easily find artists and bands who, more than others, have been able to foresee with great anticipation an imminent season of change.

This is the case of Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso, a Roman quintuple-decked ship, which in the last throes of the '70s, with "Canto di Primavera" first and this live after, tries to ferry the much-loved progressive towards new shores, only to realize later on the impossibility of copying and pasting such a past into a decade that was shaping up to be at least "polished". And so, landed on the new island, Banco, as if to gently suffocate a lifelong friend, terminally ill, reaches the final "Terminus", not without dedicating a final epitaph to that missed dream.

Fervent criticisms of this live can be read on the lips of many die-hard Banco fans. Certainly, it sounds very different from the band of its beginnings, whether due to the rich section of wind instruments and almost funky airs in the percussion (Karl Potter indeed supports Pierluigi Calderoni), or because of the production, well-packaged, paradoxically too much so, indeed. But we are talking about exceptional musicians, now at an unimaginable level of experience. And the union of the '70s mindset, even in the way of playing, in a live performance that attempts to embrace the '80s, returns a feeling between a foggy, melancholic dream and a splash of ice-cold water in the face, resulting from new sounds. There is a fragment of every album. A small piece that reminds us of a "Piggy Bank" here and a web of the "Spider" that we would've liked to feel vibrate around us, over there. And the love of "Darwin", which on this occasion is enriched by a nervously accelerated tone, dramatically romantic. There is also a fun ensemble divided into two parts, conceived and created specifically for the live, baptized in a moment of scarce inspiration, "Capolinea pt.1 and pt.2", where in an instrumental orgy, Di Giacomo introduces the gang and himself in a more than amusing way. Here, besides the slightly funky change in approach we talked about, the versions present some revision compared to the studio recordings, such as in the case of the little story "Non Mi Rompete", where Banco always demonstrates that genuineness is at home. A sweet and fluid stream of notes surprises us, in a wonderful intro that acts as a recall to medieval flutes. The magic and calm are such that the song could go on like this forever, with no one getting tired of it. But there is also room for a fiery finale, where Rodolfo Maltese reminds us of what he's made of. There's also the almost jazz detour of "Garofano Rosso", which benefits more than other tracks from Karl Potter's bursts and the persistent winds. A mention also deserves "Canto di Primavera", very complex to render worthily live, yet here in equally melancholic splendor.

"Capolinea" is an important testimony of a group I consider the most significant in Italy in the Progressive Rock scene. One may like or disdain the decisive turn undertaken, but it never loses sight of the dream that, unfortunately, in the background, sets. The Banco, like others, had understood, intuited, already drawn. The last years of the '70s are incredibly gloomy and twilight, where it seems one doesn't want to turn the page, yet the new decade will ultimately open. But for those who want, there is nothing unreachable beyond those mountains, which hide from view only, a sunset that actually burns more than ever.