Banco del Mutuo Soccorso
Io sono nato libero

Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso - Io Sono Nato Libero (1973)

The greatness of the bands that have marked the history of music lies largely in their boundless ability to surprise and enchant, just when it is believed that the peak of musical magnificence has already been reached. In 1973, Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso not only managed to match the unprecedented instrumental effectiveness of the concept evolution in Darwin!, but they reached peaks of inspiration that would indeed mark a point of no return for the entire Italian progressive scene and beyond. Inspiration in the lyrics, in the singing of Francesco Di Giacomo, in the meticulous work on the arrangements, never so curated and rich. (It is worth mentioning that this will be the last work of Marcello Todaro on guitar, assisted by the newcomer Rodolfo Maltese, even though he is not credited, who will become a fundamental member in every respect).

If in the previous work, the brothers Nocenzi & co. wisely revisited with a handful of tracks the first steps of life, up to complex sedentary communities, now it is the political denouncement, the manifestos against war and human alienation that take center stage. The album title is explanatory of the most substantial message in this sense, the one that certainly managed to stir the chords, echoing the words Di Giacomo cries out disarmed, in an instrumental embrace, in the mini-suite that hands over to the future, the third work of Banco.

The dance begins with "Canto Nomade Per Un Prigioniero Politico". The first two minutes, for the writer, smell of Banco like few other fragments of compositions of this fabulous Roman group. Vittorio Nocenzi sets the path with a lament on the keyboards, the signal for Di Giacomo's voice, which in a mournful tone, tells the last memories of that political prisoner, locked up without air, without light, but not without a soul. From there, it's a minute of piano, a carpet of notes that carries away the thoughts and dreams of the prisoner and the listener, in one last cry, away from that stinking hole. This is the moment when the album's music binds to the listener, not to let go for the next forty minutes. The listener, almost stunned, would like to hear those same notes played endlessly.

It's a continuous exchange between Gianni and Vittorio, from Vittorio back to Gianni, of lashes, recalls, hammer strikes, sweet at first, then rocky, while an elusive singing stands out. The classical guitar interludes, which intervene often, embroider one of the most poignant moments of the composition: you will then hear the plucked strings, accompanying you to the gallows, just along with the condemned, as much as these notes will be designed and as much as the voice will be delivered and laid down at last, "...lamentations of guitars, wrongly suspected, softly sighed...". How to make the listening of fifteen minutes of denouncement music unforgettable and encapsulate in an essence first sweet and then neurotic, the work and message of Banco. All this is the first track.

As much as the rest of the album could consist of mere fillers, given the objective marvel of the mini-suite, the subsequent fairytale goodnight ballad, with a bitter aftertaste, perhaps gives us Banco's most known piece: "Non Mi Rompete". The effect is overwhelming. And it is not an inappropriate term for a song that makes continuous guitar arpeggio and a soft singing its strength. Overwhelming, because it sings strongly the desire, burning, to continue dreaming, even though the dream is over, perhaps forever. "...because you want to disturb me, if I may be dreaming a winged journey...". It is an epitaphic text that, I believe, all dreamers of this life would like to see engraved on their tombstone. We spoke earlier, rightly so, of human alienation.

And here comes into play, in this regard, a composition entirely brought to life by Gianni Nocenzi, "La Città Sottile", which "simply" anticipates by nearly forty years, all the problems that silently or not, inhabit the souls of people trapped in narrow ivory towers of large cities. The track unfolds on the usual, but never banal or boring, roll out of rivers of piano notes, with various psychedelic hints and a dialogued and recited part masterfully by Francesco Di Giacomo. It is a strongly hallucinated, cadenced track, at certain points blurred, truly oppressive, and the dialogue with the guitar, at a certain juncture, amplifies all of this. Worth noting again, in addition to the purity and sophistication of the arrangements, a great work on the lyrics. "...dim lights your rare stars, your Sun has expired...".

The manifesto to pacifism and against war is represented by "Dopo...Niente E' Più Lo Stesso", another rather long and substantial track. The recipe seems to be the same; continuous, quarrelsome duets first with foils, then with cannons shooting flowers, between the Nocenzi brothers, supporting Di Giacomo who sings about a soldier's return to his homeland, who will discover that the war is perhaps over, but indeed after, nothing is the same anymore. The orchestral bacchanal of the track allows each group member to express themselves at the highest levels. Everyone on the shields; the brothers close an infinite circle with piano and keyboards, Calderoni's drums on the attack (as in much of the album, after all), while Maltese and Todaro's guitars lash and cut gently, and Francesco screams his anger to a world in ruins, "...what have I won? Where have I won? When I know, now I know, that I am dead inside, among my ruins...".

The conclusion of the album is entrusted to a tender instrumental, "Traccia II" (after "Traccia" of the debut), which seems to want to soothe the eardrums battered by so much beauty and musical orgy. Soften and cradle, among the virtuosities of the brothers of destiny, Gianni and Vittorio, who literally construct a piece with ribbons, 2:39 that one wishes would never end, lost chasing those notes that arrive who knows where, perhaps visiting the minds of those who, even today, live with their hearts in chains. It is perhaps the highest point ever reached by Italian prog-rock and certainly the definitive and total consecration of Banco, who shortly thereafter, will create such a sensation as to reach the ears of a certain Greg Lake...