Baustelle
I mistici dell'occidente

Two years after the great public and critical success of "Amen" (Targa Tenco in 2008) and a year after the soundtrack for the film "Giulia non esce la sera" by Giuseppe Piccioni, Baustelle returns with "I mistici dell'Occidente."
The album's title—a reference (the first of many within the postmodern Baustellian potpourri) to the book of the same name by Elémire Zolla—indicates the conceptual center: if in the "Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza" a murky and morbid adolescence was the protagonist, here it is detachment from reality that reigns in the thematic weaving ("we will save ourselves by despising reality / and this bunch of idiots will disappear"). The cover itself, which—citing the more famous "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band"—shows the three members of the group in the company of people whose identities are not revealed, contributes to creating an esoteric atmosphere that does not leave the album even after several listens.
So, can we talk about a concept album? I don't think so, not more than we could with the previous albums; even Bianconi himself stated in an interview: "I have always hated concept albums. Stuff of progressive rock, and not even the good kind" (sic). The theme of mysticism is ultimately exhausted—in a strict sense—in a few songs; in a broader sense, it pervades every single song, but in the same way the crisis of Western society permeated the tracks of "Amen." Therefore, no novelty from this perspective.

The organ in "Indaco," punctuated by light touches of synthesizer, shows two characteristic traits of the album: firstly, the "international" feel of the sounds and production, primarily due to the presence of Dubliner Pat McCarthy (already producer of R.E.M. and U2); secondly, alas, a somewhat weary compositional vein.
And this is the greatest flaw of the latest work by Baustelle: the compositions and arrangements.
Truth be told, the latter were never particularly happy (especially the almost Sanremo-like use of the orchestra in certain tracks from "Amen"); but one of the strengths of the previous albums was certainly the compositional vein of Bianconi and Bastreghi which, despite its repetitiveness or banality (a banality that sometimes bordered on kitsch more or less intended and amused—hey!, kitsch IS postmodern!), was nonetheless characterized by great incisiveness and effectiveness. Which, it pains to say, have disappeared from most of the songs.
The verse of the title track introduces an explicit and heartfelt homage to De André, leading to a classic Baustelle-style slogan chorus ("gentili ascoltatori, siamo nullità").
The second single released, "Le rane," a metaphor of lost innocence, brings Baustelle back to the tracks of simple and pure pop rock, amidst an exceptional special section that cites Salgari and—unfortunately—an instrumental outro (another hallmark of this album) that weighs down a good piece; followed by the launch single, "Gli spietati," much more enjoyable than the previous one and with a Battiato-like tail that adds extra value to the song.
The chorus—the, I believe, most lyrically unfortunate in the group's history—indelibly marks "Follonica," a story of sex consumed on a desolate beach of the Tyrrhenian Sea and described with particular attention to a disheartening everyday life, made of syringes, condoms, and Tampax, inserted in a maritime context that wants to become a metaphor for the two lovers, apathetic hero-gods of modern post-industrial society.
The Bianconi-prophet of "La canzone della rivoluzione" then hands the microphone to Rachele: "La bambolina" is the first piece of the album where she is the sole chanteuse; a piece that musically recalls "L'aeroplano" or "La canzone del parco," but which makes her regret the astonishing banality of the text, a hackneyed criticism of plastic girls from television.
Follows "Il sottoscritto," which Bianconi introduced live in Brescia as "a love song like they used to make," introducing an atmosphere that recalls the naïve romanticism of "La moda del lento."
The conclusion is entrusted to Rachele with "L'ultima notte felice del mondo," a romantic ballad in six-eighths that decidedly raises the compositional level of the album and makes one regret the lack of other "solo" songs by Rachele.
In short, this album will not change anyone's mind: fans will be thrilled (as I had the chance to witness in Brescia) and detractors will continue to criticize them.
A justification for the poor quality of some of the songs on the album? The contract signed with Warner sets a deadline of 18 months within which the group must deliver the finished master. Major strikes again.