Baustelle
Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza

Pop, a word that many fear, used derogatorily, when someone sells their soul to the god of Money, or when they throw electric guitars and indie-noise attitude down the drain (how beautiful it is to be alternative) to embrace more melodic sounds (see Marlene Kuntz). Here on De-Baser, I want to restore the image of a term used incorrectly. "Pop," if done well, is simply synthesis, intelligence, the ability to bring together multiple genres, multiple tastes into a single song, with the ambition to be original but above all not to be labeled in a single trend, something quite unfeasible in Italy for indie bands. Pop also means, the centrality of lyrics and voice, not hiding behind pointless distortions while shouting (meeeee and youuuuuu there's nothinggggg).

This is the starting point to talk about the extraordinary Baustelle, known as Francesco Bianconi (vocals, guitar, and lyrics), Fabrizio Massara (synth, keyboards, piano, and effects), Rachele Bastreghi (vocals, synth, and guitar), Claudio Brasini (guitar), Mirko Cappelli (bass) and Michele Angiolini (drums). They come from Montepulciano (Siena), and sparkling like their Brunello, they debut under the late "Baracca & Burattini" with (these are not exaggerated and banal words), one of the most beautiful Italian records of all time, that "Illustrated Youth Handbook", produced by the genius of Amerigo Verardi (Lotus, Virginiana Miller, and soon Lova, a great band from Apulia), which earns important accolades (Best Italian Debut Album for Musica & Dischi, Premio Fuori dal Mucchio organized by Il Mucchio Selvaggio) arousing great curiosity and enthusiasm among listeners and critics for its (re)construction of forty years of pop: citing French and Italian singer-songwriting, electronics, new wave, 60s/70s soundtracks, bossa nova.

At the center, the theme of adolescence, with Bianconi's extraordinary lyrics, where a certain linguistic originality full of citations on all modernisms accompany immediate and captivating melodies, like the turbulent summer memory of "Le vacanze dell'ottantre" composed of a synthetic intro à la Bluvertigo, verse and chorus à la Battiato of "la voce del padrone", and variation in full bossa nova style. Unsettled relationships in "Martina" and "Sadik" (Splendid viola inclusion in the finale), the most rock episodes of the album along with the progression of "La canzone del riformatorio" (and now I miss you, I swear, I dream of your screams at night. Your white thighs clash against the pornographic women hung by others kept here...). Vintage carpets and atmospheres in the melancholic "Noi bambine non abbiamo scelta". Emotions in overdrive, in the new-wave race of "Gomma", a killer lyric sung on a call-and-response vocal exchange between Bianconi and the splendid (not just a voice) Rachele (solo protagonist in the obsessive "La canzone del parco"), immersing us in an unorthodox love affair. Reaching the eighth position, the cinematic masterpiece of the album "Cinecittà", set during a hypothetical audition, where a sensual producer asks very embarrassing questions to the poor young actor Bianconi who responds by singing, on a splendid piano, with a sweetness and a pathos almost pornographic, where Morricone is honored, not only in the lyrics but also in the splendid arrangements by Massara.

"Io e te nell'appartamento" and "Il musichiere 999", conclude in full melancholy and updated retro taste (like Morgan's apartment songs), a work of art made up of ten generational hymns, songs we will hardly forget. A band, a record, beyond time and trends. An absolute masterpiece of Italian discography. A spit in the face of the desire to label.