Brunori sas
A casa tutto bene

Easy to talk about Brunori now, the early admirers will say. Ok, true. He was talked about quite a bit when Poveri Cristi was released, some of my friends were already listening to him years ago and recommended him to me, but I snubbed him because he seemed too ostentatiously hipster and the single that was playing then, Kurt Cobain, didn't convince me at all.

Then, La verità. As has happened to me many other times, a song opened the way for me. Words so straightforward, so to the point against the hypocrisies and pettiness of each of us, struck me remarkably. A crescendo that doesn't aim to be particularly original musically, but supports and amplifies an old-fashioned text. I gave him a chance blindly; I bought the record.

Beautiful, I immediately told myself. Initially, I loved the more direct and fresh tracks: Canzone contro la paura is an even more floating De Gregori, all richly interwoven with very soft backing vocals. The lively rhythm of Lamezia Milano. And then La vita liquida, with that very tropical final coda that feels like a "panic" immersion in the elements of nature.

The rest is nice but nothing special. Songs that are not too ambitious, small. But then I continued listening and delved into the lyrics, after the initial flash in the pan of La verità. And I realized the completeness of Dario Brunori's perspective. Starting from the first track, which begins the journey of self-questioning, many aspects of everyone's daily life are covered, the many small hypocrisies, the "Yes" with a bitter taste in the mouth to the canonical question: "Is everything okay at home?"

There is the harsh politics of L'uomo nero. The invective against all too easy targets soon turns into a personal and intimate reflection, in which the hypocrisies of even those who distance themselves from certain political lines are nailed, but in their daily conduct confirm those same fears they stigmatize. Until the very bitter conclusion: "I who sip yet another bitter / sitting at a table on the Navigli / Thinking deep down everything is fine / I just need not to have children / And instead not."

The same Canzone contro la paura, one of the most immediate, has significant meaning. The words have a metanarrative bent, talking about making songs. And as in a great preterition, it says not wanting to make serious songs, just to sing for oneself, talking about love. But in explaining what people would like, namely songs that are anthems, songs that give strength, the little song is transformed into a chilling anthem: "And instead no, you want exciting songs, / that grab you by the throat without any courtesies, / songs like slaps in the face to force you to think / beautiful songs that leave you feeling bad / Those songs to sing at the top of your lungs, / as if five thousand voices became one / songs that I still love you even if it's sad, even if it's hard, / songs against fear / Songs that save your life, / that make you say 'no, damn it, it's not over yet!' / that give you the strength to start over, / that keep you standing when you feel like collapsing." From a little song to an identity anthem.

Lamezia Milano presents itself as a summer little song and meanwhile lands well-aimed blows: "With the terror of a Holy War / and the West closed in a bank. / I'm going away on a white week, white. / With the metropolis that still enchants / and the province stuck in the eighties. / Italy waves the white flag / and sings, and sings." In short, another paradoxical game, of the type very dear to Baustelle. A pop little song with a pitch-black heart.

Let's skip for a moment to the final triptych, which is decisive. Perhaps Il costume da torero is the most significant of the whole album: there's an admirable desire to take the bull (the world and its ugliness) by the horns. A children's choir sings: "Reality is shit / but it doesn't end here"; the only hope comes from the fact that things are not unchangeable, there is room for the future. The dialectic is between cynicism (stopping believing that the world can be better) and stupidity (thinking that it's always others who have to change). Here too, the daily hypocrisies of people are unmasked.

Secondo me re-proposes the omnipresent paradoxes in the album: everyone sees things in their own way, who knows what it would be like to take someone else's perspective. But inevitably that "according to me" anaphorically introduces many opinions, more or less sensible. As if to say that even he, Brunori, can say stupid things, like that of shopping centers. They are all opinions, there are no revealed truths.

And after all this brooding, comes the end that contradicts everything, continuing the paradoxical dialectic that runs through the album. After a series of judgments, maybe disguised, maybe whispered and put in showy contexts, comes the last rational effort: "But I finally understood / That I didn't understand anything about the world / That I want to be clever and instead I'm / A fool as always / You also told me / Life must be lived / Without finding a meaning in it / You also told me / Life must be lived / And instead I think."

A circle that closes, after unmasking the many hypocrisies of people, the songwriter unmasks himself and identifies the way to serene life, to truly say "Everything is fine at home". The final verses explain it: "You always told me / Life is a prison / That only you see / You always told me / Life is a chain / That you lock up." A bit of a scaling down of everything: those who know how to live, live, don't even dream of these fusses.

Colpo di pistola is a well-placed slow song between two lively tracks; it holds up well, even if a bit lacking in content. Diego e io is a beautiful ballad, which showcases Brunori's vocal possibilities at their best. Don Abbondio is perhaps the most aesthetically tired passage, but it has a remarkable coherence with the album's concept: "Don Abbondio is I / leaning out of the window / watching the rubble / counting what's left." Sabato bestiale resumes galloping and plays very well with clichés, platitudes, and sharp honesty that corrodes respectability and hypocrisy, polemic targets of the album.

The imperfections are few, some small steps a bit predictable and repetitive towards the second half, some slightly cloying phrases, some unnecessary descriptive passages. But for the rest, it's all precious material. I've already bought the first two albums.