Bugo
Contatti

Here we go again. The new Bugatti comes out, I expect one thing and instead, he pulls another out of that cylinder of sparkling ideas he has. I expect stories with a rock and roll swing mixed with that wobbly and Beck-like lo-fi dear to him, and instead, he comes out with "Contatti," bitter and synthetic-flavored electro-pop that talks about us, full of neon 1980s and a discontented 2000. He comes out with an album full of keyboards, synths, and sixties pianos that hits the center of our everyday stories, precisely due to the contemporaneity of the sounds and lyrics, in that tangle of problems and difficulties with which, sooner or later, we all have to deal.

Bugo is eclectic, a wizard of spontaneity. A punctual observer of the everyday in as much a "domestic" as a foreign key. A childlike poet intelligently instantaneous and simple. The kind of somewhat crazy guy who seems to be fooling around, making fun of you, but then manages to sing with a sparse and mocking ease about mortgages to pay, love stories that end, cadastres and condominiums ("Balliamo Un Altro Mese"), "shared troubles and separate blessings" ("C'è Crisi"), of love on a drifting "Love Boat", or of prosperity that persecutes a society burdened by excess, "reduced to excess and not to the bone" ("Primitivo"); in an immediate and urban language so simple and incisive that makes you wonder why didn't I think of it before? Why didn't I meet you before? You who talk like me about your problems and things? Bitter and ironic, playful and unprepared?

The result is a brilliant, not at all tired piece of work. Reactive and clear-headed. It goes from the glittery and harsh electronics of "Nel Giro Giusto" and "Balliamo Un Altro Mese" to the carefree pop of "La Mano Mia." From the carefree soul of "Posso Uscire" and "Posso Entrare", to the hip hop (which is anti-rap par excellence) of "Primitivo" and the original and caustic "Le Buone Maniere". From the romantic beat-pop of "Love Boat", to the truly scorching songwriter piece, "Felicità"; which seems to stand there to remind you how childish and naive you can be now. Until we arrive at what is the small perfect and desolate masterpiece of "Contatti": "C'è Crisi" which, with that organ intro and that vaguely sixties interceding, accompanied by one of the most beautiful Italian videos of recent times (directed by Lorenzo Vignolo) and with lyrics as essential as liberating, deserves a separate mention. All this in a blend of electric dancefloor pieces (produced by Stefano Fontana alias Stylophonic, just to give us an idea), mixed with stylish and unusual ballads, with one true main theme: contacts. Human ones, those between us complicated beings. 2008 Contacts. Those of your PC which has now become a life of its own, those difficult ones with your woman who's been off and not talking to you for days, those with the work you do, where you seem out of place because others, the real men, leave a trail and smell like gold. Everyday contacts, those with ourselves and others. The difficult ones, when everything seems more difficult.

Maybe tonight I drank too much too. My eyes are crossing in front of the keyboard. Maybe I'll put on that crazy Bugo character, so I stop thinking about all my "me" and all my "them." Bugo slowly tells me over those piano notes and bells that "he's been seeing me pensive for days, that I've lost balance, that he'll fix everything", my "Sesto Senso"... "he who never misses a beat, who keeps me awake". The one I should perhaps listen to sometimes. I know, I make the metropolitan storyteller from Novara sing in my stereo hoping that humor will return while only the bitterness resurfaces. But it returns on its own; it's part of all this. There he is, the Bugo of 2008: bitter and sweet, ironic and sharp. I've already added him to my contacts, have you? Who adds a friend...