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Rating: The anticipation preceding this album was almost nerve-wracking, because in reality no one really knew what to expect. A return to the original sound was clearly out of the question, the announced features were unexpected, and the ways in which the band could evolve were many.
The change in sound compared to their early days is now fully mature. The band favors mid-tempos, has abandoned their old trademark of keeping the riff closed and then opening it up, has embraced song structures that give more prominence to the vocals, pays less attention to riffing, and has various other features that we’ll see in the track-by-track.
However, the shift in aesthetics and spirit is far from marginal. Where once every now and then you’d hear a “Torino Oi!” shout, now that cry is gone. That type of pride survives, but only a handful of elements still connect it to the history of the granata skinheads. On balance, this is a bit of a shame, because it means you feel less of Bull Brigade’s extremely personal soul, and the lyrics become more general instead. I’m also sorry to note that sometimes the lyrics drop a bit in quality compared to the brutally poetic verses of the past. For starters, the random English words don’t make much sense, and the lyrics often feel a bit heterogeneous; the references to the demons of drinking aren’t clear, some courageous attempts come off as clumsy, and basically, moments of nostalgia alternate with moments where the band looks ahead. In short, it’s tough for me to keep my inner purist at bay, but maybe I could put it this way: before, they recounted the memories and pains of a skinhead, now it’s the memories and pains of an ordinary person. So yes, change is necessary, but it still stings a bit: with what heart did Eugenio let go of the SHARP cry? I try to imagine it and picture a truly sad scene: the skinheads with their boots and Nabat shirts watching Eugenio, under the rain, turning his back and walking away. He walks off toward a new chapter in street punk history. For better or for worse, we must admit that Eugenio is perhaps the only one who wanted to move on. Moving on and maybe even getting the market interested in punk, the general public. But careful—over time, it will have to be the market that bends to punk, not the other way around.
"Primo Sguardo" opens with a monologue that, frankly, we could have done without. On "Bull Brigade, Torino" you expect it, you know it’s coming, it’s unavoidable that it will say "Torino Oi!". But instead, no, it doesn’t say "Oi!". Musically, the start is pretty decent, showcasing the heavy melodic dose, but it works. "My Friend" doesn’t excite, with nice but somewhat clumsy lyrics. "Sopra i muri" was lackluster and remains so: it grows a little with every listen, and I have to admit it was right to say that by listening to the whole album we’d better figure out this track. It’s true, some things become clearer, but this single can only dream of making it onto the album’s podium. Now we come to where the band’s new formula really shines: Willie Peyote lends himself on "Il quindicesimo inverno", with a great riff and an atmosphere that really hits the mark. And it’s fitting to say we’re spinning Negazione records as much as Nirvana ones. "Boots" also works brilliantly, even with a piano delivering a truly killer track. With FAASK, "Prendere fuoco" works, stays in your head, and while not as punchy as the previous one, flows smoothly. "Ragazza come noi" is based on a great idea, even though it doesn’t work 100%. "Lividi", with Giancane, matches lyrics and music well and makes for a good feature even if, once again, it’s nothing miraculous. "Senza spine" also works very well, with a vibe similar to "Boots" and an almost groove metal tone. However, the rapped part’s delivery doesn’t convince me and seems banal. The mediocre, albeit not tragic, "Farewell" closes the album.
The experiment works overall, but not always. The band has clarified its ideas but still offers a bit of a mishmash—hopefully, over time, they’ll get a clearer sense of what they want to be. But, taken for what it is, it’s good. "Strade Smarrite" is now a thing of the past.
"Rasoio in tasca perché non si sa mai". Score: 74/100.
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