Cesare Cremonini
Alaska Baby

Oh Cesare, my dear Cesare.

In the intricate tangle that is my musical upbringing, sold to classic rock and jazz (with all its offspring), the brightest light has always been Cremonini... in the end, on Saturday mornings at home, the radio would turn on and in the early 2000s, it was him playing, and playing loud.

Let's add that "La nuova stella di Broadway" is my mom's favorite song (the only one in the house who experiences music like a sane and normal person, and the true artist of the house), Cesare would always be playing in the house.

Initially, I knew two or three of his songs, then in my musical maturity, I dug into every corner, unearthed Lunapop, eagerly awaited new releases, and for once in my life, I was an active fan (and not a fan of bands that no longer exist... or rather they exist... but don't exist).

Cesare also accompanied my first love and those that followed with "poetica," accompanied breakups and stories that never started... in short, he is a constant soundtrack of my life, perpetual and indispensable.

But Cesare is also a crazy crazy artist... out of the box, and already with "possibili scenari" and "la ragazza del futuro" he embarked on a path towards '80s pop sounds that would belong to me if they winked at rock and not disco dance (which I would have absolutely wanted to experience).

Therefore, "Alaska Baby" makes me say: "meh", I expect something entirely different compared to the pop songwriting of "logico", "primo bacio sulla luna" or "la teoria dei colori", that songwriting that made me fall in love; do I fear it? Yes, I fear it.

This huge premise to understand with what approach I look at this new album, in love but wary, like a beautiful but notoriously bitchy girl.

I press Play: "Alaska Baby," the title track immediately welcomes us, and I understand that perhaps it hasn't gone off the rails but still remains in that circle of perfection where he has always walked.

It surprised me (and I laugh while writing and listening to it...), it has combined different influences, an extra bass urban base initially with a very "Un giorno migliore" chorus, I realize that he is blending innovation with the past... good.

As I move forward, I confirm that he alternates a more modern and in a certain way American sound like "Dark room" (even if it winks incredibly at the AM and thus to British rock, therefore my favorite track of the album) with the poetry of Italian songwriting in "San Luca"... those linear melodies, a piano, violins, a soft drum, and poetry floating above these sweet waves drawn by light notes, as if they were faded, imperceptible on the score itself, the very essence in their vibrations, style "La nuova stella di Broadway" to be clear (not on par with that masterpiece though).

The same reasoning applies to "Un'alba rosa," very "Nessuno vuole essere Robin".

Let it be clear, for me saying that the new tracks remind me of his old songs, which are masterpieces, is a positive thing, because I always feared that those sensations, those strings of my soul, could no longer be touched with new music, precisely because of the tangent I mentioned earlier.

Instead, I am relieved and comforted to hear the same poetry on an even more modern sound and still very instrumental (I am a child of "Figlio di un Re"), among guitars, strings, always fabulous piano... a truly rich and orchestral production (as I write this, I'm still listening to "Un'alba rosa" and I think of it with "Una poesia," from the title I could have expected it...), I'm happy with this dimension I've landed in.

Sure, those more "disco" (a risky definition anyway) and weaker tracks are there, a bit more lively and offspring of opiates (figuratively of course, we understand each other), but Cesare... it's okay nonetheless.

I cannot finish without mentioning "Acrobati," I don't mention it last because it's the last track, but because it's a perfectly melancholic conclusion to the world I’ve lived in for an hour. I must say a quite Sanremo-esque song, very powerful and poignant, I could have easily seen it there. Deep lyrics, exceptional production, and that extra bit casually inserted halfway did not displease me and indeed, it makes a lot of sense: because the initial melancholy transforms into energy, like a sort of rebirth from the ashes, that feeling bad that turns into fighting spirit in a moment of life... like acrobats among the ruins.

Could it be that I needed this and Cesare gave me this? Yes, of course, but that's why I listen to him.

(P.S. Does it remind you a bit of "Tattoo" by Loreen, or is it just me?)

In conclusion: a step forward compared to "Possibili scenari"? No, 2 masterpieces make 10 albums ("Poetica" alone makes 8), but a step forward compared to "La ragazza del futuro". Experimental enough, innovative enough, staying in the same fantastic concrete and dreamer world of Cesare.