Cesare Cremonini
Alaska Baby

THE REVIEW

"I discovered what I wanted to do with Alaska Baby along the way, during its creation. Because sometimes the work itself is kind of like the North Star that you start following and it takes you wherever it wants. At the beginning, I won't hide that I thought this album was a sort of final act, after releasing a series of singles. [...] It became gigantic in my hands. It's true, there are many references to today’s international music or at least the recent past. There always are in my music, it's nothing new" (Cesare Cremonini, Billboard Italia).

A well-known journalist (I won't name names, just surnames: Scanzi) described it, quite stylishly, as "a handcrafted work." In fact, in the narrow Italian music scene—where the usual cover trappers (Shiva, Baby Gang, Sfera Ebbasta, Kid Yugi—no, not Kid Yugi, he’s good) are what sells—an artist who commits, writes 12 well-played, well-arranged tracks, identifying a kind of music that wants to be as unbanal as possible is an event to celebrate enduringly. Of course, "Alaska Baby", as it is, if it had been released, say, thirty years ago, it would have been dismissed in two lines on page 20 of Rolling Stone ("I wanted to be a drummer, play in a rock band, better than being a journalist and thinking that writing for Rolling Stone is a job" as Salmo reminded us a few years ago). Good reviews: almost everyone has praised Cremonini’s latest work, released November 29, 2024, from which five singles were drawn, the last of which in November 2025—that means "Alaska Baby" stayed in the charts for over a year (double platinum). So now I have to play the bad guy and talk about it, well, just fine.

I have nothing against Cremonini (I grew up with "Squérez", 1999, and for me it’s still his best album, even if it was under the name Lunapop), but solo Cremonini is a bit "heavy" for me. I mean, every album of his always has some good songs (which are almost never the singles—the singles are the catchier tracks), but there are plenty of totally evanescent tracks, those things you listen to, say "bho", skip to the next track and even forget you said "bho". "Alaska Baby" is packed with them; besides, it’s very long (58'). It’s an album in which, with extreme (very extreme) difficulty, Cremonini tries to bring together "young" music (electronic) and boomer music: tunz tunz and strings; computers and guitars. Thanks to a break after his triumphant live shows with "La ragazza del futuro" and a trip to the USA—Nashville, New York, Memphis, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, the island of Antigua and, naturally, Alaska—as recounted in the title track that even references Johnny Cash. An ambitious, very ambitious album, but here we’re in the territory of Jovanotti’s "L'albero", 1997, who, not content with Italian success, wanted to blend his music with world (as if he were Peter Gabriel) and recorded a long, boring album, at times even arrogant. Well, Cremonini (who, in terms of arrangement, is certainly better than Jova) makes the same sin of hubris: the desire to overdo is obvious from the first track "Nonostante tutto" (in collab with Elisa), which wants to be direct, catchy right from first listen, yet the overblown execution makes it forgettable in a matter of nanoseconds (I’m writing this review after listening to the album no more than an hour ago, and I have already completely forgotten half the tracks).

Just think, even Battisti, with "Il nostro caro angelo", had clear difficulties combining Italian sound with British, (but he was Battisti and pulled it off brilliantly). Poor Cremonini, although talented, is forced to succumb somewhat clumsily (I suggest listening to sly songs like "Un’alba rosa" or "Una poesia")—so much so that I’m surprised at some reviews that are as glowing as they are redolent of "ass-kissing". I’d like to know what Gianmarco Aimi of the (usual) Rolling Stone was listening to when he wrote that the album sounds like "brit pop, canzone d’autore, hypnotic grooves à la Beck and Beatles-inspired refrains" (the Beatles whom Cremonini copied even more in the past, see "Maggese", 2005) or Gianni Poglio from Panorama describing the album as "effectively capturing the craft of the artist." To me, it seems more like an ostentatious work, a bit empty at times, though I’d be unfair to deny some flashes of value. Of course, the smash hit "Ora che non ho più te" (the big hit that gave Cremonini the chart success he’d been chasing for years), but the standouts are two tracks at opposite ends: "San Luca" (anyone who knows Bologna understands its significance for the city), featuring Luca Carboni making his return after a long illness—great to hear him back in top form (and the very beautiful line "...Proprio oggi che era uscito il sole, mentre gli altri se ne vanno al mare, voglio stare da solo, così magari mi trovo" feels written for him)—and the playful "Il mio cuore è già tuo" with the glorious Meduza (I would also mention "Limoni", perhaps less amusing but lively enough).

So, with a cover as minimalist as minimalist gets (inspired by the Propylaea of the Brion Memorial in Altivole, Treviso), we get an album that's lovely to listen to, but much less lovely to absorb—lost (hopelessly) among a thousand flourishes, honeyed sweets typical of the "sweet tooth" side of Cremonini, and unexpected flashes that should teach "Cesarone" that too much is too much, and that, as the English say, Curiosity killed the cat. Let’s leave America alone: it’s way too overused (and today, for a thousand reasons, not even that loved—let’s stay in Italy, preferably Bologna, please. Oops, I meant—grazie.