Claudio Baglioni
Solo

At the beginning of 1977, Claudio Baglioni releases his sixth album, "Solo". For the first time in his career, lyrics, music, and arrangements (which, in the two previous works, were respectively authored by the notable talents of Vangelis - E tu, 1974 and Bacalov - Sabato pomeriggio, 1975) are entirely written by him, except for the track "Gesù caro fratello", previously recorded in 1971 by Mia Martini, with lyrics signed by Franco Fabiano Tosi, while the music is by Baglioni himself and Antonio Coggio. And Antonio Coggio is the "great absentee" in this work, as he had been the co-author of almost all the music in Baglioni's previous albums. Besides, the artistic solitude is already hinted at by the album's title, which is also a kind of concept about loneliness in general. Even the cover, depicting the author against a black background illuminated by a red light, seems to allude to this aspect. The music in this work is very varied: classic ballads "alla Baglioni" ("Solo", a beautiful piano ballad accompanied by an orchestra; "Puoi?", with Fender and "symphonic" synth interventions, "Il pivot", between piano and electronics, "200 lire di castagne", somewhat in a stornello style but with a nice intertwining of piano and electric piano), electronic arrangements ("Gagarin", with a nice melodic effect as well), funk ("Romano male malissimo", also a bit bluesy, "Quante volte"), tropical and South American rhythms ("Nel sale, nel sole, nel sud"), folk ("Strip-tease"), and even a hint of prog, albeit in a "melodic-stornell-like-Romanesco" key ("Gesù caro fratello").

Even the lyrics are quite varied, although united, as mentioned, by the "thin thread" of solitude; certainly, the hyper-romantic songs, truly Baglioni's trademark, are not missing here: the title track first and foremost, but also "Puoi?". I confess to preferring these simple, yet honest and beautiful love songs to the more "experimental" tracks later composed by Claudio, perhaps tired of being called "the girls' poet". Even these two cited pieces, upon closer inspection, are very melancholic and "solitudinistic". But beyond love, many other topics are addressed in the lyrics, continuing the trend already seen in the previous "Sabato pomeriggio". "Gagarin" is dedicated to the famous Soviet aviator ("son of humanity"), the first man to fly into space in April 1961 at only 27 years old, aboard the Vostok 1. Naturally, the piece recounts that flight, starting from the outset (That April caught fire), but there are also references to his premature death, which occurred at just 34 years old in 1968 during a training flight ("I looked at it, I won't forgive myself”), referring to the Earth, and "my smile has gone away"), as well as what he "left" on Earth during his mission ("lies, vulgarities, slanders, wars, gas masks"): a beautiful piece. "Il pivot", a piece similar to "Gagarin" in its metrics, describes a casual encounter between a boy and an old basketball champion, a pivot indeed, in a suburban courtyard "with its smell of dinner and TV". The two improvise a ball exchange and, in the moment's suggestion, imagine stands filled with cheering crowds. But as soon as they return to harsh reality, solitude wraps around the boy, the pivot, and also the entire surrounding environment.

In "Nel sole, nel sale, nel sud", set in Rio De Janeiro, the song talks about a Brazilian taxi driver with "scars on his shoulders where wings will no longer grow back, a soul deep as the rivers down here", but despite everything "you see him dancing far away from here on rooftops, up, and there's a highway for his taxi, in the sun, in the salt, in the south", probably a reference to the Rio Carnival, as highlighted by the instrumental ending: there's a lot of "saudade" in this piece. In "Gesù caro fratello", sung in Romanesco, it criticizes humanity's perennial habit of using religion according to its own purposes and needs: "Gesù caro fratello, sold as a souvenir near the Colosseum or next to the President, dressed in jeans, with a rifle or in your name to kill people"; but hope is really the last to die: "We've waited for you, searched for you, called you, wanted you, believed in you. And we found you, rediscovered you in the eyes of those who hope, in the wrinkles of those who age, in holiday Sundays and in the pot of those who are alone, in the streets of those who drink, in the smiles of those who are crazy, in the little hands of those who are born and in the knees of those who are praying, in popular songs and in the hunger of those who are hungry. And it was like regaining sight after a thousand years, it was like discovering a lost path further in the dense woods": very beautiful and evocative images.

In "Quante volte", autobiographical and very lively musically as well as one of my favorite tracks in Baglioni's songbook, there is a sense of dissatisfaction with one's life and the ensuing anger: emblematic in this sense is the passage "spin, jump, and dance like a trained bear", probably referring (also) to his relationships with his record label at the time, which were far from idyllic; this piece, both musically and vocally, reminds me a lot of another Baglioni song, "Quanto ti voglio", contained in the album "Questo piccolo grande amore" from 1972. In "200 lire di castagne", it tells the monotony of a life in a factory and the protagonist's dream of "tearing off her gown and rolling down and uncovering her face with joy to stop sighing forever", a dream destined to remain just that: "a pale and sickly sun is her reality, tomorrow is a holiday, and finally, she can unwind a bit".

Even in apparently more cheerful songs in both music and lyrics, such as "Romano male malissimo" and "Strip-tease", solitude is always lurking. The first talks, with great irony, about a "real Roman" with very peculiar behaviors: "with uncertain hair and a whirl-wind gait, he ventures into the sea with a windbreaker over his slip; ten croissants every morning, five in one place, then changes bar"; or also "and he tells you his joke about the sheep born black and after an hour was lost, Roman with a big heart, pockets full of flowers". But then: "hey Roman, how are you? I'm doing terribly, Lucia Lucì, I'm so bad, I feel so bad Lucia.” It's clear that his eccentricity and peculiarity tend to isolate him from the more "normal" others. It seems that this piece is dedicated to a great friend of Baglioni who really existed. In the second piece as well, "Strip-tease", there is a lot of irony: in a kind of vaudeville, it talks about a nightclub and some of its patrons, such as "the statesman with dark glasses has already smoked half of a tobacconist’s, always confuses Sòfia with Sofìa", or even "there the colonel is always in the front row, maybe because of some eyesight issue; he is overweight and dying from inactivity". But here too, a sense of solitude and boredom is felt among all the characters, including the stripper: "revealing herself to dentures and décolletés was not exactly what she dreamed of".

For me, a more than good album both in music and lyrics, filled with excellent pop songs. Better alone than (badly) accompanied perhaps? Who knows! But already in his next work, "E tu come stai?" from 1978, Baglioni will return to collaborations after changing his record label from RCA to CBS.