Claudio Rocchi
Volo Magico N. 1

How far away the introductory notes of this album sound.

Far in space, an exotic and mysterious intertwining of tribal percussion and Middle Eastern strings... far in time, with that typical flavor of dishes cooked in the seventies, where every ingredient was a gift from the earth to man, to nourish and sustain him, like a great mother we have turned our backs on, convinced that we have become adults, and thus no longer in need of her attentions.

We can make it on our own... but this is a gigantic mistake, a delusion that the colorful lights of neon signs have caused to our inner gaze. "Volo Magico no. 1" gently but vigorously drags us through the labyrinths of ourselves, twisting in the mind like a snake and just like a reptile it insinuates itself into every nook and cranny of our thoughts, taking possession and transforming memories into a kaleidoscope of images and sensations, which you feared lost in the light of day, those typical sensations of the seventies, which even if you were a child you were lucky to experience, the sweetness of memories imprinted on Polaroids with those slightly faded colors (and very little glamour) that those years had. 18 fantastic minutes of pure psychedelic folk, fresh air that fills your lungs and also has the strength to shake your senses, striking your nerve strings like hammers striking the piano strings agitated by ebony and ivory keys that seem to yield under the frenzied blows inflicted by fingers that twirl madly in the air... in a breathtaking finale.

The same piano that softly and solitarily supports Claudio's voice, reminding us of how "La Realtà Non Esiste"; certainties that are fed to us everyday do not exist and not even our firmest convictions are that secure and durable; a touching and tender hippie poem, which will surely sound a bit naive (in the best of occasions) to the rational and "cold" listener of the new century, but which might offer him a moment of peace. And if you are still not satisfied with the emotions received, once you flip the record and place the needle in the groove, prepare your spirit for an out-of-body journey that one can truly begin only after shedding any conscious reasoning... "Giusto Amore" is an incredible lysergic suite, where Rocchi lets himself be carried away in this sudden explosion of words by the magical circularity of Alberto Camerini's guitar, words that are born, come to life in that studio, at that precise moment in 1971... impressed on tapes directly from the surely altered neurons of the Milanese artist, perhaps wanting to (un)consciously explain to his old Stormy Six companions the urgent reason for his departure... for his "betrayal" of the cause.

A visceral need to explore the more tortuous labyrinths of psychic unconsciousness compared to the safer and more valiant ones of rational consciousness (even class consciousness). But don't worry, maybe you won't find these topics in Rocchi's poetry, maybe you'll find exactly those thoughts you are so desperately searching for, surrendering your forces to the oblivion of sleep lulled by Claudio's voice as he whispers the most beautiful lullaby ever written for people who believe they have become adults, forgetting they were once children. "Tutto Quello Che Ho Da Dire".