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Rating: Pick me
I’ll be your fresh fruit
Eat me
Until I satisfy you
Etched in the heart of every music-loving enthusiast are the words that open 'Sbucciami', a cornerstone album in Malgioglio's discography. Prince of the Italian gay movement, transformed into a gay icon through a metamorphosis that saw him as a radiant curly-haired youth first, later a wise television commentator with a blonde tuft, Cristiano Malgioglio remains one of the figures who still today arouses the greatest curiosity. Yes, exactly curiosity. Because how many know that the master has also written songs? Not just for himself, but for others too? It's unimaginable how many songs this illustrious man (?) has written for other singers, to the point of wondering how on earth he managed to write them himself. Yes, dear reader, because your favorite songs might have been written by him, unbeknownst to you.
But let's frame the context a little. 1979, Pierangelo Bertoli was hitting the world with 'A muso duro', Dalla with his namesake album was at the peak of his success, De André collaborates with PFM, Faust'O, to the joy of Iside, records something with sugar. Meanwhile, in the worst corners of Italy, a young man with Maradona's hair and a strong erotic charge inside was developing what would be a 'time bomb,' between trash and sexy music. Fishnet stockings, leopard thong, and bra. This is not the outfit of an escort, but the key elements that come to mind when listening to the aforementioned album, filled with so much eroticism that it makes you touch your private parts. Yes, because to the rhythm of the title track it is difficult to keep your hands away from your reproductive organ, whether male or female. We are clearly talking about 'Sbucciami', which already suggests quite a few things from the title. The succession of nearly Petrarchan verbs includes the following: Pick me, Eat me, Melt me, Hunt me, Use me, Drink me, Carry me, Play me. And if these are not enough to ignite the fire inside, the captivating chorus takes care of that by giving that touch of sexual unpredictability and obscene mystery (I will crush you, I will give myself to your nights/ I will tear you, I will wreck you, I will exhaust you), up to the phrase repeated several times, to the point of turning into a slogan of free love, as passion dictates 'And if an hour is all you need, peel me... And I will sweeten your mouth'.
A song that is a punch in the face towards the cages of passion and general bigotry, where the blonde tuft untangles itself masterfully, assuming the role of a liberating prophet. Starting in a manner similar to Trony's advertisement (there are no comparisons), another monumental piece, 'Io, la pantera', in which Malgy identifies with the animal that best represents his desire for transgressiveness, the big black one, not to fall into the base double entendre. Through what can be defined as a poetic metaphor, the Malgioglio-panther image is certainly a 'key' point of the album. Just like a panther, what our narrator details is certainly an erotic game, made in the strangest of ways (guns and whips), but advocating absolute freedom (Ah, if I were the panther of the sky/ I would color it all truly pink). The adjective 'black' is audible several times, and it may not be just the color of the animal. An invitation to express one's desires in a vortex of passion, precisely with that person you long to do it with but lack the courage, precisely through a concept dear to Cristiano, namely the Horatian carpe diem. And that's exactly what our narrator desires, but, it pains to say, he refuses to use in another track, 'Ernesto', a sweet ballad narrating a difficult homosexual love (Ernesto, how much agony to say 'I love you,' and that's what scares me/ Ernesto, how hard it is to care for you). Crumbs of simplicity scattered here and there, absolutely assimilable to the point of being repeated endlessly, like 'Ernesto, I dress up for you', with a monstrous simplicity and effectiveness, enough to be worth even the entire discography of some small prog band. But it's 'M'arrapa l'idea', that enters the listener's mind indelibly, with that alluring refrain and that between-the-lines erotism, representing all that excites us to the point of making us hot, de fuego, stripped of any prejudicial clothing and with a disarming sincerity (M'arrapa l'idea of coming with you/ M'arrapa l'idea of making love with you/ M'arrapa l'idea of playing with gays/ Giving you to him, to leave you with him). A rock 'n' roll progression brings the song to a final explosion worthy of the best hardrockist brawlers of the time, coined by the phrase shouted by Malgy's never tired uvula 'Give me space, and I'll make a rocket come out of your eyes!
The pressure is through the roof, the blood boils in the veins. The hands are uncontrollable, they do everything on their own. The erotic charge does the rest, the mind has a fixed thought. Sweat drips from the forehead, the listening severely disturbs the listener, causing them pleasure at the limits of orgasmic, regardless of their sexual orientation, never questioned by the singer-songwriter. Grab your girl, go to your trusty escort, or yes, go for a solo round. Listening to this album works better than Viagra.
I leave the floor to you, dear pigro1997
And the body is like a free fall where everything seems possessed by a demon, that enchants and flogs you at the same time. With an enticing belly dance style intro, begins the sensual and charming "Orientale", in which the Sicilian singer-songwriter narrates a tormented yet desired love that grips and envelops him completely (Oriental, this love/ Oriental calls me, oriental the lance that torments/ Oriental, how I love him/ If I see him I hug him, if he leaves me I kill myself, I kill myself). What appears is a Malgioglio completely bare of any reserve of modesty, intent on playing continuously on that thin balance of poetic metaphor (which is a refrain throughout the album, first with the image of the "panther" and now with "oriental"), as a manifestation of a discomfort towards a devouring and overbearing reality (It's an idea to leave from here/ There's nothing wonderful, no). A solemn and mammoth cry of liberation from any form of imprisonment, breaking chains and tearing down walls, through an introspective and personal journey characteristic of Malgioglio's poetics.
But our evergreen doesn't stop astonishing. When the listener thinks they've savored all the emotional scales of the album, they encounter the ultimate masterpiece of the entire work of the Sicilian lyricist: "Mentre fuori piove". A track that involves and shreds you without any filter, it hits you straight in the heart with an expressive force that leaves the listener stunned and without the strength to react. A mesmerizing effect sought by Malgioglio, and achieved, as only great artists know and can do. And equally evident are the artistic contaminations present in this piece; an understated, melancholic start, sustained only by the flowing notes of a piano (We are without ideas/ To spend this long evening well, while it rains outside), which automatically recalls the poetic sensibility typical of Renato Zero, only to flow into the fantasy and theatricality characteristic of Leopoldo Mastelloni (I feel your shoulders/ Warm as snow/ I put a flower in my mouth, while it rains outside). It's a melancholy and sweet advancement, liberating and oppressive, cathartic and restrictive. On one hand, there is the desire to terrify those packaged ethics and morals from a reactionary and outdated society, thus becoming a symbol of natural yet necessary transgression, on the other, there is the persistence of a cage that halts and confines him in his intent. That inquietude and sentimental as well as existential discomfort, leads him to be a modern example of the torment of the wise Seneca.
"Sbucciami", therefore, if you haven't done so yet, is an album to savor, devour, consume. To keep as a relic of a bygone era that, unfortunately, will be late to return or, even worse, will never return again.
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