Davide Van De Sfroos
Goga e Magoga

I will remember all my life the month of April two thousand fourteen.

Maybe – who knows? – thinking back to the night of Good Friday or the Easter lunch, I might remember that, in that same week, I also bought “Goga e Magoga”.

For now, I dance, until I have to let go; and wherever I fall, I will say I have flown.

This is not the first time I talk about Davide Van De Sfroos.

Either because he lives a stone's throw from my house; because his songs smell of lake and traditions; because, simply, he is damn good, the singer-songwriter from Como has been accompanying me for twenty years.

I have understood by now that his albums are released sparingly, one every three years; and if this ensures the quality that also pervades this latest chapter, the wait is well worth it.

Who leaves from time to time leaves a mark: like rings, hailstones, and underwear.*

“Goga e Magoga” – a biblical reference, present with ups and downs, futures and places that are not easily defined – is a splendid rosary of sixteen beads, not coincidentally divided equally between energetic tracks with a thousand inspirations – the Jethro Tulls of the beautiful “Mad Max”, the inevitable blues of “Il viaggiatore” – and intimate ballads. Among these last ones, the extraordinary “Il dono del vento” must be mentioned – the final track of every Van De Sfroos album is inspired by the muse of the wind, and often they are songs of piercing beauty – the melancholic “Crusta de platen” and the moving “Infermiera” forced to fight between the duties of her profession and an impossible love.

In this night where a thousand kill themselves, let me fall in love with one, let me fall in love with him: he opened his eyes and smiled; and even guessed my name.*

Sometimes sweet and dreamy, sometimes more restless "Omen", "Il re del giardino", "Colle Nero", "Figlio di ieri"; broader in scope the airy "Angel", "De me", "Cinema Ambra", sometimes painted by organ, sometimes by accordion; and if “Il calderon de la stria” is a kaleidoscopic mosaic of moods, feelings, and second thoughts (moreover, for months already part of the unmissable – take note – concerts of ours) and “Ki” is a brighter piece, although not very accessible and still full of questions, “Gira gira” is instead a carefree portrait among knick-knacks, film quotes, and human perplexities.

We're all a bit bipolar, with the ear on the shell to hear the crash of the sea; but when we're on the beach, finally in front of the sea, the shell on the ear is replaced by the cellphone.*

The most emblematic, powerful and original track of the album is, however, precisely the one that gives it its title, "Goga e Magoga", which also plays on the radio in a shortened version – this is the first time Van De Sfroos resorts to this solution. The track, played on the shadows of percussion and the laments of the violin, not lacking more lyrical moments and citations (for example, the extraordinary “Akuaduulza” of 2005), is an apocalyptic and disorienting ride on our times.

Goga e Magoga – if we spill some blood afterward it dries.

Goga e Magoga – everyone wants to bingo: shuffle!*

Although musically – except, as mentioned, for “Goga e Magoga”, there are no big innovations (which, at least as far as I'm concerned, is not necessarily a flaw), the arrangements are extremely well-cared for and sometimes reach astonishing levels: Davide’s musicians – including the loyal Anga Persico on violin and Maurizio Glielmo on guitar – are really talented. Also noteworthy is the beautiful voice of Leslie Abbadini, able to further enhance the tracks of this gem.

We wanted everything we didn’t have to look for everything we no longer had; and we fled from every place we arrived at to find another place to leave behind.*

I will remember all my life the month of April two thousand fourteen; and this is certain. But have I exaggerated in tone? Perhaps; but I am increasingly convinced that, right now, Davide Van De Sfroos is the best Italian songwriter.

He looks at the Grigna, the glass cries: let's order a prosecco.

* Translation from the Laghée dialect.