Diaframma
3 Volte Lacrime

“The psychologist says that in such a life even such a great pleasure takes a back seat”. Poor Fiumani, finally his diaphragmatic creature has taken off and already things are going wrong. “You don’t play because no one wants you”. Thank you, Anne Marie, without you who knows where we'd be now.

The story of Diaframma is the story of their father-master. Tormented the lider maximo, tormented the group. “Out of the picture” even the Cicchi brothers, good Federico is now the only survivor of the original lineup and given the results achieved, evidently, the two were not so indispensable. No harm done, then. In with the new Braccini and Raimondi, excellent helpers. The idea of Diaframma as a real band is now falling apart: the cover photo is reserved for Fiumani and Sassolini only. Replicating the success (underground, mind you) of that gem “Siberia” would have been difficult for anyone. Great expectations, from the press, the record label, the fans, themselves. In the end, here we are: “Tre volte lacrime”, 1986. And the “miracle” (see: inspiration) repeats itself. Fiumani is fluid, writes well, and music and lyrics flow like never before. Sassolini plays with that tenor voice that only he has with mastery and charm. The entire album “flows”: certain naïvetés of the debut are now behind, that “bleakness at all costs” (who said Joy Division?) is now distant. If “Siberia” was a collection of “winter vignettes”, “Tre volte lacrime”, despite the title, appears more sunny, more positive. Or at least these are the sensations when listening to it. Perhaps it's due to the music, with rhythmic tracks that are the children of the punk so loved by the group, or perhaps it's the lyrics. Ian Curtis and company are increasingly distant, that umbilical cord linking the Florentines to the Anglo-Saxon models seems to be weakening more and more, making way for more personal, more “Italian” forms of expression. Away with the dark and new wave, then, here the reference points are the pop music of the Sixties and Seventies. Each track is a small piece of Italian rock history, a piece that composes a perfect and unrepeatable figure. Magnificent.

“Tre volte lacrime” opens the album: melancholic, sad, Sassolini's voice is stentorian, the understanding with Fiumani is perfect, as if they were “companions” for a lifetime and not just three years. “Ho veramente vissuto”: the liberating scream of “Grafico deposit” is equal to that of “Gennaio”, even if that will be a very different discographic and artistic story. Here and there echoes the “ghost” of “Siberia”, but it's only for a moment, Fiumani now looks (and writes) with his heart elsewhere. “Falso amore” is as heartrending as it is beautiful: it seems trivial but it is so. That underlying malaise that marked the early Diaframma is still there, but this time there is also the will to rise again, to overcome the trauma. The “Siberia of feelings” seems far away: there is light at the end of the tunnel. With “Libra”, a punk song softened by Miro's performance, we return to 1977: “beat the future if it doesn’t belong to you”. “No future” in Florentine sauce nine years late: better late than never. “Oceano”, embellished by the keyboards of some anonymous session musician, is an anthem. Served to a Ligabue or the most vulgar Vasco Rossi, it would have filled stadiums, here instead we have to “settle” for an Arci club. But Fiumani's pieces are like this: they are “too” much his, in someone else's mouth they would be out of tune, they wouldn't be the same, they would lose all their credibility. And perhaps this is one of the reasons that pushed him in 1989 to continue alone, without “intermediary” singers. Miro may have also been Federico's “voice of the soul”, but someone like him does not accept compromises, even if they are with the greatest of friends. He simply cannot. “Spazi immensi”: “a bent child mating with the land”. Fiumani's neo-sensitivism never ceases to amaze, too bad that subsequent works will rarely reach these levels. “Marisa Allasio”, an actress from the Sixties evidently so dear to Fiumani, has a dreamy manner. With “Madre” and “Hypocratès” we return to the “Amsterdam” EP: the new wave does not let go. The edition reviewed here is enriched by various demos, including that of the unreleased “Speranza”. Nothing transcendental but it is always a pleasure.

Diaframma: another album, another masterpiece. “You don’t play because no one wants you”: and perhaps this should make us reflect. Or maybe it's just confirmation that stuff like this can only remain the prerogative of a few “chosen” connoisseurs. And perhaps it's even better this way.

Lineup:

Federico Fiumani: guitar

Miro Sassolini: voice

Leandro Braccini: bass

Alessandro Raimondi: drums, backing vocals

Tracklist:

1. Tre volte lacrime

2. Grafico deposit

3. Falso amore

4. Libra

5. Oceano

6. Spazi immensi

7. Marisa Allasio

8. Madre

9. Hypocratès

10. Autoritratto (demo)

11. Speranza (demo)

12. Libra (demo)

13. Spazi immensi (demo)

14. Madre (demo)

15. Tre volte lacrime (demo)