Diaframma
Boxe

"I want to wait and lick my wounds under a sky of stars..." ("Boxe").

This is an important album, fundamental both for the future of Diaframma and for that of Italian rock, the album of Federico Fiumani's defeat and subsequent revenge, bare and essential, powerful and impactful, full of energy and anger. It is a CD still very listenable today, little affected by the passage of time, and all lovers of Italian rock should listen to it, perhaps not stopping at the first listening: it makes you unleash, shout and dance, but also reflect, sing and be moved.

"Boxe", released in the distant 1988, is the group’s third work and was intended to be the last published by Italy's leading indie label of the time, the Florentine IRA of the "hated" Pirelli, who increasingly focused on Litfiba. However, Fiumani, with great courage, after tumultuous periods, pulls himself out and decides to self-produce, inventing Diaframma Records.

The album, enhanced by a splendid black and white cover with Federico as a boxer and Miro Sassolini as a manager, is the most original and genuine of Diaframma, reminiscent of the now distant New Wave of Siberia ("Un temporale in campagna") and close to those of the future. The tracks, all of significant depth, fluctuate between direct and electric rock, frantic and edgy, and the delicate, the melodic, enriched and characterized by Sassolini's distinctive voice, here at the peak of his virtuosity. The album contains ten gems like the reggae "Marta" or the pianistic "Caldo", the last track, a true masterpiece of Italian songwriting, featuring Fiumani on vocals for the first time and thus closing the album, foreshadowing Diaframma's future and imminent career: shortly thereafter, "Gennaio" arrived, Diaframma had changed, but it was a beautiful surprise...

"Boxe because it contains struggle, charm, a sense of precariousness, the desire for redemption from a messed-up life, a deep sense of loyalty and humanity" (Federico Fiumani).

"I want to wait
and lick my wounds
under a starry sky.
But if the heart I feel is sick
because the bruises are in the soul
you come to dry them.... you come to dry them.

Tomorrow it won't be up to me anymore to keep my arms raised
and scrape myself on the ropes.
Tomorrow if I seek you,
I will have the face of a clean man
fresh as a rose
and a rose cannot wither.

When the right fist exploded
in my head maybe
it never started above a ring,
when the right fist exploded
on my skin perhaps...
I have too many enemies in this city
too many ghosts clog the night,
I have too many enemies in this city.
Too many ghosts at night....
too many ghosts at night.

I want to remove the bandages quickly
and feel the cold of mother-of-pearl-colored oceans.
The strength of my ideas
has the strength of a punch in the face
to those who have denied them to me,
has the strength of a harder fight
and an even greater charm
than two boxing gloves...
than two boxing gloves..." ("Boxe")