After the solo venture with the partially disappointing "Donne Mie", Federico Fiumani revives the Diaframma brand that has already granted him rock immortality and presents us with twelve new songs.
No one expects a change in sound anymore (and why should they?), nor that he renews himself after over 25 years of career, he who in the early days was one of the first to combine rock language with the Italian language and is rightly considered the father of songwriter rock. Knowing and appreciating his talent, his skills, we expect at least a handful of beautiful songs, perhaps always sung with the usual irreverence and played-recorded not quite as one would expect from an artist of his caliber, but at least to gift us with some emotion, as almost always happens when listening to a Fiumani album.
"Camminando.." makes me breathe a sigh of relief in this regard, after having had the impression with his latest work that he was approaching a workmanlike and boring way of handling his material, almost complacent of an original and inimitable style but which precisely for this needs "real" creativity to renew itself in continuity. Of course, we are far from the masterpieces "Gennaio" or "In perfetta solitudine" and the trail is the one undertaken with the last Diaframma branded CD, "vol.13": paroxysmal solipsism, assorted vulgarities in the lyrics (and here I didn't understand his -intention-) injected by beautiful lyrical glimpses that only he can provide. From a musical point of view, there is a good deal of old school punk rock which marks the most noteworthy novelty, and it's a pity that, as usual, the sound performance is not at its best, limiting the impact and potential of a perfect hit single like "Questo Ragazzo", one of my favorite tracks. More fragmented than "Vol.13" precisely due to pleasant angry digressions that he wisely often inserts at the tail end of the pieces like in "Tu fai cantare forte il motore", which properly opens the album.
Then there's the hilarious "Andrea torna al rock", an explicit invitation to Andra Chimenti to abandon the boredom of the "high" song to return to the antics of bass-guitar-drums like his buddy does. "Io, si proprio io" seems to have come out of a De Gregori record from the 70s and is the most touching moment of an album that entertains a lot but moves somewhat so-so.
Luxury entertainer, yes, but he had accustomed us to something else. Take it or leave it? I always take his CD.
Tracklist
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