Diaframma
Gennaio

There's a killer guitar riff that sticks in your head, somewhere between punk and new wave. There's a drum that slowly builds up, a hell of a bass line, then the piece stops, and a voice somewhere between rough and crazy yells:

“Parte dei soldi li spesi in assoluta allegria,
quella stessa con cui li avevo guadagnati”.

On the cover, there's a man running down via Calzaioli, still with an air between rough and crazy.
It was 1989.

Until then, Fiumani had always been the guitarist of a band. A guitarist, skilled, extreme, noisy, very good and not at all technical. Three and a half albums to his credit, a decent underground success. And he had always written everything himself. The fact that there was someone else singing those pieces he felt so personally connected to made him angry. So in 1989, against all odds and even against himself, he made one of the gestures that makes him unique and unrepeatable in the Italian music scene. He had already said goodbye to those of his historic label; he fired everyone from the previous band, called new people, dug into his personal savings, rented a day in the studio, and recorded four immediate, punk, inspired, beautiful tracks. And most importantly, he sang them himself. Singing from the gut, with his throat, with the looming heart attack, without knowing how but with guts to have. Off-key, stumbling, struggling, ignoring metrics, without finesse. And when at the end of the anthem-piece he shouts with all the breath in his lungs “GENNAIO! GENNAIO! GENNAIOOOO!” maybe you don't know why, you don't understand it, but you scream with him, and it seems that this liberating shout vents everything that's been kept secret inside you for years. And finally comes to light, and can no longer be pushed back inside.
GENNAIO!!!!! Damn, GENNAIOOOOO!
And anyway, “nessun senso di colpa, non è importante per me. Tu non stare in pensiero, è solo un finto cuore”

Then he made ten thousand other records (the latest, “Donne mie” comes out these days), learning to sing and even holding back a little (not too much, but a little, yes). But damn, that shout alone is worth a lifetime of hardships.