Diaframma
Niente Di Serio

The Diaframma concert. You go, because Fiumani is always Fiumani. You go, so you buy the new record. You go, because it's still a concert. You go, as if it were apathy. And then you start jumping, running, asking for a cigarette even if you don't smoke. You tremble because it's already midnight and he's not on stage yet. And then he arrives. Jumps, strikes a pose, smiles if you go wild with him and shout "Un Giorno Balordo" before he can sing it. It’s not enough for you: you want more, you want to put his new record in the car. Re-listen to it, shout it, risk an accident. There's always something that leaves you breathless and at the same time wanting to shout more.

It seems insignificant, "Niente di Serio," just like his album covers seem ugly. Dieter Meier was a master in that aspect. The Diaframma album covers seem ugly: they are the objects of present humanity or Fede's states of mind. This time we go back to the Scapigliati. Giacomo Favretto, "Il Sorcio." They seem ugly, unsettling, but the Scapigliati never joked around. Neither does Fede. Fiumani is very serious when he plays, he is very serious when he writes. He is very serious because in what he does, there is him, you can't joke with yourself. You have to give it your all. And the listener has to do the same: can't sit, can't be indifferent. No, it's the energetic punch of rock that drives us to prefer our artists' records. At any moment, a special riff, a guitar solo, a memorable phrase can come. At any moment. It's like making love: intense, visceral, a bit raw and damn sincere. Otherwise, we look for other things, we tell ourselves lies or sociological analyses: You talk to me of Rocco Siffredi as the idol of the new feminists. It takes two: one who listens, the other who plays. Someone who desires, someone else who gives in. Come here, I know I'm fat but I'm losing my mind. Hey, don't be afraid of me... and I'm singing it to you. Fiumani is not alone, just as we are not alone in important moments. Lorenzo Moretto has been playing with him for many years, his dream would probably be to do rhythmic section with Les Claypool (in the '90s he played songs inspired by Primus). He is a loyal follower of Fede, he also takes care of the album artwork. He is fierce with the drums, rock. There is Luca Cantasano, who by day runs a psychiatric hospital. At night he plays wearing “Star Wars” or "The Godfather" t-shirts. They play well: they weave the lyrics, accompany the guitar. Everything is more beautiful. Maybe it's the recording studio. 

When you buy "Niente di Serio" you'll realize that there is something new in the air. Despite everything, there is always room for beautiful things, well done, real and without hiding the flaws. To fall in love instantly. It’s not a perfect record, in the strict musical sense. It is a perfect record, in the highest sense of things. And in the heart of the Ultras. But you know, Ultras support goes beyond defeats and disappointments. And when the good days return, you celebrate even more. They haven't been good days for me: things exploded in my hands and hit me like a punch in the face. I’m still hanging on the ropes. Only you can lift me. Mother Superior, with glasses I like you even more. Lift me, give me a kiss, let's go to bed. Here's what I haven't done. A dream in the heart: sperm in the eye. I won’t try to be Fiumani: I will try to love you as Fiumani loves Women and Music. 

Thank you Fede. A fan of yours aspiring to become an Ultra. Who knows if I will ever be a man one day