EXIT
Dove Va la Tua Strada

THE REVIEW

There are albums that are born to belong to their own era, and others that seem to wait for the right moment to resurface. “Dove va la tua strada” by Exit undoubtedly belongs to the latter category: a fragment of the past that reemerges with the force of a vision left suspended for fifty years. The very history of this album has something novelistic about it. Rediscovered almost by chance, like a precious relic hidden within the folds of Trieste's musical memory, this LP is much more than a simple posthumous release: it is a restitution. An act of justice for a band that, even though they left no official traces at the time, already possessed a surprisingly mature sonic identity.

From the very first notes, there is a sense of expressive urgency reminiscent of the best Italian progressive rock of the early '70s. The atmospheres oscillate between the dark, theatrical tension typical of Spettri and the more intricate architectures of Rovescio della Medaglia, while certain guitar passages evoke the visionary energy of Garybaldi. But Exit never sound like a mere reflection of these influences: there is a raw, almost instinctive spontaneity that makes their sound alive, imperfect in the truest sense of the word. The restoration work on the tapes was fundamental, but it did not alter the original material. On the contrary, it allows every nuance to emerge: the scratch of Goran Tavčar's guitar, both elegant and visceral; Paolo Bassi's bass, able to move effortlessly between rock impulses and jazz sensitivity; Euro Cristiani's drums, dynamic and narrative, never relegated to mere accompaniment. It is an interplay that speaks of real musicians, with deep experiences and fully formed languages. “Dove va la tua strada” is not just a question posed to the listener, but seems to be the guiding thread of the entire record. The compositions move like irregular paths: sometimes restless, sometimes contemplative, always suspended between exploration and emotional drive. There is a sense of journey, of uncertain yet necessary direction, running through every track.

Listening to this album today is an almost disorienting experience: on one hand, you sense its belonging to an unrepeatable era; on the other, its freshness makes it incredibly relevant. It's like opening a window onto what Italian rock could have been, if certain stories had not remained buried for too long.

The vinyl release by Black Widow Records is not just a philological operation, but a true act of love for a scene and a sound that deserve to be rediscovered. And Exit, finally, find their way—and help us find ours.