Fedez
Paranoia Airlines

It happens, not infrequently, that by trying to do too much, you end up doing nothing. That's the case with Fedez. First a rapper for young girls, then a judge on a talent show branded Sky, then the husband of the most famous influencer of all time, and finally a politician, or supposed one, in his spare time. In between, a thousand controversies, Instagram stories, photos and videos of his son broadcasted everywhere and in every direction, a spokesperson for more or less marketable products, actor, producer, former friend of J-Ax, and author of a rather famous YouTube channel. And this year, "Mille," indeed.

Now, you can well understand that releasing even remotely decent albums amidst all that chaos is difficult. Especially if you no longer have ideas, assuming you ever had one before. And so, here comes the flop of a lifetime, the kind from which you recover only with a bit of luck and a Lamborghini in the garage, "Paranoia Airlines."

Our guy turns to introspection and creates an album where he would like to tell his own story, but in the process of self-storytelling, he no longer knows which direction to strike from.

The start is exemplary, "Prima di ogni cosa" is the song dedicated to his son Leone. In fact, as a lullaby, it would even be passable. Immediately sold to a well-known phone brand, just to use the little heir before he could understand anything about it. Then a series of very short songs where he collaborates with Zara Larsson, Tedua and Trippie Redd, Annalisa, Emis Killa, LP, and the Dark Polo Gang.

"Fuckthenoia" is the rambling of a young, rich, and bored person who, like all young, rich, and bored individuals, could go play golf; "Record" is a demonstration of how not to use one's voice in a chorus; "Così" is a memory of when he was a poor teenager, complete with beatings taken on the 91; and in "Buongiornissimo," he attempts a social satire attack, but it's very trivial. The rest, from "Sfregi e difetti" to "Cosa senza spine," is a mix of first-year high school level lyrics and musicality that distances itself from pure rap, diving into semi-teen pop suitable for those who settle for less.

Only two episodes are worth saving, the smoky semi-rap of "Che cazzo ridi" ("Here to get hired you have to transform into antidepressants," the most beautiful line of the entire album) and the crude "TVTB" that attacks censorship, albeit with overly vulgar tones.

They are two sparks, and that's it. The rest is the album of a guy who has completely abdicated his discographic role and who, at only 30, already has nothing more to say. It happens.