Filippo Gatti
Tutto sta per cambiare

I remember it was 1996, but I don't remember the day; I remember I was alone in the car listening to Radio Rock, as always. I remember the day was passing by without much thought when suddenly a song burst out of the speakers that made my blood stop.
It was "Balena," the debut single of a group from Rome, Elettrojoyce. Cruel and sweet, melancholic and angry like few others, Elettrojoyce released a series of three auteur albums within four years, perfect albums that gave me goosebumps. Albums that were sadly underrated, discovered by only a few lucky ones, and I was among them. Trilogy of the dense, cultured, cruel, and rough Italian auteur rock, rain rock, words that hurt the heart, raw phrases, rock for adults, for grown-ups, for those with a strong stomach, rock to be listened to at night, when it's cold, around Rome.
Then the story ends, a really short story despite its intensity. Andre Salvati, pianist and writer, left the group to try new paths and flew away. Elettrojoyce tried to survive supported by the charisma of the remaining leader but then, after the last splendid gift titled "Illumina" in 2000, they decided to say goodbye and disappear into nothingness.

The remaining leader is named Filippo Gatti and in life, he knows how to do nothing but play and write, and he does it brilliantly. He takes some time, looks around, looks inside himself, gathers some ideas, and gathers himself, and after a few years, decides to come back to be heard.
His solo debut "Tutto sta per cambiare" was released in 2003 and is an extraordinary new confirmation.
The album has the strength of things written for the sake of writing, it's an album that doesn't need an audience, success, or feedback; it's an album that doesn't care, that is sufficient in itself. Filippo Gatti made an album for himself, to put into music what he had to say or say to himself. It feels like hearing something secret, music born behind the closed door of a room that could have easily stayed there without ever coming out and it would have been splendid anyway.
The album is dense, magnetic, reflective, and soft. It keeps you hypnotized from start to finish with its gentle but unstoppable progress; it travels alone but doesn't let you get distracted.

It starts with an incredible track titled "Kaya," just piano and voice, 2 and a half minutes, three perfect phrases including the announcement EVERYTHING IS ABOUT TO CHANGE and at the end the advice REMEMBER, DON'T TAKE WHAT YOU CAN'T LEAVE BEHIND...
The rest is an extraordinary album to listen to, not to tell. Sound perfectly curated, minimalist and sparse yet enveloping and velvety, lyrics never trivial capable of gifting gems of sincere introspection where perhaps we all see a bit of ourselves in the end.
Track number 6 "La memoria libera" is remarkable where suddenly Bruno Lauzi's voice emerges in a melancholic and harsh rock ballad, suspended in time, truly chilling. "Pandora" and the subsequent "Requiem per i grandi numeri" are outstanding, the latter dark and cruel about the inability to communicate.
Everything ends with these words 1 LIFE IS PAIN, 2 PAIN IS FOR DESIRE, 3 PAIN CAN BE CURED, 4 TELL ME HOW TO DO IT... I CAN WAIT, UNTIL IT'S GONE AWAY.
All that remains is to thank you once again Filippo, I, who have never known you but never lost sight of you from the first moment I encountered you. I, who was motionless at your concerts, with my eyes closed, while everyone was jumping and shouting, I who have worn out your records when I was twenty-two and then, growing up, I got lost in them.
Thank you again, truly.

P.S. Unfortunately, the album is almost impossible to find, but try, it's worth it.