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Rating:
This album could and should have been a masterpiece. Unfortunately for Francesco De Gregori, it is not. Because, alongside an incisiveness in the lyrics that perhaps Francesco had never reached before, there is a counterbalance of music that is not very convincing, with an overabundance of arrangements where the rawness of the themes addressed would have worked better with sparser and less pompous arrangements.
Not that the songs aren’t beautiful; in fact, they are, but it was demonstrated during live performances, often with fewer embellishments and less frills, how these songs have a decidedly rock cut, something that was not sufficiently highlighted on the record.
For example, “Bambini Venite Parvulos” which opens the album, has been replayed live in “Fuoco Amico” and the result is decidedly superior, a powerful attack on consumerism that certainly doesn't need polished arrangements.
On “Miramare”, another inherently beautiful track, I don't know to what extent that sticky keyboard was necessary. Fortunately, Francesco saves the piece with a splendid harmonica.
“Dottor Dobermann” is an upbeat track that talks about those charming doctors who secretly perform illegal abortions and publicly act as conscientious objectors. Here too, however, the arrangement is unconvincing and even he sings very heavy and direct verses as if he is joking.
“Cose” is the salvation of the album, probably the only true gem of the record with music that flows pleasantly, featuring a great interpretation by Francesco, attentive to capturing the nuances and chiaroscuro of the text.
Another track with a lot of “polemic vis” is “Pentathlon”, I would feel awful if I were the one the track is directed at, as it is so full of spite and rancor (“Tu non mi piaci nemmeno un poco e grazie al cielo io non piaccio a te””), but even here, if the arrangement had been a bit harder, there wouldn't have been any harm.
Not bad, instead, is “300.000.000 Milioni di Topi”, a light ballad, a track that talks about rats as a symbol of the rot in today’s society, or, considering that we have to deal with certain shady characters, we might as well get to know these animals.
“Vento dal Nulla” speaks of fear and hopes, of northerly winds that pass and sweep everything away. The work by Elio Rivagli on the drums is beautiful.
“Carne di Pappagallo” suffers from the flaw of much of the album, where, while the lyrics speak of toil, sweat, and sacrifice, the music is overly polished, unfortunately.
The album closes with a song in the style of “La Storia”, it should have been just voice and piano “Lettera da un Cosmodromo Messicano”, but the whole thing is ruined by a rain of truly unnecessary keyboards.
Too bad, it really could have been a great album.
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