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Rating: I had been browsing DeBaser for a while and noticed that, although it was released about a month ago, Francesco Renga's new album, "Ferro e Cartone", was not appearing on the list of the latest reviewed albums.
Obviously, there's nothing heretical about this; however, I decided to proceed with reviewing this latest work of his, perhaps also driven by the fact that Renga was present in my CD player for much of my early adolescence.
Around May, I read that an unreleased single by Renga would soon be published, and in October (an evident record company ploy), the album containing the said track would be released.
This led to growing curiosity and anticipation in me to discover how the singer had set up the post-Camere con vista, an album that had great commercial success but, pour moi, marked the lowest point in the Brescia artist's discography ("Solo" is the only well-tuned note in an at times shamelessly predictable sweetness).
"Cambio direzione": well-produced sound, at times feels plastic, too urbano - allow me the term; lyrics: simplistic but ultimately a shift from the sweetness present in Camere con Vista. Despite being curious, the song found a reevaluation within me by September, after 3 months since its release and almost at the end of its radio rotations.
Thus, after a few autumn days, Francesco Renga's fourth solo album is published: Ferro e Cartone (preceded by the release of the book "Come mi viene" written by Renga himself).
I listen to it. From the first notes, it is clear that there is a different main theme in the album compared to his last work. If before it was passionate love, now fragility (re)dominates. This term is reductive. Specifically, I would say that the album mainly traverses the issues that a man, a father, is forced to endure in today's society; the title itself aims to metaphorize the search for balance between moments of veiled security (iron) and moments of pure weakness (cardboard). It resembles the Renga of Tracce, the one who invoked the place "Where the world no longer exists", or filled himself with bitterness and harmless dismay in grand songs like "Stavo seduto".
"...e puoi gridare farlo a pezzi ma nessuno ti aiuterà e come una foglia cadrà, preda dei venti...". In phrases like these, the main theme of the album is clear. Like a leaf that falls without any help, a man in his fragility must find the strength to react and, above all, not fall.
I consider this a good album, certainly superior to Camere con Vista. The sound is typically "rengano" (for voice & piano lovers, there is a limited edition available with nine of the eleven tracks rearranged, and where Renga's voice is further emphasized), partially comparable to the second album.
Among the eleven songs, my favorite is "L'uomo che ho immaginato", which, in terms of lyrics, closely resembles the early Renga that I valued the most.
An album that's not essential but worthy of at least a bit of attention in a record market, which, without the internet, would now be truly embarrassing. Ultimately, the album is proof that Renga is no longer the one just out of Timoria; perhaps, however, he is still capable of offering something beautiful.
"...In un istante per mille volte sarei l'uomo che ho immaginato..."
Tracklist
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