Gazebo Penguins
Raudo

"Raudo" is an album that garnered a lot of attention last year, in truth, even for reasons that go beyond the music itself and delve into the human aspect and the right to critique.

The sharp criticism from Ondarock followed by an immediate venomous reply with personal insults directed at the reviewer by the band did not go unnoticed in the world of webzines and blogs and sparked an interesting debate on who was right, complete with opposing factions.

Here, we will simply note how the web has now become the true music press accessible to anyone who wants to express their thoughts freely, with a target audience that also includes the bands themselves, who, however, should accept criticism or respond appropriately.

But closing this parenthesis, let us now talk about "Raudo," which follows the acclaimed "Legna" from 2011 and continues the artistic partnership with To Lose La Track.

There has been talk of choral bursts and more direct sound, but truth be told, for better or worse, they are always the usual Penguins balancing between abrasive distortions and vocal harmonies that serve as a backdrop to lyrics evoking snapshots of life that mirror an age which for some is current, for others a history relegated to almanacs.

The boredom, the wait, the crescendo of "Finito il caffè" with its “I counted the days away from you and took at least an hour from each day...” repeated in unison has the makings of an anthem and is indeed promoted to a single, less emotionally overwhelming but on the same wavelength are “Casa dei miei” and “Difetto.” The band's hardcore spirit emerges in "Domani è gennaio" and "Ogni scelta è in perdita" where the atmosphere becomes less playful and more pissed off.

Scrolling through the tracklist, we find another big shot and another single/video: “Trasloco,” which with its old photos manages to evoke something personal, followed closely by “Mio nonno.” “Correggio” is the only stop at a traffic light, a deep well moment of pure nostalgia before the turbo kicks in with the final double: the self-ironic “Non morirò” with those last ten seconds you wish would last at least three times as long and “Piuttosto bene” with the title repeated to exhaustion as if it were a mantra, a self-conviction, a remedy for them, for us, as if to say believe in it, that we believed in it and have come this far.