Gianna Nannini
Puzzle

Having become, somewhat suddenly and perhaps unintentionally, a diva in Germany (and subsequently in Switzerland and Austria), at the start of the 1980s she was, in every respect, the only international star that Italy could boast in the musical field (apart from Mina, of course). What made her explode across half of Europe was "Latin Lover" (1982), an album produced by Conny Plank in his studios in Cologne (a man who worked with Ultravox and Eurythmics, not exactly small potatoes) and who knew the sound of the '80s very well, a mix of new wave and rock with sweeping melodies. And yet, to this day, that's the real problem with albums produced by Plank: they sound incredibly dated, '80s "sound" as if there were no tomorrow, blasting synthesizers, exaggerated or, most of the time, unnecessary vocal distortions. Listen to "Puzzle," the record that would definitively consecrate Nannini: it feels like plunging into a faraway era, almost Jurassic in distance.

"Puzzle" sold very well; in Italy it was the second best-selling album (only beaten by Vasco's live "Va bene, va bene così"), it reached no.1 in Germany, also in Switzerland, and in Austria it was in the top 5. It contains 8 songs; if I list them for you, try to name one other than "Fotoromanza": "Kolossal"; "L'urlo"; "Siamo ricchi"; "Ciao"; "Fiesta"; "Ballami"; "Se vai via." Can you recall any of those, right away? No, neither can I. In fact, the whole album revolves around the famous "Mi telefoni o no, mi telefoni o no?" which boasted a hugely famous video directed by Michelangelo Antonioni (who, in 1982, was no longer the Antonioni of his golden years, but it's like if Vasco could list a video by Fellini on his résumé—Antonioni and Fellini are still Antonioni and Fellini). The video, in the burgeoning age of the music video, was everywhere, and the song genuinely worked.

“Fotoromanza? With producer Conny Plank we spent a week in a cottage to find the right rhythm. We moved like baby elephants, sort of similarly, the whole body together” (Gianna Nannini)

"[...] In reality "Fotoromanza" was a song that was more pop than rock: to be precise, it was a song with particularly refined electronic sounds, which the expertise of the German producer Conny Plank managed to bring to excellence" (Dario Salvatori)

The whole lexical arsenal that made up the rather hefty chorus (the gas chamber, the hotel bomb, the poisoned ice cream) also worked. Critics mercilessly panned the Antonioni-directed video (which, to be fair, is debatable since it is excessively didactic), but the song soared up the charts, won the Festivalbar, Vota la Voce, and everything else that could be won (except Sanremo). However, Nannini would not recall this period fondly, as she would tell Repubblica in 2001:

"[...] "Fotoromanza" arrived after the darkest period of my life. Terrible months. I had regressed. I lost my mind, I was traveling in other dimensions. A crazy breakdown [...] "It happened to me to die and then to be reborn. At the beginning of the '80s I was very ill. I was full of paranoia, I was going through a deep crisis, I had a split self, an altered state of mind and fear of everything, like a child. [...] Except for heroin, I tried everything. From cocaine, for a while, almost forty years ago, I was addicted. I was in London and they'd bring it to the studio as easily as today someone would bring you a sandwich. I was never without it, it kept me going, I was completely unaware. One day I went to the bathroom and while I was unwrapping the pink rock, it fell in the toilet. I watched it disappear in the water and, while it dissolved slowly and I was about to stick my hands in there, I told myself: 'I can't do this, I can't let myself go this far.' I stopped right then. [...] . Then I relapsed, but after one hit and a tequila before a concert, I collapsed and said enough for good."

Ugly story—not the only one, obviously. And yet, in those years Nannini was at the center of Italian music, only 30 years old and seemingly having ousted the old songwriter guard, who, compared to her, sold very little. And the idea of the title, "Puzzle," is precisely that: a desire to reconstruct, like a puzzle, one's own existence. If listened to with today's sensibility, it is a terribly aged album, as I said at the start, but if listened to with the taste of the era, it was impeccable.

"Fotoromanza" had "Venerdì notte" as its B-side, a track that was never released on an album (it remained a single of which all traces are lost), but the album itself included some noteworthy pieces: "Ballami" (I have no idea what the hell it's about, but it has a contagious rhythm, ("E la mia mamma, e la mamma è marocchina; e la mia mamma, e la mia mamma è Radio Tokyo") which, however, was less appreciated by the Italian public at the time compared to "Kolossal," a sort of new-wave rock track in which our singer imagined herself living in a kind of cosmopolitan metropolis amid trolley wires, last beers, and rap dialogues (today the chorus would be instantly censored: "Io non ho, un'anima da negro"). Also noteworthy is the divertissement of "Siamo ricchi," which wouldn't be out of place even today, aside from the obvious references to the '80s ("Ragazzi di Versace spruzzati di van cleef, stasera per cambiare vieni vieni A Cap d'Antibes"; "Crociere a Puerto Rico piscine a Santa Fé, prenota dove vuoi ma col mediterranée").

Other tracks are more nuanced, from the interspatial "Ciao" to the mexican experiment of "Fiesta." But it is certainly perhaps Nannini’s most accomplished album, the most concise (it lasts just 35 minutes), and, undoubtedly, the one that represents her best, before the well-meaning and syrupy turn of the early '90s, when rock became really watered-down (who remembers the terrible "Hey bionda"?). Provided, of course, you’re willing to accept her voice, always shouting, always over-the-top, even though, in this case, very often, irresistibly restrained.

Sorry, but I think Duran Duran are knocking at the door. I’m off to dive into the 1980s (we’ll never make it out alive, never).