I cani
Glamour

THE REVIEW

Glamour has no reason to exist because I Cani are not just any band.

In 2010, when their first songs started circulating on the internet, what stood out was a disruptive metalanguage that combined electro-indie foundations with a subtle but (intentionally) thinly veiled critique of the very audience to which the tracks were directed.

The interest aroused among Italian hipsters (including me, at the time) is almost a given, especially when you add the aura of mystery around the project: no photos, no names, no record label.

When a year later the Surprising Debut Album… was released, it was the perfect recipe: the beats, the self-ironic title (a nod to What did you expect from Vaccines?), but above all the real stories, complete with references to Wallace and Wes Anderson, and scenes like that of Door selection.

The decline was inevitable at this point; while the first, homemade tour featured them wearing bags on their heads (as in the first photos circulating after the debut album), slowly their features emerged and the one-man band Niccolò Contessa - who we even know by name and surname now - became a star of the system.

Inevitably, I Cani can no longer be “what anyone could do in their bedroom,” nor can they be the friend who lives in your scene and goes to your same places, deciding to tell your life story. They become something distinct, almost like any other Italian band, and perhaps rather mediocre.

At this point, the judgments must change. Dear Niccolò, you can no longer be treated as the creator of a disruptive idea; now that you’ve shown your hand, you need to prove you have the famous four degregorian aces.

Glamour is a mediocre album, and I would even go as far as to say it’s unnecessary because it’s neither here nor there; it somewhat tries to delve into a more intimate and personal description of certain situations (Corso Trieste, Come Vera Nabokov), and it somewhat attempts to reprise the old descriptions of the “scene” (Non c’è niente di twee), but ultimately it sounds like classic, catchy electro-pop.

For heaven’s sake, Storia di un impiegato remains enjoyable, as does the closing of Lexotan, perhaps the lo-fi detours of Introduzione… are appreciated. But if anyone saw the artistic-personal growth of Niccolò towards glamour-ism (and maybe the title is ironically again, albeit inevitably less effective), well, this growth is certainly more boring and less stimulating than in the past.

One of two things; either Glamour has no reason to exist for what I Cani ontologically are (or were), or it should have been a different album, perhaps completely different from everything and everyone. Only then could it have been surprising.